Professional Restraint

26 On Second Thought

Liam

Never have I been as conflicted and distracted as I am right now. Ella is once again asleep on my shoulder, having latched on for dear life on take off for our flight home.

I've always kept my work and personal life separate, but Ella has made this impossible. Never in a million years did I think I'd be in this position. Terrance says I'm under her spell, and I'm hard pressed to disagree.

I sound like one of those cheesy hallmark movies when I say she's different. Smart, sexy, funny, and surprisingly playful, something I never thought I'd appreciate.

My past partners have always known what they were getting into ahead of time, and played their role. At the time it was satisfying, but now? It pales in comparison, and we've only just started.

Declan and Sophia have been putting in long hours to tie up the buy out—by all accounts it's a steal. He's already organizing a team to oversee the transition and root out the poor employees.

"Sir?" the flight attendant says, smiling at me, then looking at El. "We'll be landing soon."

I chuckle, looking at El as she sleeps soundly. "She's still strapped in from take off, nervous flyer."

"Very good, sir." She pauses and looks down at El one last time with a small smirk. "She looks quite comfortable to me."

El... what am I going to do with you?

My mind instantly replays her answer from the other day, as if to torture me.

'What ever you want, Sir.' The way her warm brown eyes gazed into mine left my thoughts running right off the tracks... time has not improved them.

That's the problem though, isn't it? The things I want to do to her, with her, would send a normal woman running. Yet El? Would she?

There's a submissive streak a mile long in her, but also a playful side. What of her kinky side? Thinking back to when she wrapped my tie around her neck, I can't help but wonder if she's as innocent as I assume?

I'm convinced she has no idea what she does to me. Every 'Sir,' has me aching to reward her and rolled eye makes my palm itch. Carissa and Terrance just laugh and egg her on; I swear they love to torture me.

The engine's pitch changes, and the plane descends, drawing me out of my reflection. Thankfully, El sleeps through the entire process, only waking when the tires hit the tarmac.

She wakes with a start, her eyes wide as she struggles to get her bearings. I give her hand a gentle squeeze, drawing her attention to me.

"I've got you."

Relief flashes in her eyes, and the worst is over. As the plane taxis to a stop at our gate, she flashes me a sheepish smile, noticing our hands.

"Did, did you... I mean, the whole time?" She sputters.

I chuckle at her flustered state. "Breathe, El."

Divine intervention saves her as they announce departure. She unbuckles and stretches, reminiscent of a kitten after a long nap. I follow suit, reaching above us for our carry-on, then guide her out.

Whether or not it's conscious, I notice every time she waits for me to guide her. I'd be lying if I said that didn't stroke my dominant side in the best way possible. Every time she moves in close, seeking shelter from unwanted attention or reassurance is like a drug.

I'm addicted.

Ella lags, her pace getting slower the closer we get to the gate. The way she chews her bottom lip makes it clear something is bothering her.