Mr. Beautiful (Up in the Air #4)(4)

"Maybe you should.  You look like you could use one."

I shot him a sardonic look.  It was disconcerting how well he could read me.  "No, but I need you to find one for me, actually.  Her name is Bianca."

"No last name?" he asked without missing a beat.  It wasn't as though I asked him to find women for me often.  He was just an unflappable kind of guy.

"No.  She's a flight attendant, and her name is Bianca.  That's all I know."

"Walker's airline?"

"Yes."

"Physical description."

"Tall, blonde . . . beautiful.  She looks like a model.  I need her schedule ASAP.  I could also use a number, address, anything you can get your hands on, really."

He sighed.  "I'll see what I can do.  It'll be a pain in my ass."

"I'll be eternally grateful."

"I know."

I felt a little lost when I walked into my apartment.  I'd taken the afternoon off.  But to do what?  If I weren't acting like a besotted fool over a stranger, I'd have called one of the five women I knew that were in the city who could cater to my specific needs.  I had no desire to, though, and that was the problem.

I felt dazed as I walked directly to the master bathroom, stripped down, and got into the shower.  I didn't use cold water, but steaming hot.  I closed my eyes and leaned against the tiled wall, picturing those devouring blue eyes of hers again.  They'd been steady, but so submissive, as though she knew just what I needed from her.

Needed, I thought.  Yes, that was the word.

I soaped my hand, stroked my throbbing c**k and remembered how she'd blushed for me, and her little smile, and of course, those mesmerizing eyes.

Fuck, I thought in shock, coming in a few short strokes.  And worse, that release wasn't enough.  I was jerking myself off again within a few short moments.  I felt like a teenager again, jacking myself off repeatedly in the shower.

I didn't even consider finding a woman to ease myself with.  That was the worst of it.  I knew I would find more satisfaction just thinking about her, than actually having another woman.

Bianca was trouble for me, I knew it, and still, I didn't give a f**k.  I was going to have her.

I brought myself to another orgasm, gripping my length tightly, then began stroking again before I'd even finished, in danger of rubbing my own c**k raw, thinking about a woman that I'd never even seen naked.

I thought about her body that time, about that neat little dress suit covering delectably round br**sts, slender hips, and the best pair of legs I'd ever seen.  I stroked my c**k harder.

I remembered the delicate wrist I'd studied as she'd served me.  I pictured tying those wrists to my bed as I jerked hard on my aching c**k and came again with a rough groan.

It was early, but that didn't stop me from drying off and going straight to bed.  I dreamed that night about silky blonde hair and pale blue eyes that I could lose myself in.

I'd only met her once.  Why did it feel like I'd wanted her forever?

CHAPTER THREE

MY PURGATORY

PRESENT

"What will I do if she doesn't make it through this?  How is it possible that I could find something, someone like this, and then lose it?  What's the point of it all?"

And what about Stephan?  He was in worse shape.  What would I do if he didn't make it?  How would I tell her a thing like that?

She was in surgery, and they weren't giving me nearly enough information to cope.  I knew she was getting the best care possible, but it didn't help alleviate the purgatory I was experiencing as I waited to see if it would be enough.

Tristan's eyes were sympathetic in a way that let me know he'd been through hell and back, too.  He existed every day in a purgatory of his own, I knew.

The poor bastard.

"First of all, she's going to pull through this," he said quietly.  "I know it.  The fact that she's still breathing, after everything that happened tells us that.  But also, James.  About the how, and the why.  A love like that makes you better, even if you lose it all, even if it was for one precious moment in your life, you can't be sorry that you had it.  Trust me on this."

CHAPTER FOUR

MY RITUAL

PAST

I checked my watch again, then took it off impatiently, tossing it into a drawer.

She was supposed to be here in fifteen minutes, but I'd been ready for her for hours.  I was too preoccupied to work, instead putting my efforts into grueling workouts and dinner prep.

I began to pace.

I was antsy, distracted, and restless in a way that was foreign to me.

I'd dismissed my staff halfway through the day, needing total solitude in this strange mood of mine.

For the first time that I could remember, I wasn't sure how the evening was supposed to play out or the best way to handle things.  This sort of meeting usually only went one way for me.  It didn't start with dinner, and it didn't end with a sleepover.

I didn't know what she wanted from me, or what she expected, and that was the whole problem, because I wanted many things from her.  Things she didn't seem remotely interested in.