Catching Preeya (Paradise South Book 3) (12 page)

And so the master surgeon got back to working his miracles. He and his delectable tongue whirled and sucked and spun her into a river of release she’d never dared to imagine before.

“Be in me. Come with me, Ben.”

“Not yet.” He dipped his tongue deep into her sex and pressed into a hot point. Her hips thrust up hard. He moaned with pleasure—God, that got her so much wetter—then he lifted his head. “See, I’ve got a lot of work to do down here before I leave the operating theater,” he said in a British accent.

She laughed and heaved and wriggled as he did what he wanted to her. What she apparently needed, so said her doctor.

And round after torrential round, his fingers, his lips and tongue, and finally his magic, maneuvering steel dipping in and out of her, too—yet still insistent on his own delayed gratification—brought her to higher and higher peaks. Loftier peaks meant farther and deeper falls into endless bliss. God, he drove her to the brink and back again.

After countless releases—she felt so goddamn selfish—she had nothing left in her to release—no tension, no worry, no question. All that remained was that same joy he’d injected her with when their lovemaking had begun hours ago. Her body seemed to permanently hover at that joyous peak now.

But there was more pleasure to be had.
His
pleasure. She needed him to explode and shake inside her again. She craved his satisfaction—satisfaction gotten by her, from her, in her.

*

Their eyes were locked—their bodies, too—and as she rode him, rocked him hard and deep from above, he went to a new realm, a new stratosphere.

“You like this, Doctor? Or…” She slowed her rolling hips and brought her breasts topped with her
dark-cherry
nipples, down to his chest then mouth while sliding back and forth along his solid and trembling length.

“Oh God, yes. Like that. Slow like that.” Long and slow and forever.

But he couldn’t hold on
forever
, though he’d give anything to work that miracle. “I’m coming, Preeya.” He gripped her ass so hard she squealed. He grunted and grunted again, and again with each constricting, convulsing release. Inside her, surrounded and devoured by her tight, hot embrace.

*

His eyelids showed heavy after they’d flowed together a third and
maybe
final time for the night.
Maybe.
She looked at him and giggled, not quite believing the level he’d taken her to, she’d taken him to, they’d taken each other to.

It shocked her when she looked up at the red neon clock. 3:00 a.m. Two hours had gone by in a fantastic, dreamlike blink of an eye.

And now Ben held her in his arms. He didn’t make it fourteen hours, but he definitely made her night—no, her year. Who was she kidding? He’d blown her decade—her entire sexual lifespan was rocked by this man. Practically a stranger, but too familiar for her to put into words.

Words.
At the bar. Words and judgments had been spoken and made and unleashed, and all very likely true. Brave, true words from this
doctor
, this tall stranger, this man with the
forever-sun
in his eyes.

CHAPTER 12

S
he couldn’t see
the clock in her current and extremely delectable position—spooning and safe in Ben’s grasp. And even though the soft sunlight creeping under the blackout drapes gave her a general gauge, well, based on yesterday’s guest room surprise, she needed to check just in case. She shifted only slightly as not to wake him. But the neon digital numbers were still halved from her vantage point. She lifted up onto her elbow so she could see over Ben, onto his nightstand. 10:00 a.m.

Okay, plenty of
time.

Her eyelids sank back down like a cozy blanket, her body still entwined with his, at home in a hotel room, as if they had been there forever.

He stirred then smiled, a slight hum escaping his lips.

“
Mmmm
, Jamie—I could lie here for days and days with you in my arms.”

Jamie?

A quivering scowl swallowed her smile as her heart rammed her rib cage.

Mmm-hmm
, his “sister.”
Right
.

Goddamn prick.

And fuck me!
Too good to be true usually was. Her chest heaved with silent regret and disdain and more sinking disappointment. To let herself go wild about this man. Ugh, she could just strangle herself.

How had she let this happen? A married man? A married
passenger
man. And a doctor?
The
doctor from
her flight
! Medical report cosigners. She’d crossed so many lines she could hardly count—or breathe.

Too much and too depressing.

She rolled out of the bed, sly and stealthy, and threw on just enough clothing for the quick escape to her hotel room down the hall. She found her room key, tucked her panties, bra, and shoes under her arm, and slid out, shutting his hotel room door behind her with the quietest, most anticlimactic click of the latch.

*

Brushing his teeth, he
didn’t
go over it again in his head for the fifth time that morning—her leaving his arms, his bed, his room before he woke. And after eating breakfast alone in the barren bar, he didn’t analyze the
why
or
what
behind the lack of handwritten message on the pillow, the counter, the bathroom mirror, or…maybe in his shoe? And no answer when he knocked at her door or called her room.

But by noon when she wasn’t down in the lobby to catch the minivan to the mini airport, he wasn’t angry or
self-conscious
that she’d left him cold. No, he was worried for her, that she’d miss the flight. And maybe that he’d done something, said something, or hadn’t?

But they’d connected. In his gut he knew they’d connected. So something had to have happened. She left some message or note of explanation at the front desk. No doubt.

Reluctant but compelled, he went to the front desk clerk with the dangerously flirty eyes. She leaned forward as he approached, her cleavage too pronounced for his comfort.
Jesus, this
generation…

“Yes, hello. Can you try calling room one
twenty-three
? Preeya Patel should be down here by now for the airport shuttle.”

“Ms. Patel has already checked out, sir.” The girl’s voice was too breathy for the context.

What the hell? Had the airline rerouted her? Yes, that must’ve been it, and she just didn’t want to wake him. And now he knew he’d missed a note with her phone number somewhere in his room, or maybe even with Miss Young Thing here, and she was withholding Preeya’s message, playing with him.

“What time did she check out?”

The girl looked at her screen. “At ten thirty, it says here, sir.”

“Any messages left by her, for me? I’m in room—”

“One eighteen. Yes, sir, I mean Dr. Trainer, I know,” she said with a wink. God, this was bordering on awkward. She started typing, shaking her head from side to side. “No, Doctor. No messages. But is there anything I can get for you?” Head tilted, lashes batting.

He heard a car pull up to the automatic entrance doors, which slid open on cue. “No. Thank you, though.” He placed his room key card on the counter and sighed. “Take care, now.” He took himself and his roller bag out to the shuttle, confused and fighting disappointment. No message. No number. What the hell? What the hell had he missed?

*

When her flight team arrived, a proud smirk took over her face.

“Kell!” Jess from San Diego called over her shoulder. “Do you see what I see?”

“I’m not sure, Jess. It looks like Preeya beat us here, and seems to be done with seats, carts, and, Jesus, bulkheads, too? But, you know, I had a crazy night with John from Atlanta—it could be all that leftover adrenaline flowin’ through me, making me see things,” Denver Kelly teased. Preeya had worked with the two enough times over her FA stint for the expected reaction.

“I can get here on time! Even early! It’s not unheard of,” Preeya defended with a light huff.

“Preeya, love, it really
is
unheard of. But yes, you’ve always been
able
to.” Kelly cracked up. The tall, slender blonde swayed her narrow hips down the aisle toward her and kissed her cheek. “Good to see you, girlfriend. And thanks for hitting the check sheet for us.”

True motivation be told, Preeya had done everything possible to avoid the main concourse, and the plane served as the ultimate hideout. Plus, busywork took her mind off her fury.

When she’d gotten to the airport way early, she’d had no cover at all to escape a
run-in
with Ben. There was no Jetta Air lounge in damned Boise, Idaho. For a couple of long hours she hid behind her book while tucked away at a back booth in the airport’s one bar, figuring that he’d never gravitate to it—
if
he came looking for her, which he wouldn’t because he’d already gotten what he’d wanted. So yeah, the bar was a safe bet—he’d probably revert back to
rigid and responsible
as soon as he stepped out of the hotel. Into the real world. The world where he’s married or involved or whatever the fuck.
Asshole
.

Dr. Ben Trainer, just another damn cliché.

Which made
her
into yet
another
cliché. Dropout, trolley dolly, flaky fiancée,
has-been
groupie.
Ugh.
Now Dr. Ben’s
on-flight
medical assistant turned
off-flight
side fuck.

Just,
no
!

Hey, Pree, no regrets.
And live and learn—another
mom-ism
.

Okay, fine…learn then! Stop making the same fucking mistakes, and
learn!

She’d gnashed her teeth hard realizing that waiting until Vallarta to begin her whole
self-focus
thing
had been a stall tactic.
No more waiting, no more excuses.
That’s when she’d stopped thinking and started moving. Through the terminal at top
speed-walk
-
in-heels
speed
. Long before the
ninety-minute
mark for her shift’s
check-in
, she’d rolled her little
carry-on
to her gate while praying that the aircraft would be early.

And it had been, thankfully.

So she got on board early, before the entire crew. A good start to her
anti-procrastination
and pro
self-focus
campaign.

She and Jess handled
last-minute
coach-class
items in the back—Preeya taking an extra second to check the medi kit—while Kelly finalized her
first-class
preparations up front.

Dr. Ben Trainer would be in first class to Houston—if he didn’t pull another Mr. Nice Guy seat swap—and so as long as Preeya kept to her section, she’d never have to see him again. Yeah, she’d be in coach while the selfless doctor, selfless lover—s
elfless
, her ass—would live it up or sleep in cozy comfort after an exhilarating and exhausting night of
heart-pounding
,
mind-blowing
sex.

Chills sprinted through her, shivers exponential in degree to those from her disastrous night with Josh. She tried to shake it off, but the vibrations ran too deep. So much for Gigi’s theory of the “dynamism and charisma of Preeya Patel.” And so much for the existence of instinct and intuition. She really should have fucking known.

She sat in her jump seat out of view from the aisle, texted Prana,
Boring Boise, Idaho, to Houston, Texas, Love Pree,
and then hunted for her book to hide behind again.

Pulling the novel from her purse, she smiled at the bookmark, slid it to the back page, then found her spot—
Chapter 6,
Her Name Matters
. Hilarious and perfect. Because no, in fact, her name didn’t. Her name hadn’t mattered worth a damn.
Jamie’s
did.

*

“Is there a Preeya Patel on this flight? A flight attendant?
Near-violet
eyes?”

A few people behind him cleared their throats to move him along.

But screw them.

The tall blond attendant smiled then glanced at his boarding pass. “Yes, in fact, she is on duty in coach class. But if you could kindly take your seat now, right there in 3A, I can bring you a refreshment?”

“Um, sure, but I—”

“Please, Dr. Trainer,” she whispered, her hot breath tickling his ear, “there are several guests waiting behind you.”

He sighed and moved to his seat, clearing the aisle for the backup he’d created.

But how did that woman know he was
Dr.
Trainer? No title was noted on his boarding pass. Had Preeya told the flight attendant about him? And
what
about him?

Who cared? More irritating to him was that if she was on this flight, then why the early departure from the hotel? Giving her the benefit of the doubt just expired.

And denying his anger had only made it escalate in absolute value. They’d undoubtedly connected last night. Deeply. For hours. And he knew she’d stayed in his arms until at least 6:00 a.m., when he drifted awake and watched her sleep for a while before falling away again into a dream—with her in it.

The cluster of
first-class
folks had cleared and the flight attendant, Kelly—so read her tag—approached him. “What can I offer you to drink, Doctor?”

He smiled. “May I ask, how do you know I’m a doctor?”

“The entire Jetta Air crew knows what happened yesterday. You saved that boy’s life. So amazing. Hopefully this flight will be much less dramatic.” She winked and patted his hand. “So what can I get you to start this flight off right?” Wink.

Well, actually, if you can switch my seat with anyone in the back row of coach so I can talk to Preeya and find out what the fuck?
“A large bottle of water will be fine,” he said, needing further remedy for his underlying hangover. “And I know Preeya must be very busy, but if there is downtime for her, would you mind asking her to…well, just please ask her if…that I need to speak with her about…the medical forms we had completed yesterday.”

“Sure, Doctor. I will pass along the message. But if she can’t catch you on board, after we land in Houston you can grab her…if your connection isn’t too tight,” she said. Then she glanced at his itinerary on his tray table. “But you should be fine, as it seems you have a hefty
three-hour
layover there. And Preeya is part of the Puerto Vallarta crew as well. You’ll have ample time to connect. If not in Vallarta, at the latest.”

“Thanks very much.” She’d be going to Vallarta, too? His pulse spiked in the center of his chest. Yes, he’d catch her. He had to. He’d find out what the deal was, without a doubt.

Kelly came back, placed a napkin down, then the perspiring bottle of water. But he slipped the napkin out first. “Thank you, Kelly, and…” He quickly pulled the pen from his shirt pocket, jotted his cell number down, and handed the wispy textured square to the woman, “would you please give this to Preeya just in case we somehow miss each other? It’s really very important.”

“Of course I will.” Her lip curled at one corner while looking him up and down, then she winked again. He cringed, the front desk clerk at the Boise Inn coming to mind. He wondered if the woman would give the napkin to Preeya like he’d asked, or keep his number for herself? “Right away, Doctor.”