Tainted Desire (Desire Series, #1) (3 page)

      “If you don’t call him, I will!” She tried to grab his number from my tray. I playfully swatted her hand away. It took me a week to decide, but eventually I called him and we went on our first date. We went to a high-end steak restaurant and shared a bottle of wine. Later that evening we walked along the beach, talking to one another so easily, that everything seemed perfect.

    We dated for six months; dinner, movies, more walks along the Lake Michigan shore line, before he shyly asked me to move in with him. It took me several days to answer him but ultimately
, I decided that I loved being with him. At night when I would lay alone in my bed at my parents’ house, I longed to be in his arms, to feel the warmth of his body against mine.

     He helped me move my things in that next weekend and we fell into a routine just like a married couple. We went to work, did household chores, the cooking, and had wonderful
overwhelming sex. I decided to stay on my regular shift at the casino so I could be at home during the night with Dylan. I can’t pinpoint an event or anything that I might have done to make Dylan change. About three months after I moved in, we had our first argument. I had already quit my job and was staying home day after long boring day. I wanted to go to a dance club with some of my former coworkers and he said, “You just want to go shake your ass with your slutty friends and see who you can attract. I won’t allow it Kylie, you belong to me.”

     “Belong to you? I don’t belong to anyone. I just want to have some fun with my friends, let loose a little. I’m tired of sitting in this apartment doing nothing. You go out with Tyler after work whenever you want. How am I to know you two aren’t picking up women?” At this point I was seething, the nerve of him to tell me what I can or cannot do.

     It happened so fast, I didn’t see it coming or have time enough to react. His fist shot out and connected with my nose and cheekbone. I remember my head snapping back and intense pain shooting through my entire face. The pain was so immense it automatically brought tears to my eyes. I instantly tasted that unmistakable metallic flavor of blood in my mouth. I stood there in utter shock with my hand over my nose and blood dripping on the carpet, not really comprehending what just happened.

**********

   “Ma’am, we’re at the airport.” I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I didn’t realize the car stopped moving. I glance out the window and sure enough, we are parked at the curbside drop off area. I quickly dig in my purse and pay for my fare, leaving him with a huge tip. Somehow hoping the generous tip will make up for my behavior a few minutes ago. As I reach for the door, I feel obligated to say something. “Sir, about earlier, I’m really sorry about…” He puts up a hand and waves me off as if it’s not a big deal.

     “No problem ma’am, you just take care of yourself.”

     I walk through the doors and into the airport, shocked by the amount of people hustling and bustling about. The airport is much busier than I anticipated for this early in the morning. Glancing at my watch, I realize I only have an hour before my flight takes off. I start to panic when I see the amount of people waiting in the ticketing line. Getting my ticket alone could take an hour, and somehow I have to make it through ticketing, security, and boarding. I realize I need a miracle to make it on time.  

     I spot a row of machines that
resemble ATM’s, but the sign says, “Self-Service Check-In Kiosk,” and each machine only has a few people in line. I’m not exactly sure how to operate them but it’s worth a try. I get in line behind a good-looking, well-dressed man and try to watch how he goes through the process. It looks easy enough. When it’s my turn, I’m done in a matter of minutes. As soon as the machine prints out my boarding pass, I grab my duffel bag and head for the security check point. 

     If I
wasn’t in such a hurry and feeling stressed, the security checkpoint would be quite comical; everyone removing their shoes, emptying pockets, and going through the metal detector, we look like a bunch of cattle being herded from one spot to the next. The line is moving rather quickly; it starts as one and then splits into three lines. As I approach the X-ray machine, I remove my shoes, throw them, along with my backpack, in a plastic tub and place it on the conveyor. I go through the metal detector without a problem, and then I’m detained at the end of the x-ray machine as they ask me to open my bag for inspection. Apparently, something looked suspicious going through. I open the bag and they pull out a bottle of perfume I had put in there. They inform me that I can’t take the perfume on the plane.  “Why not? It’s only perfume!” 

     “Anything liquid must be less than three ounces or it’
s not allowed as a carry-on, there are strict regulations against such items. There is a posting at the beginning of the line,” the TSA agent informs me.

     “Sorry, I’m in a hurry and didn’t take the time to read the posting. Feel free to throw the perfume in the garbage, but I REALLY need to get to my gate before my plane is ready to take off,” I beg.

     “Well, you know the airlines recommend you arrive at the airport two hours before your planes departure time, assuring you enough time to go through the departure process,” he states brusquely.

     “Under normal circumstances I would have, but today hasn’t been a normal day,” I explain apprehensively.

     “You’re free to go, I hope you enjoy your flight and your day gets better,” he smiles handing me my backpack.

     Once free from the security area I check my boarding pass. I’ll be taking off from gate number C18 flight 361, Milwaukee to Orlando. I think to myself gate eighteen can’t be too far and start speed walking down the concourse. Courtney told me they had to fly me into Orlando instead of Daytona because otherwise I would have had to depart out of Madison. They knew there was no way I would be able to get to Madison, a two-hour drive, with my car not running.

      I see gate eighteen on the left and can hear announcements over the loudspeaker. They are letting certain sections board at this time. I check my ticket and realize I’m in row three with a window seat.  I approach the counter and ask the woman at the desk if they’ve called row three yet and she says, “Why yes honey, just get in that line, and show your ticket to the attendant.”

     “Thank you ma’am,” I excitedly say, realizing that I’m going to make this flight after all. As I walk onto the ramp to enter the airplane, I feel as though a tremendous weight
has been lifted off my shoulders. I’ll finally be able to do as I please and no longer live in fear of pissing Dylan off and the repercussions that entails. I feel sorry for the next unsuspecting victim he preys upon.

     I quickly find row three, my seat and the middle seat is empty.  Could I be so lucky as to not have anyone sitting next to me? A little, gray-haired woman probably in her mid-seventies, occupies the third outer seat. She sees me stowing my backpack in the overhead storage area and gets up to let me pass by and take my seat. She gives me a glance and a warm smile. “My name is Betty; I’m on my way to see my eight grandchildren in Orlando. Are you going on vacation? Meeting someone special? Relocating for a job?” she inquires.

     Geez, enough with the questions already, lady.
I give her a pleasant smile back and simply respond, “My name is Kylie, and I’m relocating to Daytona. I’ll be moving in with my best friend and hope I like it there enough to make it my new home.”

     “Well honey, you’re young and beautiful, you should be spending your days on the beach and enjoying life while you can. Before you know it, you will be my age. I like to visit but just can’t take the heat during the summer months,” she explains then opens a book by Nora Roberts.

     Good, I hope she reads the whole way.
She seems nice enough but I’m just not in the mood to make small talk today. Just as I pull out my magazine to start reading, I feel the vibration of the plane’s engines firing up. One flight attendant is working on shutting the door, while the other one is getting ready to do her safety demonstration with the oxygen masks. I’ve seen this demonstration so many times but I still crack up at their gestures while they’re doing it. The captain comes on the microphone and announces, “We are about to begin taxing down the runway, please make sure your seatbelts are fastened, once we get clearance from the traffic tower we will be taking off. From everyone at AirTran, we hope you enjoy your flight with us today.”

     The flight attendants begin their demonstration and out the window, I can see them removing the blocks from in front of the tires. They begin to push the airplane back to align with the runway, and the flight attendants finish up with the demonstration and take their seats at the rear of the plane. We sit for what feels like forever, but it’s only minutes before the plane starts to move forward. Our speed increases at a rapid rate and everything outside my window becomes a blur, and then I feel that moment of uncertainty as the plane lifts off the ground. “Goodbye Milwaukee, good bye you fucking bastard,” I mumble under my breath.

     The plane starts to level off and the captain comes back on the intercom. “We want to thank you once again for flying with AirTran, in just a few moments the seat belt lights will go out and you will be able to move about the cabin. We will be cruising at an altitude of thirty thousand feet and our flight time is estimated at two hours and thirty minutes, with this tail wind, we expect to arrive a little ahead of schedule. The current temperature in Orlando is seventy-five degrees and is expected to reach a high of ninety-two with no rain in today’s forecast. In about a half hour, the flight attendants will be making their way down the aisle with drinks and snacks. Hope you enjoy the remainder of your flight.”

     I settle back in my seat, wishing these airplanes had more legroom to stretch and get comfortable. I read my magazine for a while, but can’t concentrate on reading; my mind keeps wandering to thoughts of Cameron. I can’t help wondering what he looks like today. When he moved away, he was already starting to get quite tall and fill out. His voice was getting much deeper and I noticed most of the girls in school would stop what they were doing when he would walk by just to admire his good looks. He was kind and respectful, always putting others before himself. I hope life has been good to him and he hasn’t changed too much. I was going to ask Courtney to send a picture of him, but again didn’t want to send up any red flags. I guess I really didn’t want to know what he looks like, that would ruin my fantasies. In my mind, he’s the ultimate sexy Adonis type, tall, dark, and handsome.

    Courtney has told me that Cameron has been racing cars since high school, starting out on some of the local small tracks and coming up the ranks. He has set his sights on becoming a sprint car driver for NASCAR and has been going through rigorous training, on not only the racetrack but also working out at the gym. Sponsors look for well-toned people, someone in good physical condition that can endure the physical demands of being in a cramped racecar, with temperatures sometimes reaching a hundred and twenty degrees. When he was in high school, his dad took him too many races at Daytona Speedway, so he could meet and talk with the drivers in the pit area. They all told him the same thing, before racing, comes education. The sponsors want someone who will be able to speak intelligently in front of an audience. It’s the sponsor’s reputation on the line. Cameron completed his bachelor’s degree in business at Daytona State College, and is now pursuing his racing career.

    I never knew racing was such a huge industry and so hard to get started
in. I just thought you either had the raw talent and guts for racing or you didn’t. Courtney told me that he was flying to Alabama on the same day I was arriving, so it would be a few days before I would get to see him again. He has a big trial run in front of numerous sponsors at the Talladega racetrack. He’s hoping this is going to be his big break and someone will decide to give him a chance. He is currently working a part time job while waiting for sponsorship and told Courtney if he doesn’t get sponsorship this time, he may have to give up his dream and find a real job. Courtney never did say what he does part time; I’ll have to ask her when I get there.

     After the whole conversation I had with Courtney regarding Cameron’s upcoming profession, all I could think about was the fact that racecar drivers are attractive and thrilling. You always see them at the end of the race with champagne spraying all around them and beautiful woman hanging on their arms. That night I imagined being there with him when he won his first race. During the after race frenzy, he pushed me against his racecar, and gave me a very indecent kiss for the whole world to see on TV. I’ve thought about what it would be like to peel his racing suit off after a race and enjoying a nice long shower with him, sensually rubbing his aching muscles while admiring the sight of the soapy water running down his rock hard body. Then him taking me to bed and making love to me the entire night to celebrate his first win.

    I have spent so many nights wondering what kind of lover Cameron would be. Would he be the type of man that’s only out for his own satisfaction, or would he be the kind of lover that takes his time and makes sure the woman is completely satisfied before fulfilling his own needs? In my fantasies, he’s the slow lover taking time to adore every part of my body.