Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Jeans.
I haven't seen Shep in jeans in years. We went to private school. We wore uniforms. He only donned jeans on the weekends, but it was all he donned.
And now—
Shep wears his suit. How can he look just as good in casual attire? It's not fair. It's wrong.
But I guess it's in my favor. So I can't really complain.
He undoes his seatbelt. Stands. Reaches for something in the overhead compartment.
His shirt goes with his arms, revealing inches of taught skin. Abs. The perfect v. The soft hairs that disappear beneath denim.
It's the jeans. They're mixing me up. Turning me into a sex maniac.
Or maybe I'm just a sex maniac now.
We sleep in separate rooms. And we've been busy. He's been busy with work or world domination or whatever he does when he's at the office.
I've kept busy too. With my family, acting classes, evenings watching movies.
It's been days since he's touched me.
Four days.
Four days without his cock and I'm ready to join the mile high club.
I'm so far beyond insane.
His shirt falls as he lowers his arms. He holds out something, presenting it to me.
A box of tea. Bags of milk oolong. Not the one I requested from Key. A new tin.
My fingers brush his as I take the tea. It's such a small thing. It shouldn't mean so much. But it does.
He's trying to meet me halfway. In his way.
"Thank you." My stomach flutters. It's like I'm a teenager again. Like I'm waiting for him to kiss me for the first time.
"Should I ask for hot water?"
I nod then immediately regret it. I don't want the flight attendant here. Even if she knows how to be invisible.
I don't want the reminder of how things used to be. How things will be for me again if this doesn't work out. I'm not naïve. I'm twenty-four and I'm not white. Even if I gain talent fast, I'm not going to have a lot of options.
The world sees me as the help.
Even after I marry Shep, the world will see me as the help. A different kind of help. The pretty trophy wife who fills her role in exchange for security.
Still smiling, still effortless, still thank you, I'll get right on that, sir.
I don't want to remember that. For a few days, I don't want to feel like I'm stuck inside that box. I want to believe my life is like the sky—
Bright, expansive, full of possibilities.
The flight attendant drops off the hot water with a smile. "What a sweet husband, bringing your favorite drink. I wish mine was that sensitive."
"Not yet," he smiles. "But soon."
Her eyes go to the enormous ring on my left hand. "An early honeymoon." She smiles. "Very smart. Hold on to this one. He's a keeper."
"He is." I wrap my fingers around my paper cup.
Shep turns his body toward mine, blocking the rest of the plane. He has the aisle seat. I have the window. He asked which I wanted. He asked where I wanted to be.
He unwraps the box. Opens it. Pulls the bag from its plastic seal.
He's careful. Like this is precious cargo.
Slowly, he slips the bag into my cup of water.
"Thank you." My eyes find his. I can't look away. His eyes are so beautiful. A deep blue that demands all my attention. "She's right. You are a keeper."
"She means rich."
"Maybe she means handsome."
He actually smiles. Full-on smiles. "Is that so?"
"Or she can sense your… raw sexual energy." Did I really just say that?
His smile gets dirtier. "Princess, you know what happens if you dare me."
"Right here?"
He nods right here. "Under a blanket."
"They'll kick us out."
"How? We're halfway over the Atlantic."
More like a quarter of the way, but I don't correct him. It feels good, letting him tease me.
"Are you happy?"
"Happy?" That's a big question.
"With the wedding?"
"Your team is handling it well." My laugh is nervous. "Do you ever get used to that? Having a team?"
"Eventually."
"I can't imagine. It's strange, waking up to tea and breakfast. Key ready to fill my every need. That used to be me."
"I know."
"When you're the help… people look at you, but they don't see you."
"I know what you mean."
Does he though? Shep has always been well-off. He's always commanded attention.
"I know you think otherwise, but I've always seen you, Jasmine. The first day at school, in Honors American Literature. You were chewing the end of your pencil as you read Huckleberry Finn."
"You remember that?"
"I remember everything. The way you rolled your eyes at me. Then blushed, because you couldn't help but invite my stare. You thought I saw you as a scholarship kid. But that wasn't it."
"You were thinking about what you wanted to do to me?"
He nods exactly. "Even now… when I see you in that pencil skirt. I'm sure there are people who look through you. But all I can think is that I need that skirt at your waist."