Stanton Box Set

“How are we going to do this, Josh?”

He blows out a breath and rubs his face. “I suppose we are going to want each other from afar and be mollified that the other isn’t with anyone else.”

“That sounds totally crap. So I will know at night when I’m alone in my bed that you are alone in your bed and I can do nothing about it?”

He smiles and nods. “I suppose.”

“Josh that’s torture. It’s like…it’s like…” I can’t think of the appropriate analogy. “Having a Lamborghini in the garage and not being allowed to drive it.”

He throws his head back and laughs. “Did you just call me a Lamborghini?” He raises an eyebrow in question.

“I guess I did.”

“That’s a hot car,” he whispers.

“Well, you’re a very hot man,” I whisper back. He grabs my hand again, his blazing stare burning into me.

“When did you become such a beautiful slut?”

I smile, my chest filling with an unnamed emotion. “When you came back for me and turned on the switch,” I breathe. Who knew I would love the endearment ‘beautiful slut’. Now I know for certain I’m tapped.

“So I have you for tonight?” he rubs his finger over his lip, leaning back in his chair, his dominant sitting position makes me feel like a naughty schoolgirl.

“Yes,” I breathe as my eyes drop to his finger lingering over his lips, my heart rate rising. His searing stare bores into mine and our eyes lock. I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to. I see a familiar tick of the jaw and a much anticipated crack of the neck.

“Do you have any idea how hard you are going to cop it when we get home?” He smirks as he raises his eyebrows and crosses his legs to readjust his length that I can now see straining in his pants. I swallow a golf ball in my throat and a familiar heat starts to run through me, a fire that has only one extinguisher, a certain gorgeous man in a navy blazer. I smile and lick my lips, and his eyes drop to my mouth.

“I hope it’s hard enough to last me a lifetime seeing as no one else can get the job done… Mr Stanton.” He grabs my legs hard under the table, his thumbs nearly at bruising pressure, and leans in to whisper in my ear.

“Be careful what you wish for precious, you are playing with fire. No one will save you when you scream for mercy.”

Chapter 11

Who in god’s name would want to be saved from the fire I have just had for the last four hours? I was right. The man is a frigging Lamborghini, either that or a sex god from another planet. I smile into his chest as we sit on the bottom of my shower, both too exhausted to get up.

“Up presh,” he whispers. “You’re going to sleep.”

“Mmmm” I groan. I don’t want to get up. He kisses me on the forehead.

“Come on.” He helps me off his lap. I slowly stand and he helps me out of the shower and wraps me in a towel, cuddling me in an embrace like a child. His lips gently kiss my temple as he whispers. “I’m sorry, beautiful. I’ve been hard on you tonight, you make me lose my head and I can’t stop.” He continues to dry me.

“Mmm,” I answer again, too exhausted to open my eyes. My head is resting on his shoulder. “Be as hard on me as you want. My body is yours for nine weeks remember,” I mumble.

I can feel him smile into my neck. “Careful, keep talking like that and you will be on your knees again.” He kisses my neck with an open mouth. I don’t even have the strength to open my eyes to see if he’s serious. He picks me up like a bride and carries me to bed. He slowly removes the towel and lies me down as he snuggles in behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, then he gently starts to trail kisses across my shoulder and up my neck. As I slip into an orgasm–induced coma I hear him whisper the words, “I fucking adore you Natasha.”

When I woke up he was gone.

Cabin crew and crosscheck. I look out the window to my left as my private plane hurtles to take off down the runway. I glance at my watch—6.00 am. She will be waking up soon. I run the side of my pointer back and forward over my lip and close my eyes as disgust twists my gut. What a dog act, sneaking out in the middle of the night. She’s going to fucking hate me, and who could blame her? I run both my hands through my hair.

“Can I get you some breakfast Mr Stanton?” The blonde stewardess is over–attentive. She has been fawning all over me since I got on the damn plane.

“No I will just have a Cointreau and ice. Actually, make it a double.” I glare at her, silently telling her to back the hell off. She looks shocked and immediately nods and leaves me alone. I look over to see Adrian narrow his eyes at me.

“What?” I snap. He shakes his head and looks back out his window opposite me, his annoyance apparent. I am not in the mood for his shit today. If I want to drink Cointreau for breakfast then I fucking will. I don?

??t need another mother telling me what to do. The one I’ve got is enough of a nightmare. I glance at my watch again—6.25 am. I strum my fingers on my table. I’m so worked up I don’t think I can sit on this plane all the way to Melbourne.

I stand and walk up the end of the aisle and turn and put my hands on the back of the two opposite aisle seats. With only fifteen people on board for the meeting we have with the Australian Medical Board this morning, the plane is relatively empty. I stand for a while as my mind wanders back to the night before, to Natasha. I can’t even bear to be near my colleagues this morning. They are just too… in my space. I check my watch again—6.40 am. She will be waking up soon. I check my suit pant pockets for my phone and then my jacket pockets, shit. I stomp back down the aisle and look on my seat for my phone.