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That’s the bottom line to me; trust is paramount. As long as I can trust Cole, I can do this with Cole.
Chapter thirty-three
Cole
The car turns into the airport, but my mind is momentarily back in my apartment, in the moment when I’d opened my door to find Lori standing there. I’d been certain she was going to resign. I’d needed her to stay.
Need.
That word used to be about sex to me, at least where women were concerned. I’d have sworn that to be the case with Lori this morning, but not tonight. Tonight I know I need this woman in ways that reach beyond how much I want her.
This is new.
This is a first.
She is different.
And if I could take Lori back to my apartment and keep her there for a week solid to figure out what that means and where this is leading, I would, but duty calls and I’ll settle for her in a private jet by my side. The car pulls inside the airport hangar and halts. I open the door and exit the car, offering Lori my hand, when any other associate would be exiting on the opposite side of the vehicle, kept at a firm distance.
Lori’s hand presses to mine and I help her out of the car, but beyond a quick glance at her mouth that really needs to be kissed again, and soon, I quickly greet the driver, tip him, and coordinate our bags with an airline staff member. I motion Lori forward, and we fall into step, side-by-side in our walk toward the private jet, where for six hours I will have this woman nearly all to myself, much like I did that night in my hotel room.
We reach the stairs, and my hand settles at Lori’s back, which could be considered an innocent touch to a casual bystander, but of course, there is nothing innocent about the way I touch or think about this woman. I guide her forward and allow her to climb the short set of steps before me, also allowing me to enjoy the view of her heart-shaped beautiful ass in the process that only gets better naked and in my hands. Once we board the private jet, settle into luxurious side-by-side seats in the center of the plane, Lori by the window and me at the aisle, a flight attendant introduces herself. “I’m Katy. I’ll be taking care of you on the flight. Can I get you both a drink to start off the flight?”
I glance at her long enough to note her red hair, and age her at twenty-something, and only then because she’s offered us drinks. “Whiskey neat,” I say, glancing at Lori. “Are you a wine or whiskey girl this flight?”
“Coffee, please,” she says primly when we both know she’s far from prim. “Lots of cream and Splenda.”
The flight attendant hurries away and I turn to Lori. “We’re going to be in the air for six hours,” I remind her. “You can drink if you want to drink.”
“I’m a bad drinker,” she reminds me, lowering her tray table to set her MacBook on top. “Have you forgotten the wine?”
“I don’t remember anything bad about the night we drank wine together except you leaving, and you can’t leave this time.”
“I’m not leaving this time,” she says, which is the exact answer I’m looking for. “I’m going to stay around and own you this time.”
I laugh. “Own me, sweetheart,” I say, and I’m not above having a momentary fantasy of her naked body draped over my lap again, only this time her mouth is on my cock, which motivates me to add, “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Why do I know you just had a dirty thought?” she asks, opening her computer.
“Because I did,” I say, leaning closer. “Would you like me to share it?”
“No,” she says quickly. “You have a client to call, remember?”
“Never trust a flight attendant or much of anyone with our case work. We’re waiting until we have our drinks and they pull the curtain. And that’s not paranoid. I know an attorney who ran his mouth on a flight. He later found out that the flight attendant had been paid by opposing counsel to listen in on his conversations. Needless to say, the case took a brutally bad turn for him and his client. They lost.”
“I would have never been paranoid enough to worry about such a thing,” she admits. “Lesson learned and thankfully not the hard way.”
“It’s a good reason to never use your client’s name in public, and a lesson I’ve learned personally from experience, don’t say anything on the phone you don’t want recorded.”
“You’ve had that happen?”
“Once,” I say. “I almost lost the case over something that wasn’t at all what it was made out to be by the prosecution.”
“But you didn’t lose.”
“That’s the thing about a winning record,” I say. “Anyone who has one, has skill and luck.”
“Whiskey neat and coffee,” Katy says, reappearing with our drinks.
