Page 64 of Insatiable

I tilt my head. “Are you going to answer any of mine?”

He takes a gulp then sets his glass back down on the small table between us, his eyes going back to his laptop screen. “No.”

“You’re not some crazy paid hitman, are you?” I ask with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Oh wait, you’re paid for sex.” Then I pause, thinking. “Drug dealer?”

He glares at me. “Your voice is giving me a headache.”

I roll my eyes and look out the window as the jet pulls out of the hangar. An uneasy feeling reaches deep inside my chest when I think of all the ways Chris will make me pay for hanging up on him, or for going on this trip in the first place.

I allowed Kade to hang up on my psychotic stepbrother so I could dry-hump him. Which resulted in me sitting on his face. Then being bent over and so close to being fucked.

And now he’s sitting across from me in a fancy jet, has an assistant, is strangely rich, and all I can think of is finishing off what we started back in the hotel. I hate him. Loathe. I think I could slap him and not feel bad about it for ten full minutes.

I can still be attracted to him though. Especially when he runs the tip of his thumb across his mouth as he looks at something unsettling on his laptop. He shifts, his legs wide open, and accidentally bumps his knee into mine.

He glances up at me, catching me staring, and I avert my gaze to my hands, which are fidgeting in my lap.

This is going to be a long flight.

16

STACEY

The novelty of being on a private jet is gone six hours in. I’ve slept. I’ve drank. I’ve slept the drunkenness off. I’ve begged this idiot to play a game of I Spy with me, which he obviously declined.

What is he typing? His brows are knitted together as he concentrates on the screen, and I watch him. He yawns, and it annoys me that he even manages to make that look hot.

I lean my elbows on the table between us. “Do you not sleep? You look terrible.”

His eyes are sunken in, bags under them, and his hair has seen better days. This guy hasn’t slept in over twenty-four hours, and the finger he taps on the table when he’s not typing and the way he bounces one knee has me studying him.

He’s… different.

I’d almost say he was coming down from a high, from what I remember of Chris taking drugs and waking up on my bedroom floor. Or the way I’d feel the morning after he’d forced pills down my throat.

Kade taking uppers seems out of character though, considering he’s a fitness freak.

I nibble my lip. I know he smokes pot, but Kade wouldn’t take anything harder. I remember how much he hated drugs when we were younger. He took medication to help regulate everything going on in his mind; I know this because I always sat on the sink and handed him a glass of water to swallow them with.

He hated tablets; hated pills that controlled him.

Has that changed?

“There’s a sofa at the back of the plane – why don’t you go lie down?”

His blue eyes stay on the screen. “I’m not tired.”

I sigh. “Rich, rude and apparently an immortal who doesn’t need sleep. You truly are a catch.”

A faint smile touches his mouth, but he wipes his hand down his face to cover it up and continues typing. “Go back to sleep. Your company was better then. I’m too busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Working,” he replies bluntly, ending our conversation.

I yawn and smile at Kade’s assistant. “What else is there to do in here?”

He points to the TV, but I shake my head.

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