скачать книгу бесплатно
First Class Sin
Cara Lockwood
A sexy CEO……takes her to new heights!Juliana craves intimacy in her lonely job as an airline consultant, and mysterious businessman Law seems the perfect remedy. After a lust-filled encounter at thirty thousand feet, their fling well and truly takes off. She soon discovers Law owns the airline she’s been hired to assess—and he’s fallen for her. Juliana wants passion, not commitment…but could this dashing stranger be more than a flight of fantasy?
A sexy CEO...
...takes her to new heights!
Juliana craves intimacy in her lonely job as an airline consultant, and mysterious businessman Law seems the perfect remedy. After a lust-filled encounter at thirty thousand feet, their fling well and truly takes off. She soon discovers Law owns the airline she’s been hired to assess—and he’s fallen for her. Juliana wants passion, not commitment...but could this dashing stranger be more than a flight of fantasy?
CARA LOCKWOOD is the USA TODAY bestselling author of more than eighteen books, including I Do (But I Don’t), which was made into a Lifetime Original movie. She’s written the Bard Academy series for young adults and has had her work translated into several languages around the world. Born and raised in Dallas, Cara now lives near Chicago with her husband and their five children. Find out more about her at caralockwood.com (http://www.caralockwood.com), “friend” her on Facebook, Facebook.com/authorcaralockwood (https://Facebook.com/authorcaralockwood), or follow her on Twitter, @caralockwood (https://twitter.com/caralockwood?lang=en).
If you liked First Class Sin, why not try
King’s Rule by Jackie Ashenden
Forbidden to Want by JC Harroway
Playing with Fire by Rebecca Hunter
Also by Cara Lockwood
No Strings
Look at Me
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
First Class Sin
Cara Lockwood
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08680-6
FIRST CLASS SIN
© 2019 Cara Lockwood
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For Peej—my amazing husband.
Thank you for giving me wings.
Contents
Cover (#u087b7b51-cc30-58d9-b56d-629e770464e6)
Back Cover Text (#uc5daa79a-7048-5154-9db1-d996b216f053)
About the Author (#u9de9c3e0-de1c-5c63-9940-f0363b7f2b8b)
Booklist (#u1c76c4b0-7d31-5ed8-a097-f5236d314401)
Title Page (#u827ca2df-003c-50d0-aeb1-9d63b6e9c8f7)
Copyright (#ua1ab57ce-155b-5004-91ef-6fd7ba1784d4)
Dedication (#ue0aa6b0c-38cc-5ac4-a7da-60327a04790a)
PROLOGUE (#u746ff709-ac5e-5ab6-8fd1-1ee917184fac)
CHAPTER ONE (#u68e0c815-91d9-516a-b7e1-d2c07c33c2cf)
CHAPTER TWO (#u8f9d261f-dc45-5c03-8a50-34abaae2374d)
CHAPTER THREE (#uc4d7c1f5-4507-590e-ab83-e0f9080d2ef3)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
PROLOGUE (#u9c4e7b19-42ba-5538-b6fd-7f3eb1b8f1fa)
THE SEAT BELT LIGHT blinked on in the bathroom of the A380 Airbus, but Juliana failed to notice. The man’s lips had claimed hers, and his hands ran the length of her oversize cashmere sweater tunic, finding her hips beneath the fabric. His big hands felt hot and heavy, and she leaned into them as she caught a glimpse of herself in the small mirror above the tiny steel sink. Her dark hair mussed, cheeks flushed, pupils dilated so her normally light brown eyes looked nearly black. The man, so tall, so fit, the muscles in his back and shoulders moved beneath his thin T-shirt as he claimed her neck with his mouth.
Was she going to do this? Was she really going to have sex in the bathroom? A planeful of passengers just on the other side of the thin, plastic door could no doubt hear everything, if they weren’t tucked in to their devices, noise-canceling earphones plugged in, the flicker of their screens in the darkened cabin the only light on the red-eye flight. The man—a complete stranger to her just two hours ago—laid a trail of kisses up the side of her neck. She moaned, unable to help herself as his tongue flicked out, tickling the lobe of her ear, his teeth nibbling there with the slightest hint of pressure. It had been too long since she’d gotten out of her brain, indulged in her body’s demands. She’d forgotten how good this could feel. Her body screamed for this release, burned for it. Juliana had never in her life done this—sex with a stranger? Sex on a plane?
Yet she wanted to feel him deep inside her; she wanted him to fill her in the way only a man could. This was what she wanted: this man, on her terms. She started this, and she was going to finish it.
She realized with a jolt that she didn’t even know this man’s last name, didn’t even know where he lived and yet here she was, kissing the life out of him, feeling him pressed against her in the cramped space, his need for her growing firm against her belly. Yes, this is what she wanted. Right here. Right now. Quick, dirty, practically anonymous. Two animals doing what animals do best. For once in her hectic life, she could switch off her anxious brain, focus on this, on this one thing, the man’s mouth on hers, his body strong, muscled, in front of her.
He broke free of their kiss, panting, and then whirled her around, and hoisted her up on the tiny edge of the bathroom sink as if she weighed nothing, and suddenly she realized how strong he really was, how compact and powerful his muscles must be. She met his blue-eyed gaze and felt desire pool between her legs. She’d wanted him the moment she’d seen him, and now she’d have him. I’m an animal in heat, running on pure instincts, pure need. He found the waistband of her stretchy leggings, pulling them downward to reveal her secret: she wore no underwear.
His hands slinked up her leg, finding her bareness. He grinned, eyebrow risen in a question. Normally, she went commando for comfort, but now she realized he put a different meaning on this altogether. “Well, well,” he murmured, surprised, as his fingers roved deeper, gently caressing the bundle of nerves sitting taut there, sending her heart racing as they slipped across her slick center. “Did you come here ready for this?”
She wanted to tell him she’d never done this before, not ever, but her throat closed up, and she couldn’t manage words. Not here, not with his lips so close to hers. The hard truth was she’d never done anything close to this: sex with a stranger, on an airplane or anywhere public, for that matter. Mile High Club?It was never a membership she’d ever sought, or ever thought she’d gain.
His finger slipped inside her then, and she gasped as he penetrated her, his touch driving her wild as she realized he now understood just how much she wanted him, how wet he’d made her.
“Yes, you came ready,” he murmured and she realized the truth in his statement. She felt like she’d always been ready for this. For him.
Her heart hammered in her chest. She’d never had a man like this—hot, heavy, urgent. The fear of being caught rippling through every moment, the naughtiness of breaking the rules turning every caress into white-hot desire. She’d always been the girl who insisted on dinner first, on a whole host of hurdles a man would have to clear before she’d ever let him even see her underwear. But now, here, on this plane, with this stranger, she was going to give him everything, right here. Right now. No strings. No obligations.
Maybe this was what she needed all along. Dirty, quick sex with a stranger, where she didn’t have to be the prim and proper consultant, the suit-wearing professional she played all day. Here, she could be who she wanted to be: a woman who would take a man where and when she pleased; a woman who was sitting on a bathroom basin counter, legs spread and half-naked, a hard pulse thrumming inside her.
Any minute the flight attendant could knock on the door. Or another passenger. They were doing this here,in a place they could easily get caught. At any time. Yet she felt strangely...free. She felt alive, for the first time in a long time. She was doing something wrong, but it felt so right. This was her choice. And it was delicious.
He worked his fingers inside her and she laid her head back, cracking against the mirror near the sink as she let out a low groan of appreciation, her hips moving in time with his hand. It felt so good. No, scratch that, amazing. He might just make her come right here. She groaned, louder, her need taking over.
Did anyone hear that? she wondered. Was someone, right now, listening against the door? Did she even care?
He inched back in the tight space and she lunged for his fly, eager to free him, eager to do this. He claimed her mouth again and she moaned once more, the rush of need, a tsunami of desire, flooding all her senses. She freed him then, heavy, hard and smooth in her hands. Yes, this was what she wanted. Him, all of him, inside her. To hell with consequences. Because chances were, they’d never meet again. Hell, she didn’t even know his full name and she held him, his most intimate part, in her hands. Impressive, too. Wide. On the north side of average, and oh, so very, very ready for her.
He groaned as she wrapped her hands around him, as she felt the proof of his need. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. She felt giddy suddenly, powerful, as she clutched him in her hands.
This was going to happen. She could barely believe it. She’d only just met this man, a random stranger who’d sat next to her on the emergency exit row, and now she was about to take him inside her, a place only a handful of men had ever gone in her whole life. She glanced at his blue eyes, that sexy, squared-off chin. Yes, she wanted him. So badly. No regrets. Not for this.
He nudged against her, his bulging tip pressing against her most tender of places, the promise of pleasure, of pure animal lust, of precious, sweet release. She’d held the reins so tightly in her life, so taut, and now she’d let go. She’d let everything go, as she clutched his shoulders, her core aching for this, to be filled, to be stretched, to be taken to new heights as this tin bird glided through the clouds, the ground thousands of feet below them.
“You ready?” he asked her, rubbing the tip of him against her once more, sending a wave of urgent want thrumming down her legs to her knees.
“Yes,” she whispered, hoarse, her nails digging into his shoulders. She’d never been more ready in her life.
CHAPTER ONE (#u9c4e7b19-42ba-5538-b6fd-7f3eb1b8f1fa)
Two hours earlier
JULIANA HATED BEING LATE. She jogged through the terminal at JFK Airport, past the dads pushing strollers and the sunburned college kids headed home from spring break and prayed she made it to her gate before they shut the doors. She had to make this flight, the last flight home to Chicago. She promised her sister she’d be there for her birthday dinner tomorrow, but with her never-ending consulting work for the Blue Sky project, she’d been AWOL for weeks, crisscrossing the country to evaluate the nation’s biggest airline. She would’ve been on time, except traffic had been monstrous, even more so than usual around JFK. And then her smart watch dinged with an incoming text. She glanced down at it.
Garrison had texted.
We need to talk.
Juliana groaned. She didn’t have time for her boss right now. He could wait. She rushed through the airport, her trim, rolling carry-on spinning behind her, her dark hair, normally up in a tight bun, begging to spring loose as she bounded through the terminal. If she didn’t make that flight...she’d have to wait a whole day for the next one, and she badly needed that day to write her report—which she couldn’t start until she’d evaluated the airline’s service on this route.
She headed to the gate and saw a worker in a Blue Sky uniform—blue-and-white scarf, and dark navy pantsuit—standing at the gate. Thank goodness!
She arrived, panting, and held out her ticket. “Just...made it,” she said, gasping.
“I’m sorry, miss,” the airline worker said, “but we’re loading standby passengers now, and we’ve already given away your seat.”
“But...the gate is open, and I’ve got my ticket.” Juliana held it up, as if the business class ticket ought to speak for her. “Has the standby passenger boarded yet?”
The airline worker—whose tag read “Bette”—reluctantly looked down at the computer screen in the counter. She typed on the keyboard, clearly out of sorts at having to do a little extra work. “No, not yet.” Her voice sounded clipped, annoyed. This is why you’re in a social media marketing mess,Juliana thought. Where your clients keep saying your philosophy is the customer is always wrong.
“Then please let me on.” She was the paying customer, the original customer, and standby was just that—a person who didn’t have a ticket for this flight but hoped to get one. Mentally, she noted the airline employee’s sullen attitude, her lack of willingness to help. Kicking off paying customers from flights had gotten Blue Sky in trouble in a series of damning viral videos of late, and here was yet another unhelpful employee seeming oblivious to the poor optics of this situation. This would most certainly go into her mergers and acquisitions report to AM Airlines.
“But the standby passenger is airline staff and I’m afraid...”
“Can I help?” The deep baritone of another passenger behind Juliana caused her to jump. She whirled to see a tall, forty-something man with the most amazing clear blue eyes she’d ever seen. He wore dark jeans and a fitted Polo across his broad chest, looking more like the lead in some movie that hadn’t been made yet, than a random passenger on a flight. Juliana usually didn’t register attractiveness, really, when mingling with strangers, but something about the man made him impossible to ignore. She could almost feel his magnetism, a force demanding her full attention, like a Viking marauding on a foreign shore.
“Sir...” The employee’s surly attitude seemed to get worse.
“I’m a standby passenger,” he offered, his deep voice seeming to reverberate in her bones. It felt like pure power. “I’ll give up my seat if that helps.” He handed her his ticket, so she could read his name.
Juliana glanced at the man, surprised. She’d always thought chivalry was dead, especially at airports. It was fend for yourself or die trying, it seemed at gates, on planes and at the baggage claim. The offer took her by surprise. The man looked at Juliana and smiled, a bright-white, dazzling smile. Was he famous? He seemed to have that easy air of someone who’d done well for himself. She noted his Bruno Mali suede loafers. Yes, clearly, his bank account must be full. Still, Juliana hesitated. Did she want this help from a stranger? She was no damsel in distress. She could handle herself. She never asked for help, because doing that was a sign of weakness, and she wasn’t weak.
Another Blue Sky employee glanced up from the nearby counter. “Bette, a word?” she said, calling the employee over. The two women put their heads together and conversed and in seconds, Bette looked ashen. What happened? What had the other employee told her? Was her cover somehow blown? She didn’t think rank and file knew about her being a consultant or about her covert flights to take notes about customer service.
“I am so sorry,” Bette babbled as she returned to her post. “We can get you both on this flight, not a problem.” She glanced at Juliana’s ticket. Bette nodded quickly, typing even faster on her keyboard, her fingers clacking on the keys. The small printer at the counter spit out two new tickets. “I hope you don’t mind new seats. They’re both in coach, but...”
“I don’t mind,” her rescuer quickly said. “Unless you do?”
She glanced at the intriguing man next to her, craning her neck to look at him, he was so tall. Juliana wondered if she’d be able to concentrate on the work at hand with this man sitting next to her. She also wondered if he was a celebrity. If the employees were fawning all over him for a reason she didn’t understand. Then again, maybe it was just that smile, with the hint of mischief.
“No, I don’t mind,” she said.
“So glad to hear it. So sorry, again, for the inconvenience, Ms. Hart,” the employee gushed to Juliana again, apologetic. Maybe someone told them Juliana was there to evaluate their performance. But who? If someone had leaked her route, then all evaluation of the flight would be moot. The whole point was she needed to be anonymous on this flight, just another regular customer. She glanced at the man behind her. “Yes, sorry, let me apologize again.” Bette scanned both tickets and handed them back, eyes lingering longer on her rescuer’s face. No, Juliana thought, this wasn’t about her at all. This was about him. He was the reason she was getting on this flight.
“Not a problem,” he said, waving a hand as he stepped back. His voice carried the vaguest hint of an accent. British? She couldn’t quite tell.
He glanced at Juliana, stretching his hand out to show her she ought to go first. Chivalry, again. Part of her bristled at the prospect. She had always been strong enough to get her own doors and chairs, and yet another part found it oddly...refreshing. She was so used to elbowing her largely male coworkers for space at the conference room table that she’d forgotten what it was like for a man not to be vying to go first.
She rolled her compact carry-on through the open door of the gate as they both walked down the jet bridge. She could feel the heavy weight of the man’s steps behind her in the aluminum hallway with the thin carpet. The man was tall and solid, a wall of muscle, clearly. Who was this man who got things done with a snap of his fingers? A flight attendant greeted them with a curt nod of her head as she read their tickets and directed them upstairs to the two-level airbus, the airplane equivalent of a double-wide trailer, Juliana thought. The big plane was headed to Chicago, but after that, Honolulu. She knew the itinerary by heart, part of her Blue Sky project knowledge. Still, she felt a ripple of unease in her stomach as she boarded the plane. It was nothing, really. She flew all the time and never got nervous, so why did she suddenly feel like the walls of the plane seemed too tight? She gave herself a mental shake. Get it together. She glanced at her ticket and then realized they were at the very back of the plane, last row. Well, that was what they got for being late, she figured. She hoped being so close to the bathroom didn’t turn out to be unpleasant during the long flight.
“Window seat or aisle?” Juliana asked him.
“What would you prefer?” he demurred, cocking his head slightly, clear blue eyes never leaving her face. He gave no hint about whether or not he cared about where he sat. His broad shoulders blocked the aisle as he waited for her answer.
