The End of Tomorrow Read Online Free Page B

He cocked an eyebrow.
    “Yoga pants.” I didn't understand the question so I answered cautiously.
    “I miss the days when flying was something you dressed up for.” His hand moved from the bag. It didn't pause or hesitate as it moved directly to my leg, landing on my knee. “These are like some sort of spandex, aren’t they?”
    My eyes dragged down to his hand on my knee. “Yeah, they are.”
    “Yoga pants and a ponytail. Did you sleep in and nearly miss the flight?”
    “No.” An annoyed looked crossed my face. “I like to be comfortable when I fly.”
    “Let me guess, your entire carry-on in filled with more treasures like these?”
    “Stop.” I growled a little. “I’m not here to impress or please you. It’s work.”
    “Tell yourself that if you must.” He flashed a wicked grin. “How have you been?”
    “Great,” I snarled.
    “Excellent,” he muttered as he trailed his fiery touch up the inside of my thigh, burning me through my yoga pants. His hand tickled as it climbed up my leg. My lips parted, my heart pounded, and my insides twitched with the temptation he represented. He wasn't the serpent in the tree; he was the apple.
    When he reached the top of my leg, the highest point he could on the inside of my thigh, he brushed his pinkie finger between my legs. I sucked my breath like a fool, letting him know how desperate I had been for his forbidden touch. He lowered the finger again, delicately, and yet with enough force that I could feel every small touch he placed over my pants and what was beneath.
    He didn't speak or tell me how much he had missed me in the days we were apart. He didn't try to convince me to run away with him. He didn't offer me the world. He was painfully realistic in what he offered—momentary bliss and then forced abandonment. And for whatever disgusting reason, I wanted both. The ecstasy of the fucking was just as sweet as the longing for the next time. I actually enjoyed the torture of waiting for the moment we would be alone and he would be inappropriately forward and convincing.
    His finger ran up and down me, hearing nothing more than the initial gasp from me. I nearly held my breath trying not to let him see how obviously affected I was by even the slightest touch.
    “I missed you,” he finally whispered, but I didn't take the bait, regardless of his fingers rubbing me. He didn't mean it, and if he did, it was not the kind of missing I needed from him.
    We drove a short distance to a sight I still hadn’t grown accustomed to: a private runway. Servario didn't like anyone to know where or when he was traveling. He liked to keep his movements unpredictable. His private jet was something I had grown familiar with, as we had become intertwined in each other’s lives, professionally and privately.
    When the driver stopped the SUV, I glanced at him, finally taking his beauty in and letting my eyes wander his handsome face. “New plane?” I didn't want him to know I was thinking about him.
    “Of course.” He nodded, smirking and popping the dimples. I knew what he was thinking. His eyes were practically giving me the details aloud. He licked his lips, taking his bottom lip in his mouth. “I’m going to have to give you a proper tour of this one.”
    My insides jumped. I nearly abandoned my bag and ran from the runway, screaming and begging for mercy. The first time I had ever been truly fucked by a man, was on his last plane. It was the first time I knew what it meant to be consumed and overwhelmed.
    Clearly, my expression had answered his request. He laughed, nodding. “Relax, Evie. We both know how much you like to fly.” He climbed from the SUV on his own accord as the driver got the door for me. Servario carried my lime-green luggage on board, not looking back to see if I had fled into the forest.
    I sighed, hating how predictable I was, and followed him onto the new jet plane.
    It was smaller than the previous one, seating only a dozen. The back of the