Read Online Wherever It Leads by Adriana Locke - Free Book Online Page A

jet in front of me. A man in a suit and tie is waiting for me at the ramp.
    “Can I take your bags, Ms. Calloway?”
    “Sure.” I take a satchel off my shoulder and set it beside my suitcase. “I’ll take this smaller one on with me, if that’s okay?”
    “Absolutely. Go on inside,” he says. “Mr. Abbott is waiting for you. We’ll be taking off shortly.”
    Nodding, I head up the stairs. My legs feel like jelly as I get closer to the entrance, the dark opening awaiting me with all of the answers to my anxieties. I pause midway up and look behind me and nearly march right back down. I know what’s behind me: safety, security, predictability. Everything ahead of me is the exact opposite, and the thought terrifies me.
    “Miss?”
    I spin around to see a woman with ruby red lips hovering in the door way. Taking a gulp of smoggy air, nearly choking to death, I make it up the remaining steps and into the chilly cabin.
    “Ms. Calloway, welcome aboard,” she says.
    “Thank you.” My hand trembles as I extend it. She shakes it warmly.
    “Mr. Abbott is in there,” she nods to my right. “My name is Suzie. Please let me know if you need anything at all.”
    She goes through an opening to the cockpit and I’m left standing. A part of me wants to flee, to run back to Presley’s car and just go to the safety of home. Before I can, Fenton comes into sight. Our eyes lock and he stops in his tracks.
    “Welcome aboard.” He takes a few steps until he’s standing directly in front of me. His cologne washes over me, tempting me with its mixture of soap and a hint of spiciness. It’s the human equivalent of crystal meth, completely addictive. The scent alone would make me wet, but combined with the sound of his voice, the look on his face—the promise of what’s to come—I’m nearly combusting standing in front of him.
    “Are you okay?” he asks. He takes my bag, his fingertips brushing my skin, setting it on fire. A gasp parts my lips at the contact, a shaky intake of breath that I know he hears because he allows his fingers to linger a touch longer than necessary. When I look at his face, he’s smirking. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
    “Yes, yes, I’m fine. Thank you,” I blush.
    Fenton takes a step away, turning his back to me, and I can gawk unabashedly for the first time. He’s wearing a pair of ultra-dark denim jeans with pristine white Adidas. A heather grey Polo shirt stretches across his broad shoulders. His dark hair appears to have been styled in some semblance at one point but now looks messy. And delicious.
    He motions towards a set of large leather seats. “We’ll be taking off soon. Would you like a drink?”
    I need a heavy shot of whiskey and chastise myself for not taking one before I left the house. “No, I’m fine.”
    “Very well.” He takes a seat along the wall. I guess that he’d been sitting there before I came aboard because a briefcase and a tumbler of a honey-colored liquid sit beside it. I wonder vaguely if he’s nervous, too. “Would you like to sit?”
    I force a swallow and head towards him. This was the part I wanted to avoid. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Sit next to him? Sit a couple seats down? Sit on his cock? Flushing at the last option, I take the seat to his left. Trying hard not to fidget and seem the nervous ball of energy I really am, I fasten my belt with clumsy hands.
    The smoothness of his voice catches me off-guard. “I know I’ve asked this already, but are you okay?”
    “Of course.”
    “Look at me, Brynne.”
    Pulling my gaze to his, I’m trapped as always. He pins me to my seat with only a look. I can’t breathe, the weight of his stare nearly unbearable. He searches my face for something—I’m not sure what—but he doesn’t seem to find it.
    “I’m glad you’re here,” he says, a huskiness to his voice that goes right through me.
    “Me too.”
    “I want you to be.”
    “I am. I promise.”
    He opens his mouth to say