Passenger Princess: Chapter 23
‘What is that?’ Jaime asks when I step out of my bedroom four days later to head out for the day’s excursion.
‘A bag,’ I say with a smile, lifting the small cream-colored lace clutch.
‘You know what I mean,’ he says, and I do, of course.Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.
I went with a pink corset-esque top with bows at the shoulders and a short, cream skirt that’s fitted until mid-thigh before it flares out in a short ruffle. Although the top has an underwire to hold me in and give me much-needed support, my breasts nearly spill out the top, and although I’m wearing nude boy shorts under to cover my ass, the skirt is definitely short.
Jaime looks irritated.
‘Oh, this little old thing?’ I ask with a wide smile, twisting so the ruffles on my skirt flare just a bit.
‘Emphasis on little,’ he says with a frown. I can almost see the gears in his mind working.
‘Hush, it’s more coverage than half of the outfits I wore for the pageant. The bathing suit they made all of us wear barely covered anything,’ I say, referencing the required swimsuit I wore for the Miss Americana pageant.
‘Yeah, trust me, I know.’
‘You watched the pageant?’ I ask, suddenly interested.
‘Part of my job is knowing who I’m watching. Your photos are plastered all over the internet. Those swimsuit photos are pretty hard to avoid.’
‘Don’t sound too happy about that, now.’
‘Trust me, I’m not.’
‘Let me guess, you’re one of those guys who thinks a woman should only wear skirted one-pieces at the beach.’
‘No, but it would make my life a bit easier if you covered more of your ass.’
I take a step closer to him and smile. ‘So you’ve been watching my ass?’
Something flares in his eyes, but it’s gone as soon as it comes.
‘I think the entire country has seen your ass at this point.’
‘Maybe it’s a good thing you don’t like me then,’ I say with an eye roll.
‘You can say that again,’ he says.
‘Why, because if I was yours, you’d go all caveman on me, put me in a nun habit at all times?’ Something in him seems to snap as his jaw goes tight. He steps closer with a shake of his head, and my heart begins to race.
‘No, Princess.’
‘So you’d just never let me leave the house?’ My voice is a breathy whisper, barely two feet between us.
‘No, sweetheart. If you were mine, I’d take you everywhere. Anywhere. Show you off any chance I got. A woman like you, you don’t tell her what to do, what to wear. You let her do it, then prepare to watch her ass as she moves, stay alert while she lives her life, ensuring no harm comes to her. You make it so she never has to realize there’s a world outside of her bubble that isn’t sunshine and rainbows.‘
His words stop my breath in my lungs, stop the blood in my veins, my heart skipping a beat.
‘Sounds pretty close to what we’re doing right now, doesn’t it?’ I ask, and even to my own ears, my voice sounds breathy and seductive, a Marilyn Monroe quality to it. ‘Me wearing whatever I want, doing whatever I want, you watching my ass so nothing bad happens to me?’
He shakes his head, a bit of regret in the look. ‘But you’re not mine, Ava.’
‘I could be,’ I say, taking a small step forward and smiling up at him. He’s so fucking tall, and I haven’t put my shoes on, making me even smaller than normal around him.
‘I’m your bodyguard,’ he says as if he doesn’t want to say it but is forcing the words out all the same.
‘But if you weren’t,’ I clarify. ‘If I wasn’t a client, if I wasn’t someone you were paid to protect, you’d want me?’ One more step, and I’m almost chest-to-chest with him. I feel exposed like this, in a tiny outfit, him dressed in a black tee and black pants.
‘Ava…’
‘For science, Jaime.’ I put a hand on his chest and feel his heart beating there, pounding against my palm.
He must see something on my face or maybe he’s as tired of the games as I am, because he finally makes what feels like a confession. ‘Yeah, Princess, if you weren’t a client, I’d kiss you.’
That’s what I need to hear. I won’t throw myself at a man who doesn’t want me, who never wanted me or never would want me, but this? This I can work with.
Slowly, giving him time to say no, to push me off—a move I would respect even if I’m constantly pushing at his buttons—my free hand moves up until it’s on the side of his neck. Then I move, lifting to the tips of my toes, rising to try and meet him, using light pressure on my hand to urge him to bend his head a bit, which he does before he wraps an arm around my waist, pasting my body to his in the most delicious way.
And then my lips are on his, a gentle press, a lingering of lips on lips that has my heart racing and butterflies erupting in my stomach.
It’s over much sooner than I would like as I lower back to my flat feet with a gentle, easy smile on my lips. My eyes slowly float open to look at him, his head tipping down to look at me, eyes discerning and reading me.
‘You kissed me,’ he says simply, and I feel every syllable as it moves through his chest against my nipples in the absolute best way possible.
‘I did,’ I say with a smile.
‘You kissed me,’ he clarifies like he finds the concept absolutely baffling.
‘Sure did,’ I repeat, with a smile.
‘That’s not how that works, Ava.’
I lift an eyebrow and tip my lips up. ‘I think it’s exactly how it worked,’ I say with a laugh.
‘No, not with me.’
I tip my head to the side and roll my eyes. ‘Then how’s it supposed to work, Jaime?’ I say with challenge in my words, waiting for his stupid man-explanation where he will probably tell me I shouldn’t have done that because of work or blurring lines or who the fuck knows.
Instead, as seems to be his way, he surprises me by doing neither of those.
‘Like this.’