HUNTER (The Caine Brothers Book 1) Read Free Page B

energy.
    He’d have to suck it up and focus on business and when he got back to Houston he’d find a woman and fuck himself dry.
    Unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple. Sitting in one place was making him crazy. He unbuckled his seatbelt and stood.
    “Would you like a drink?” He stepped out into the aisle.
    She looked up at him, those blue eyes full of teasing. He wondered what it would be like to have her on her knees in front of him looking up at him like that. His cock jumped at the idea, and he shifted to hide the damn thing from her eye-level sight.
    “You’re going to serve me?” she asked. “Don’t you have people for that?”
    “I think I can manage to pour a drink.”
    “If you say so. I’ll just have some ice water, please.”
    “You’re a cheap date.”
    She laughed, just a couple of small exhalations of air that sounded like a private joke between them. “I don’t drink when I fly. It usually makes me sick.”
    “Fair enough.”
    At the bar in the back of the cabin, he found a cold bottle of water in the fridge, and poured himself a stiff shot of whiskey. He tossed it back and poured another.
    When he turned around to head back, he slammed right into Allison, sloshing his drink all over her.
    She made an inarticulate sound of surprise.
    He said, “Shit.”
    They both said, “sorry” at the same time.
    “What are you sorry about?” He asked. “I spilled on you.”
    “I’m sorry I ran into you,” she said.
    She hadn’t exactly run into him. She’d just been there when he turned. “What’re you doing back here anyway?”
    “I wanted to stretch my legs, so I thought I’d help.”
    A large wet spot soaked from the middle of her chest down to her belly.
    She pinched a bit of the fabric and pulled it away from her skin, flapping it as if that little bit of movement would dry it. He caught a glimpse of the pink lace of her bra and his cock responded accordingly. He growled in frustration.
    “Excuse me?” she asked, a look of concern in her eyes. “Are you okay?”
    “I’m fine. You need to get out of that wet shirt.”
    One of her finely plucked brows went up, along with the corner of her mouth. “Oh really?”
    “You know what I meant. Our luggage is in the back. You can find a dry shirt to change into. We should be getting close soon, so hurry up.”

    Allison watched as a grumpy Hunter slunk back toward the front of the plane and threw himself into his seat. The view from behind him was fine, indeed. Mmm-hmm. The man had a sinfully beautiful ass.
    The last week had been awful. Work had been a collection of awkward silences, stilted conversations, and summoning of willpower. Somehow she found the strength not to gawk or devolve into fits of girlish giggling as a means to relieve the tension. When Friday came, she left the office, proud she’d got through the week without throwing herself at her boss.
    Climbing into a limo with him this morning had required nerves of steel. Climbing aboard the private jet, knowing they headed for a resort that specialized in romantic couples’ getaways had her all kinds of messed up. Facing a three-day weekend together sharing a hotel suite in a beautiful paradise was like asking an alcoholic to work as a bartender. She clung to the hope she’d survive without humiliating herself, but given how badly she wanted to touch him, she had her doubts. One touch would be like one drink for that alcoholic, or like trying to eat just one potato chip—a near impossibility.
    She found her luggage in the back of the plane. Unzipping it, she reached in and grabbed the first shirt she could find, a short-sleeved, scoop-neck purple tee.
    She peeked back into the passenger cabin. Hunter faced forward. Rather than squeezing into the little toilet compartment, she unbuttoned the wet blouse and peeled it off. She wadded it up and used it to dry the skin of her belly, then pulled the purple tee over her head.
    When she turned to head back she stopped in her tracks