I don't do romance. I don't do love. I certainly don't do relationships. Women are attracted to my power and money, and I like a nice ass and a pretty smile. It's a fair exchange - a business deal for pleasure.
Meeting Beth Harrison in the first-class cabin of my flight from Chicago to London throws me for a loop, and everything I know about myself and women goes out the window.
I'm usually good at reading people, situations, the markets. I know instantly if I can trust someone or if they're lying. But Beth is so contradictory and confounding, I don't know which way is up.
She's sweet but so sexy, she makes my knees weak and mouth dry.
She's confident but so vulnerable, I want to wrap her up and protect her from the world.
And then she fucks me like a train and just disappears, leaving me with my pants around my ankles, wondering which day of the week it is.
If I ever see her again, I don't know if I'll scream at her, strip her naked, or fall in love. Thank goodness I live in Chicago and she lives in London, and we'll never see each other again, right?
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