Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 118309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Now is not the time to be professional. I’m naked from the waist down in a washroom, for crying out loud, but I can’t help but bite back when riled about disregarding an oath I pledged many years ago. “I thought you were a patient in need of assistance.” My dainty laugh echoes around the washroom. “I thought you were your mother.”
Bringing up his mother during sexual escapades probably wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had, but I could have never fathomed Maksim’s response. Instead of responding with the self-assuredness he oozes by the bucketload, his cock softens as the angry glint his eyes had earlier returns more potent than ever.
“That’s right. You were there to help my mother.” He licks his lips like they’re as dry as my throat, his nostrils flaring when he tastes me on his mouth. Don’t ask if it is a good or bad flare, as I couldn’t tell you. “The woman who birthed me. The woman who raised me. The same woman whose admission was never documented on any official paperwork. My mother was as fit as an ox before she arrived at your hospital.” He steps back before tugging up his pants with the same aggression he used to remove mine. “I can’t believe I forgot that’s what started all of this.” When he gestures his hand between us, he doesn’t look at me like he did only moments ago. I would say he hates me, but since he’s looking past me, not at me, I’m going to assume some of the fury is directed at himself. “I’ve often been told I put my cock before anyone.” His eyes are back on me, hot and angry. “Never believed it until now.”
Disappointment flashes through his eyes for the quickest second before he exits the washroom without glancing back my way.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Zoya asks as we exit the plane on the heels of the first-class passengers who glowered and snickered at me when I made my way to my seat after the pilot announced we were about to begin the descent. I would have never left the washroom if given the choice, but my options were limited. “You’ve been quiet.” She leans into my side and lowers her voice. “I didn’t snore, did I?”
“No.” I gulp before correcting, “I don’t think.”
I haven’t told her about what happened in the washroom. I’m clueless about how it went from exhilarating to disastrous in seconds, so how can I explain it to anyone else?
She probably wouldn’t believe me anyway. My cheeks are still flushed, my panties are still saturated, and lust is still beaming from my eyes. Not even the flight attendant believed my mumbled excuse that I’d been in the washroom for so long because I was cleaning Maksim’s shirt as initially planned.
It was wet from a soda water sponge bath and folded over my arm, but she still tsked me.
Her scorn took me back to my pre-med days and how the head professor was harder on me than everyone else. I thought it was because he wanted me to succeed, but I learned otherwise when my father was convicted to life behind bars.
His constant ridicule almost had me leaving medical school. I only stayed because Zoya got him off my back.
Married men will do anything for their wives not to find out that they’re adulterers.
I’m drawn from sordid memories when the woman who will go to hell and back for me suddenly stops walking. After cocking her brow, Zoya fans her hands across her tiny waist. “Why do you smell like a hot hunk of a man with too much testosterone?” A second after her eyes lower to my neck, her mouth gapes like a fish out of water. “And what caused that red mark on your neck? Neither it nor that expensive aftershave I’m smelling were present when we boarded.”
“Everyone on our flight now smells like a hunky man. It is the airline’s preferred scent.” I’m only good for one lie. It is all downhill after that. “And what mark? My neck feels fine. It isn’t the slightest bit achy.”
When I stupidly shoot my hand up to rub the stubble burn Maksim’s beard left, Zoya’s mouth no longer hangs open. It hits the floor. “You’re the woman they were talking about in first class! You stamped your mile-high card in the bathroom during the flight. Who was it?” She twirls to face the people exiting the plane with us, making a spectacle of herself. “Which one of you horny fuckers claimed my BFF’s airplane virginity?”
“I’m so sorry,” I apologize to the men close enough to hear her before I clamp my hand over her mouth like she did mine earlier and drag her toward the baggage carousel. Once we’re at a safe distance from prying eyes, I say, “I didn’t lose my airplane virginity.” When her nostrils flare like she is dying to call me out as a liar, I add quickly, “He would have had to fuck me for that to happen, and he didn’t. He left me hanging.” My next words are barely whispers. “I didn’t even get to orgasm.”