Unleashed: Volume 3 (Unleashed #3) (3 page)

“I mean—” she
paused, glancing at me, growing self-conscious. “I’m sure you can
believe it. I guess you travel all the time now.”

I nodded. “More time
on the road than off.”

“What’s your
favorite place to visit?”

I didn’t need to
think about it. “Rome.”

She gasped. “Really?
You’ve been to Rome? What’s it like?”

“It’s loud and
gritty and busy. You’ll be walking around and suddenly you’re
next to a ruin that’s been there since Julius Caesar. And the food
is…” I shook my head. How could you describe perfection?

“I’ve always
dreamed about seeing Rome. And Paris.”

“Paris is more
polished and refined. Every street you turn down looks like a
painting. It’s gorgeous. In Rome, motorcycles do 80 through the
city roundabouts. There’s more people shouting.”

“You like that.”
She laughed.

“It suits me more.”

“Have you ridden a
motorcycle around Italy?”

“Not yet.” I could
picture her on the back of a motorcycle, arms and legs wrapped around
me tight. We could explore the Amalfi coast. I’d like her in a
bikini next to me on the beach, watching her curves as she played in
the water, massaging her skin with lotion, sliding a naughty finger
down into her sex when no one was looking but we might get caught.

I looked away and
cleared my throat. “So what do you want to do in New York?”

“The Big Apple!”
She clapped her hands and went on to chatter happily about the
classic tourist attractions, the Empire State Building, the Statue of
Liberty and Rockefeller Center. Funny, I had to have been to New York
30 or 40 times by now, but I’d never done any of that stuff. All
business all the time, in New York I put in my hours in Midtown or
Wall Street offices by day. At night I ran the circuit of fundraising
galas and gallery openings where big wigs liked to see and be seen.
Partnerships formed over dry martinis and fancy ice sculptures as
much if not more so than boardrooms. I played plenty, too, but the
types of women I spent time with in New York didn’t exactly want to
sightsee.

You wouldn’t think a
fortune made off of wilderness tourism would draw me to cities so
often, but the larger my ventures grew the more I delegated. I found
myself spending less and less time at my properties, more and more
time forming partnerships and attracting new investors. All that
happened where the money lived, and money lived in cities.

The limo pulled right
up onto the tarmac next to my private plane. A luxury, sure, but one
I could afford, especially since it took money to make more money. A
private plane served my lifestyle, got me to three far-flung places
in the same day, while also giving me the space to close deals.
Especially with the tech guys, I’d found. You flew them up into the
wilds, gave them a taste of it all and on the way back to reality
they almost always went in big to partner up on the latest luxury
site.

Kara’s eyes grew wide
as a driver opened the door and escorted her out onto the tarmac. “Is
that for us?”

“It’s my plane.”
I couldn’t deny a certain satisfaction at the statement. I didn’t
think much of show-offs, the kind of guys who flashed their Rolexes
any chance they got. But Kara made me want to show off, puff out my
chest, show her the man I’d become.

She brought her hand to
my arm and looked up at me with gleaming sincerity in her crystal
blue eyes. “I’m so amazed by you. You’ve accomplished so much.
And you’ve done it all on your own.”

Thankfully, my driver
continued to escort Kara, helping her up the stairs into the plane. I
swallowed, still able to feel her hand on me, the weight of her
words. Goddamn. Apparently I could close major million-dollar deals
with financial sharks and pound it out at the gym relentlessly for
hours. But Kara? She about knocked me out with a few words.

She was right, I had
done it all on my own. She might be naive, but she got that. What
killed me was how many rich guys thought they’d clawed their way
solo to the top, too. They tended to have a huge blind spot—exactly
where they were standing on their daddy’s shoulders, or getting a
huge handout from grandma.

What you realized when
you got into top earners was that almost everyone with wealth came
from wealth. But they liked to think that they’d grown up middle
class, figure I probably had as well. They didn’t see the invisible
padding they’d had all around them their entire lives, their
parents and extended family helping them out not simply with cash—and
sure that helped—but with risk mitigation. If they crashed and
burned after they gambled, they’d have a soft landing. I knew any
misstep would take me out of the game completely.

Good thing I thrived on
risk. I liked the razor-thin margin between success and failure. It
pumped me through with adrenaline. No investor could be frightened by
risk, but I went one step further and actually sought it out. The
higher the odds, the more I liked the gamble.

Ready for a high-stakes
game, I followed Kara up the stairs into my plane. The interior was
organized into two sections. Up front there was a gleaming hardwood
table and four wide, leather seats. That’s where I did business,
ate meals, and played poker with VIP clients and partners who
expected nothing less. The back was dedicated to kickin’ it with a
stocked wet bar, a leather sofa sectional and a 65-inch flat-screen
retractable TV.

I placed my hand to the
small of Kara’s back and steered her toward the back of the plane.
“We don’t need the table,” I explained. Giving her back a light
caress, I added, “Though I might want to put it to use later.”

I let my fingers graze
her ass and she gave a light, nervous laugh, instantly flushing pink.
A devious smile pulled at the corner of my lips. I wanted her to
remember last night, bent over my desk and working for me, ass up
getting spanked and stroked. I could hear her desperate moans of
pleasure, feel her wetness sliding along my thick fingers. I wanted
it on her mind, too, a spike of arousal as she boarded my private
plane.

She settled on the
couch next to the window. Bottles of water, magazines and light
blankets were stocked in various bins and pockets to meet our needs.
Sometimes I paid an attendant to tend to food and drink service for
the flight. Not this time. Today in the cabin of the plane Kara and I
would be alone.

“This is crazy.”
Kara caressed the smooth, buttery leather with her hands, taking it
all in. I sat next to her and stretched out my long legs. Now that I
didn’t have to do it anymore, I wondered how big guys like me even
made it onto commercial airplanes, squeezed into coach, trying to get
some work done next to a tantruming toddler and behind some dude with
his seat reclined all the way back.

“A private plane!”
she exclaimed with a laugh, standing to check out the fully-stocked
bar.

“Help yourself.”

“What do you want?”

I shrugged. “Whatever
you’re having.” She started fixing us two glasses with rocks,
limes and Pellegrino.

I liked watching Kara
enjoy herself, take in the opulence of my surroundings. It had all
amazed me, too, when I’d started out, though I’d never showed it.
I’d discovered I was a master at blending in and I used my skills
to the utmost, immediately commanding a presence among men of far
more consequence. Weakness didn’t get you into the ballgame, and no
matter how many times early on I’d wanted to exclaim “no shit!”
when someone rolled up in a tricked-out Bentley or pressed some
button like James Bond to reveal a wet bar in a C-suite office, I’d
had to play it cool.

Now, I was the one used
to seeing other people get off on my private plane. Girls loved it,
the exclusivity, the intimacy. I usually felt aloof, watching them
take it in, my game playing into theirs. It almost got boring. But
sweet Kara with her high ponytail and bright eyes, so unpracticed,
fresh and real, she made me feel it all over again.

She sat next to me and
handed me a drink. “How did you make all this money, Declan?”
From her it didn’t sound greedy or fawning. It sounded simple. She
knew I’d had nothing. How come I now had so much?

“Wilderness tourism.”

“I figured that. But
how did you do it?”

“You want my story?”

“I want your story.
From where we last left off.” She took a sip, her words bringing up
memories for us both. I’d certainly left off. I didn’t like being
that guy, the one who’d stolen off in the dark of night. But it was
better that way. She knew what I was capable of, the real me.

“I worked at that
ranch I told you about, the one opening up to tourists.”

“I remember you
telling me about it.”

“The guy running the
place took a bad fall, spent months in a full body cast. He needed
someone to take over. I did it.”

“And you were good at
it.”

“Damn good.” She
smiled at my arrogance and I gave her a wink. “After the accident,
even after he healed up he wanted to slow down, spend more time with
his family. So he made me a partner.”

“OK, but how’d you
grow it into all this?” She gestured around to the private plane.

“Full of questions,
aren’t you?” With her, somehow I didn’t mind. She wasn’t a
journalist mucking around looking for dirt in my past. They set my
teeth on edge.

A magazine had just
done a spread on my properties, complete with a photo of me, tall and
cool in a custom-made Italian suit. At first, they’d wanted me in a
cowboy hat and old dusty Wranglers up on a horse. I’d killed that
idea. That part of my life was behind me, now. I’d devoted too much
time and effort into becoming the consummate businessman. No sense in
reminding anyone that deep inside I might still be a no-name cowpoke.
Hell, with my luck, too much publicity would stir up the muck and my
deadbeat father might come creeping out from the slime, eager to meet
the son he’d abandoned now that there was cash in it.

But talking to Kara put
me strangely at ease. “I invested,” I told her. “I never spent
a cent on myself, took everything I earned and put it into
properties, buying, improving, expanding.”

“How are you so good
at it?”

“Instinct.” It
sounded crazy, but I somehow knew how to spot opportunities, how to
make something out of nothing.

“Yeah?”

“Guess it’s in my
blood.” I didn’t know how to explain it. I saw a lot of guys with
MBAs who lacked it. I didn’t know if it could be taught. I didn’t
even know how I’d learned it. I just knew I had it.

“Is that what your
family does?”

“What?”

“Your family.” She
stopped, perhaps growing shy at the suddenly cold look in my eyes. “I
mean, you never talked much about them. But your parents, what do
they do?”

“My mother knew how
to hustle.” I gave a dry laugh. “I don’t know about my dad. I
never met him.”

“So, you don’t
know. Maybe—?”

“No.” I cut her
off. I didn’t like how much weight she placed on family, like what
your family did defined you. I’d spent my whole life proving the
opposite. I didn’t want to sit here with her speculations, like
maybe I was a chip off the old block. My father was a dog who’d run
out on his pregnant girlfriend, if she’d even been that to him. I
didn’t know who he was and I had no interest in finding out.

“Look, we’re taking
off.” I shifted on the couch, gesturing at the window and bringing
a large thigh against her slender leg. She looked down, instantly
riveted by our physical contact. She could feel it too, I realized,
the intense electricity that ran between us. Even the slightest
contact provoked a full charge.

Reaching over to her
thigh, I placed a hand on her white jeans and began tracing the
inside seam with my thumb. I didn’t reach too far up. It was the
kind of gesture you could make in public without raising an eyebrow.
But we were in private, the pilots up front in the cockpit, and this
was just the beginning.

She sat up straight,
her limbs becoming still and aware.

“Do you see the
hotel?” I asked, reaching my other arm across her to point out the
window. My bicep grazed her breast and I felt the heat of her through
my shirt.

“Yes,” she
murmured, drawing in her breath, her nipples growing taut. So
responsive. It brought out the predator in me.

“Did you enjoy
yourself in my hotel?” I asked, stroking steadily along the seam on
her inner thigh.

“Yes,” she purred.
While I enjoyed her happy chatter, I liked watching talking become
more difficult for her, her body starting to take over and leave her
mind blank.

“I like these jeans,
Kara.” My palm moved now along both her thighs, admiring her,
slowly stoking the fires, the cotton form-fitting and soft. “They
mold to your curves.” My fingers came near the center of her V, but
not quite touching. She parted her legs for me to allow more access,
her breathing growing shallow.

“Did you buy them for
me?”

“Yes.”

“Stand up and show
me.” Shy, hesitant, she stood up. I motioned with my finger for her
to turn around. I wanted to see her from all angles. Her ass was a
work of art in those jeans. “Take them off,” I growled.

“But we’re on a
plane!” Kara protested as if we were in the middle of coach
surrounded by other passengers.

“Are you worried
someone’s going to press the call button? An air marshal’s going
to come arrest you?” Her eyes flitted around the plane’s interior
as if testing out the likelihood of those scenarios.

“It’s just you and
me, sweetheart,” I confirmed. “The pilots are up in the cockpit.
They’re not coming back here.” I turned the force of my dark gaze
on her. “It’s time for you to strip down the way I want. Give me
your foot.” She stretched out one of her legs. I grasped her ankle
in my hand. “First these have to come off.” I reached down to her
gold high-heeled sandals, fumbling with the straps.