Page 17 of Dirty Little Secrets
XAIDEN
A fter my third Scotch, I’m ready to throw myself out of this goddamn plane just to cool off from everything I want to do to the woman sleeping across from me.
Nori Summers.
That red spandex dress clings to her like sin spun into fabric.
It hides nothing. Every curve, every way the Spandex molds to her small frame like she pretends not to know what she’s doing to me.
Her hair spills over her shoulders, wild and untamed.
Her breasts push against the neckline, threatening to spill out with every breath.
She looks like a dominatrix who lost her whip, and somehow, she’s more dangerous without it.
My eyes drag lower, down to the delicate strap of her heels wrapped around her ankles. All I can think about is how easily I could use it to bind her, push her thighs apart and take her until she forgets every name but mine. Until she stops trying to fight the pull between us and just begs.
When she first slid into my Bentley, I nearly lost it. That dress was a declaration of war, and I’ve never been one to retreat. I handed her my jacket not out of chivalry but survival. If I hadn’t, I would’ve ripped the damn dress off her right then and there. I wouldn’t stop fucking her.
When the wheels touch down, I reach for the jacket she left on the seat. I offer it to her wordlessly.
She rolls her eyes and takes it, sliding her arms into the sleeves like it pains her. But something tightens in my chest as the coat engulfs her frame. She looks like she’s wearing me. My scent. My name. A declaration that she’s mine and not just my secretary.
“I forgot. The pilot,” she mutters.
My lips twitch. She doesn’t know the half of it. If that asshole even glanced at her twice, I’d rip his eyes out. I don’t enjoy violence, but there are ways to end a man without blood. Suffering is an art form. And when it comes to protecting what I want, I have no boundaries.
The smarter move would be to fuck someone else every time to clear my head. Numb the need clawing at my self-control.
I picture the woman from Obsidian—the one I was matched with. I try to imagine her in that same red dress. But it’s no use. Because the dress is on Nori.
And now I can’t stop thinking what she'd look like underneath it. This meeting is going to be more than I bargained for.