Playing the Dutiful Wife. Carol MarinelliЧитать онлайн книгу.
his legs, his suit trousers still somehow unrumpled, and she turned away and stared out of the window, trying not to think about what was beneath the cloth, trying not to think about what she had felt beneath her fingers, about the taste of his kisses and the passion she had encountered. Maybe life would have been easier had she not sat next to him—because now everything would be a mere comparison, for even with the little she knew still she was aware that there were not many men like Niklas.
Niklas just continued reading his newspaper, or appeared to be. His busy mind was already at work, cancelling his day. He knew that she would have plans once they landed. That she probably had a car waiting to take her to her hotel and her parents. But he’d think of something to get around that obstacle.
He had no intention of waiting.
Or maybe he would wait. Maybe he’d arrange to meet up with her tonight.
He thought of her controlling parents and turned a page in the paper. He relished the thought of screwing her right under their nose.
She, Niklas decided, was amazing.
There was no possibly about it now.
He thought of her face as she came beneath him and shifted just a little in his seat.
‘Ladies and gentlemen …’ They both looked up as the captain’s voice came over the intercom. ‘Due to an incident at LAX all planes are now being re-routed. We will be landing in Las Vegas in just over an hour.’
The captain apologised for the inconvenience and they heard the moans and grumbles from other passengers. They felt the shift as the plane started to climb, and had she been sitting next to anyone else Meg might have been complaining too, or panicking about the prolonged flight, or stressing about the car that was waiting for her, or worried about what was going on …
Instead she was smiling when he turned to her.
‘Viva Las Vegas,’ Niklas said, and picked up her remote, laid her chair flat again and got back to where he had left off.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘IT WAS A false alarm.’
They were still sitting on the plane on the tarmac. The second they had landed in Vegas Niklas had pulled out his phone, turned it on and called someone. He was speaking in Portuguese. He had briefly halted his conversation to inform Meg that whatever had happened in Los Angeles had been a false alarm and then carried on talking into his phone.
‘Aguarde, por favour!’ he said, and then turned again to Meg. ‘I am speaking with my PA, Carla. I can ask her to reschedule your flight also. She will get it done quickly, I think.’
And make sure he’d sit next to her too, Niklas decided.
‘So?’ he asked. ‘When do you want to get there?’
Of course the normal response would be as soon as possible, but there was nothing normal about her response to him. Niklas was looking right at her, and there was undoubtedly an invitation in his eyes, but there was something he needed to know—somehow she had to tell him that what had happened between them wasn’t usual for her.
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