The Stopover (The Miles High Club #1)

by T.L. Swan

“Impressing a woman you’re attracted to is crucial,” he continues. I stare at him as I try to get my brain to keep up with the conversation. Why does that statement sound flirty? “And do tell . . . how would you impress a woman you’re attracted to?” I ask, fascinated. His eyes hold mine. “Offer her a window seat.”

“You’re trying to impress me?” I ask. He gives me a slow, sexy smile. “How am I doing?” I smirk, unsure what to say. “I’m simply saying that you’re attractive, nothing more and nothing less. Don’t read into it. It was a statement, not a question.”

You are the most attractive woman I’ve seen in a long time, and when you smiled, it brought me to my feet.”

“And then you spoke . . . and ruined everything.” What? I burst out laughing. “I ruined everything? How did I ruin everything?” “You’re bossy, with a sarcastic snark.” “What’s the problem with that?” I stammer in outrage. “Well, I’m bossy and sarcastic.” He shrugs. “And?” “And I don’t want to date myself. I like sweet, demure girls, the ones who do what I say.”

“I don’t understand how someone as hot as you doesn’t get fucked three times a day.”

“What?” I smile. “I wish we were on a private jet.” “Why is that?” His eyes drop to my lips once more. “Because I’d break that drought of yours and initiate you into the Miles-High Club.”

“You know, I’ve never fucked a stranger before.” He inhales sharply as his eyes hold mine. “Do you want to fuck a stranger?” he murmurs as arousal thrums between us.

“Don’t be shy,” he whispers. “Tell me, if we were alone right now . . .” He pauses as he chooses his words. “What would you give me, Emily?” My eyes search his, and maybe it’s the alcohol or the lack of sex or the fact that I know I’ll never see him again . . . or perhaps I’m just a total ho. “Me,” I breathe. “I would give you me.”

I want this man. I want all of this man . . . every last drop.

worth the risk . . . because I know I will never get the opportunity to be with a man like him again. I’ve died and gone to layover bad-girl heaven.

What the hell am I doing here? I’m a good girl, and good girls don’t do bad things with men like this. We don’t know the same people, we don’t live in the same city, and I may never see him again, and there’s an unexpected freedom in that. I can be different. Whoever he wants me to be.

“From the moment I saw you on the plane today, I wanted you riding my cock.” I giggle down at him. “Do you always get what you want?”

“Always.” He grabs my hips and slams me down, and our mouths fall open in pleasure.

“I’m going to rip this condom off and blow in your dirty mouth in a minute.” “Please.”

I’m not joking—I don’t want him to leave me. This man is everything I’m not looking for, but he’s somehow ticking every box.

It’s him, the layover guy who never asked for my number. I stare at him as my brain completely misfires. I can’t believe this. He’s the fucking CEO?

I’ve thought of her often—she was impossible to forget. Nobody has ever ridden my cock the way she did, not before, not since. Not ever. The hickey on my neck wasn’t the only thing she branded me with that night.

“No,” he barks. “I want to know why you won’t go out with me.” My face falls. “Are you serious?” I whisper. “Deadly.”

The worst part about it is that I know Jameson Miles is the kind of drug that I don’t need an addiction to. The memory of our night together is bad enough.

“Ask him if he feels like he might die if he doesn’t get to touch you again.” I frown. “Why would I ask him that?” I whisper. “Because there’s another man who does.” The phone clicks as he hangs up.

For twelve months I’ve dreamed about Jim, the funny, carefree man I spent the night with. And now that I’ve met another version of him, I’m not sure that I like him. I mean, he’s hot, hotter than hot. Blazing fucking inferno. Who is Jameson Miles?

I can’t believe I waited around to get a glimpse of him leaving . . . what a loser.

“The man I met was funny and carefree.” He smiles down at me as he brushes the hair back from my forehead. “Our meeting was a luxury that I’ve never been afforded.” “How so?” “I had the gift of anonymity.” Our lips touch, and I rub my fingers through his stubble. “Why are you so different here?” I whisper. He pulls out of my grip and walks over to his desk. “I am who I have to be, Emily. Funny and carefree can’t successfully run an empire.”

“Okay, then I guess I’ll have to decline dinner.” “Why is that?” “Because I want to spend a night with Jim.” His eyes hold mine. “Jameson Miles the CEO doesn’t interest me. I couldn’t care less about your money or your power.” He stares at me for an extended time as if processing my words. I walk over and kiss him softly. “Tell Jim to pick me up at seven,” I whisper as I run my tongue through his lips. “I’m aching for him.” Tenderness crosses his face. “I’ll see what I can do.” I walk back down

“I was thinking that you were probably the hottest sex I’d ever had.” His eyes drop to my lips. The air crackles between us. “And even now, every time I’m in a room with you, it’s as if my body takes on a need of its own.” Time stops as we stare at each other. He sips his wine in slow motion. “When I look at you . . . I have one thing on my mind,” he murmurs. “I can’t help it. It’s almost primal.”

naked. I want to be that girl he turned me into in Boston again. I’ve missed her.

This man makes me an animal.

“But it was the way you kissed me that I remember the most.”

My eyes search his. “How did I kiss you?”

“Like you’d been waiting your whole lif...

“I thought we had something.”

“So did I.” His cold eyes hold mine. “But you fucked that up this morning when you left like a two-year-old.” He turns back to his computer.

I drop my eyes to the desk. I’m not looking at those beautiful blue eyes. He’s like the snake from The Jungle Book—one look in those hypnotic suckers, and your panties drop to the floor.

“I’m nobody’s whore, Jameson, least of all yours. No job is worth my self-respect.” The air crackles between us. “So excuse me if the privilege of sucking your golden CEO dick doesn’t excite me any longer.”

I get into the elevator as my body screams for me to go back. Every molecule in my body wants that man. But he’s just an asshole . . . and I’m just another groupie. It’s not going to happen.

It’s a rarity that a woman catches my attention these days, with the exception of Little Miss Snarky. I can’t get enough of

her . . . even if she is completely unmanageable.

“Have you ever been so physically attracted to someone that you lose the ability to think around them?”

“Don’t,” I whisper up at him. “Don’t what?” “Hypnotize me with that magical dick.” He gives me a cheeky wink. “You’ve got that the wrong way around, baby. I’m the only one who’s hypnotized around here,” he whispers as he leans down toward me. His tongue slowly slides through my lips. He kisses me again, with just the right amount of suction, and my knees begin to buckle beneath me.

I know this is crazy, but I want him . . . all of him, and not just his body.

Jameson Miles knows how to touch a woman.

Everything is magnified, to the point where even his blazing stare could make me orgasm.

Jameson Miles is my new drug. And I am his crack whore.

I hate that it bothers me. I hate that I can feel myself getting attached to him when he clearly isn’t feeling the same.

Well, that’s the end of that. He’s done. I wish I were. I’ll get there—I always do.

This is a no-win situation. He wants a fuck buddy to join his harem, and I want him all to myself. I write back.

And I still stand by what I said on Sunday. I am too good for him with the way he is at the moment, and I won’t share, and money means nothing to me at all. He needs to step up or step away.

Tonight is important; we either have to come to some sort of understanding or cut our losses. We can’t keep fighting over nothing like we do.

“When I said I wasn’t looking for a relationship, I didn’t mean . . .” He shrugs as if lost for words. “You didn’t mean what?” “I didn’t mean that I don’t want to see you. I meant that I am a workaholic, and I know that very few women can deal with how much I work.”

“Jameson, I don’t care about how hard you work. I just don’t want to be one of many.”