Текст книги "At Last"
Автор книги: Whitney Gracia Williams
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 15 страниц)
“In fucking Pittsburgh! Where she and Ryan belong! What the fuck is this, Jonathan? Both of them? Here? I see them in the same week?”
He looked into my eyes and it looked as if he was about to speak, but he pulled me into his arms and held me close.
“I don’t want to lie to you, but it still makes me sick...” My voice cracked. “I can’t stomach either of them. I just can’t do it...I’m really happy now and I...I don’t want them anywhere around my happiness... I don’t like knowing that they still exist.” I kept shaking my head, but I didn’t allow a single tear to fall. I wouldn’t dare.
I’d let myself come this far and I didn’t want to go back. Ever.
“Can we make the invitation designer meet us later in the week?” I looked up at him. “I just want to be at home with you for the rest of the day.”
“Of course.” He walked me over to the car and helped me inside. Before he joined me, I heard him say something to Greg: “There’s a catering business in Pittsburgh called Stella’s. Find a way to fly the director and her team here this weekend so we can talk to them.”
Chapter 4
Jonathan
I looked over the confirmation files for our honeymoon trip, double checking each flight’s time and each pilot’s flight history. Claire was a lot more comfortable with flying now, but whenever we didn’t use my personal pilot, she insisted on having a copy of the new pilot’s safety record before stepping onboard.
She’d been asking me where we were going after our wedding everyday—even attempting to withhold sex to get it out of me, but I wanted everything to be a surprise. I wanted her to love every single second of our trip.
“Everything looks great.” I nodded at Hayley. “Thank you very much. Make sure Claire gets a copy of these pilot records in the next few weeks.”
“Will do, and you’re welcome.” She took the papers and placed them into her folder. “You know, I honestly never thought that you would get married.”
“Why not?”
“I did come live with you once you started building this company, remember? Before I got smart and went away for college...There were a lot of women in and out of that condo...”
“No, there weren’t.” I sighed. “I never brought any woman near you and you know that.”
“I didn’t see them, but I found all their panties underneath the couch cushions—the little mementos they left behind so you could remember how amazing the night was. They even left little notes on the inside tags—‘Last night was the best night of my life,’ ‘You’re the best fuck I’ve ever had,’ and my personal favorite—Oohhh call me anytime, Jonathan. I’ll drop whatever I’m doing if it means I get to fuck you again.”
“Get out of my office, Hayley.”
She laughed. “I looked through the Berkstrom account earlier. I don’t think we should sign with them, but the board thinks differently so make sure you read over everything tonight. There’s also a meeting with the accounting division at three to discuss new ways to track executive spending, and oh yeah—you need to make sure you have that buyout file for your international call in a few hours.”
“Angela briefed me on all of this hours ago because you weren’t here on time today. For the fourth day in a row. Care to explain why?”
“I can be late.”
“You can be unemployed.”
She rolled her eyes. “Are you this strict with Ashley and Caroline? Do they get the overprotective treatment too?”
“You’re avoiding my question.”
“I am.” She smiled and flipped her blond hair over her shoulder. “I’m also thinking about putting in a complaint to HR about the CEO being excessively hard on me, so watch it.”
“Can you at least make sure you’re on time for your dress fitting next week? Claire stresses out about anything wedding-related if it’s more than a second late.”
“I’ll be there early. I still can’t believe she asked me to be a bridesmaid! I am so honored to give you and your craziness away to someone else. Does she even know how crazy you are yet? Have you shown her your true colors or are you saving them for later?”
“Hayley...”
“Mr. Statham?” Angela’s voice came over the intercom.
“Yes?”
“One of your security advisors is here sir. He says it’s urgent. Should I tell him to wait until you’re done meeting with Hayley?”
“No.” I shook my head. “We’re more than done here. Send him in please. Oh and Angela?”
“Yes, Mr. Statham?”
“On little Miss Statham’s way out, could you please hand her the employee policy on tardiness and order her a Cartier watch—with the biggest numbers available please? Have it shipped overnight.”
“Yes sir.”
Hayley narrowed her eyes at me and pursed her lips. “You are the worst.”
“I love you too.”
I watched as she rushed out of my office, as she nearly collided with my second highest security chief—Clive.
“Where’s Greg?” I motioned for him to sit in front of my desk.
“He’s training a new member today. Would you like me to bring him up instead?”
“No, that’s okay. What’s going on?”
He removed a small brown box from the inside of his jacket and handed it to me. “We found this outside of Miss Gracen’s store this morning.”
“Mail?”
“No. It was found at six a.m. There’s no return address and mail doesn’t run overnight. We believe the small red initials of “R.H.” belong to Mr. Hayes, the man we’ve been keeping tabs on.”
“Have you found any new information?”
“No, but he knows we’re tailing him so he’s giving us the run-around. We do have a reservation at an executive condo building in his firm’s name though. I’ve seen him go inside a few times, but he never spends the night. It’s always in and out. He’s still paying the mortgage on a house in Pittsburgh, so we assume his visit here is temporary.”
“Thank you, Clive.”
“My pleasure, Mr. Statham. I’ll let you know the moment we find anything else.”
I nodded and waited until he left my office. I immediately let Angela know that I didn’t want to be bothered for the next thirty minutes.
I stared at the small brown box that was sitting in front of me, wondering why the fuck Ryan would attempt to give Claire anything, and then I ripped it open: A picture. And a letter.
The picture was a faded one of Claire, Ryan, and Amanda. It had to have been at least ten years old because they were all dressed in outdated clothing. One of Ryan’s arms was around each of them, and they were all smiling widely and holding their thumbs up.
At the bottom of the picture he’d written, “Remember this?”
Irritated, I unfolded the letter and read:
Dear Claire,
I’m sorry for showing up to your store unannounced last week, but I knew that if I contacted you in advance you wouldn’t agree to see me. It’s the same reason why I didn’t tell Ashley and Caroline about me moving here six months ago, why I told them we’d have to reschedule our last visit until this winter. (I know that even though they love us both equally, their loyalty lies with you.)
Like I said before, I really need to talk to you. Alone. One on one. It’s something I’d rather not put in a letter or say over the phone so I would appreciate it if you could just remember how things used to be between us—for just five minutes. If you could just remember how we used to be able to tell each other any and everything...I would really appreciate your time. I know deep down you still have some form of love for me.
Your first,
Ryan
I reread those last lines—“I know deep down you still have some form of love for me,” and “Your first”– and tried my hardest not to pick up the phone and put a hit out on this man’s life. My blood was heating to levels I never knew existed and I was seconds away from exploding.
I picked up my phone and called Greg.
“Mr. Statham,” he answered.
“Please tell me you know exactly where Claire’s ex-husband lives and you’re just keeping it away from me so I won’t murder him.”
“I do know sir.”
I thought so... “Do you know why he’s in town?”
“We’re still trying to figure that out. I will make you aware when I know. Is that all?”
“No. I want all of Claire’s mail screened from now on. Nothing from Ryan Hayes, R.H., or anything without a return address gets into her mailbox. And I want you to give all of those things to me so I can personally get rid of them.”
“Mail tampering is a federal crime, Mr. Statham.”
“I don’t give a fuck. Do it.” I hung up and glanced at Ryan’s letter one last time before stuffing it down my shredder.
I’m going to kill him...
My alarm for today’s board meeting started going off, but I was too lost to reach into my pocket and turn it off.
I sat still at my desk—stunned. Angry. Annoyed. I couldn’t believe her ex-husband’s nerve after all this time, couldn’t believe he would even attempt to contact Claire—my Claire.
I was about to cancel all my meetings for the day and go down to Corey’s office to do another round of investigating, but the special ringtone I had for Claire began to sound.
I pulled out my phone and read her text message: “I still can’t believe that you send me flowers EVERY. SINGLE. DAY! You are completely over the top, but I enjoy every second of it. The bouquets you sent today are absolutely amazing and I LOVE them. I love you so much, Jonathan...Your last, Claire. :-)”
And just like that, my blood temperature began to cool and the ache in my chest slowly gave way.
I’ll deal with Ryan later...
“How about this one?” Corey held a mannequin’s hand in front of me, slowly waving it so I could see how the diamonds sparkled in the light.
We were standing in the only jewelry store I trusted—Valenti’s, and the store owner had shut it down so I could shop for Claire’s wedding band in private.
I slipped the ring off the plastic finger and held it in front of my face, shaking my head. “Claire wouldn’t like it.”
“Any woman would appreciate a band with rare pink diamonds—any woman. Trust me, I’ve been with enough of them to know.” He smiled.
“Speaking of any woman, didn’t you mention a threesome recently? It was with two actresses, right? You never told me if it worked in your favor or not.”
“Couldn’t do it...” He shrugged. “Wait a minute. Why are you getting Claire another diamond ring? Her engagement ring is already eighteen carats. Isn’t that enough?”
“I want to do something special for her since she’s doing something special with mine.”
“Right.” He rolled his eyes. “I should’ve known that you would end up proposing. You were a goner the minute you told me about her.”
“That’s not true.”
“Of course it isn’t. You’ve always called me at one o’ clock in the morning to tell me about some random woman you saw at a party, some woman you’ve never even spoken to. And you’ve always made me track her down four hours later.”
“It was six hours later.”
“That makes it far less stalkerish doesn’t it?” He pulled out his phone. “When exactly is the wedding? I need to make sure I don’t make any plans that week.”
“We haven’t set the date yet.” I spotted two diamond bands in the case that spoke to me; separately they were appealing, but together they could be stunning.
As if he’d read my mind, he picked up the two rings and placed them on another mannequin’s finger. “You’re getting married in less than three months and you haven’t set the date yet? You had the IPO ball planned six months in advance and you didn’t even want to go.”
“We’re meeting with the wedding planner next week.”
He raised his eyebrow but he didn’t say anything.
“Is everything alright, Mr. Statham? Mr. Walters?” The store owner walked over to us. “Have you found something that you like?”
I slid the plastic hand across the counter. “I want the ring to be a mix of these two designs—not welded together though, it’ll be too thick. And I want the same engravings that we discussed before.”
“Of course, Mr. Statham. This should be easy.”
“Shit, I’ve got to go...” Corey’s eyes widened as he looked at his phone and started walking backwards. “Firewall breach for the second time today. I’ll call you later.”
I watched as the guards let him out of the store before refocusing my attention on the rings.
“What were you saying, Miss Valenti?”
“That this should be an easy fix, but it’s going to take me at least two to three weeks to perfect it—That’s a lot of tiny diamonds and they need time to set. But as usual, your engraved messages to Claire make me cry.” She smiled. “She’s very lucky to have you.”
“Since you’re designing my ring with her, will my band match hers?”
She raised her eyebrow. “What?”
“Will my band match hers?”
She slid her glasses down from her forehead and pulled out her sTablet, scrolling down the screen. “It might match yours, but since she hasn’t asked me to design it...I’m not sure.”
What? “She didn’t book a session with you?”
She shook her head and showed me the tablet. “You’re my best customer. I always push your appointments to the top of the list. My staff knows that Miss Gracen is to receive the same treatment. She’s never called me. Ever.”
I narrowed my eyes at the screen—hoping that her vision was the problem and that Claire had indeed scheduled an appointment like she promised to, but there was nothing there. All the purchases and appointments were things I’d made: the Harry Winston bracelet, the anchor necklace, the vintage charm necklace and matching ring, the engagement ring, various things for Caroline and Ashley, and now this—her wedding band.
“She may be using someone else, Mr. Statham.” She offered.
She doesn’t ‘know’ anyone else...
“Right. Well, thank you very much. It’s a pleasure doing business with you as always. Do I need to pay for this now?”
“No. I think you’re good for it.” She winked and walked over to my side of the counter, leading me to the door. “I’ll do all the work on this one personally and call you for a follow up appointment to make sure you like it. I’m looking forward to your wedding.”
I asked her a few questions about her life—how her kids were doing, if any of the colleagues I’d referred had stopped by, and then I shook her hand and promised to personally deliver her an invitation.
As soon as I stepped outside, the valet brought my car around and I handed him whatever bills were left in my wallet. I was too out of it to count or care.
I sat behind the wheel and stared straight ahead.
Why didn’t Claire make the ring appointment? What the hell is going on with her? Did she even book our meeting with the wedding planner?!
I scrolled through my phone and called the number she’d given me for the wedding planning firm.
“Dream Wedding Associates,” a woman answered. “This is Charlotte speaking. How may I help you today?”
“I need to speak to the director right now.”
“Um...” She paused. “Well, she’s currently busy at the moment, but if you give me your name I can have her get back to you.”
“Jonathan Statham.”
She gasped. “I’m sorry, Mr. Statham. I’ll connect you right away.”
The phone rang two times before a woman with a high pitched voice answered. “This is Miss Corwin. Who am I speaking to this afternoon?”
“Jonathan Statham.”
“Oh! Mr. Statham!” Her pitch rose even higher. “I am so excited and honored that you chose me to coordinate your wedding! I promise that it will be the wedding of the year! It’s going to be the best one I’ve ever done!”
“So my fiancée has booked an appointment with you?”
“Of course she has.” She sounded confused. “I’m scheduled to meet with the both of you...” There were papers rattling the background. “Next Thursday at six. She told me how you feel about the tiny details, so she and I are going to meet Friday to go over those alone. But all the bones—colors, location, date, et cetera—will be discussed Thursday. I am so excited! I can’t wait!”
“Me either.” I narrowed my eyes at the picture Ryan had sent to Claire earlier—the picture I’d left on my dashboard. “As a matter of fact, I need to ask you a few more questions...”
Chapter 5
Claire
Across and forward...Backwards and across...Across and forward...
I weaved my needle through the lampshade, trying to make the stitches as neat as possible. I’d been locked inside my office all day, sewing order after order.
Since one of my handmade lampshades had been featured in a national magazine last week, I’d had to hire three more people to fill all the incoming requests. I’d even considered shutting down the store for a couple days to finish, but all my staff members offered to stay late and help.
“Miss Gracen?” Rita’s voice came over the intercom. “Lisa and Sam are heading home for the day and your fiancée is on line one.”
“Thank you.” I picked up the phone. “Yes, Jonathan?”
“Come home.”
“I will, right after this last piece. I only have twelve more patches to sew.”
“It’s eight o’ clock, Claire. Come home now.”
I sighed. “You can’t give me fifteen more minutes?”
“No. Now.” He hung up.
I rolled my eyes and picked up my needle again, sticking it through the bottom. I’d accidentally used the wrong fabric earlier and I needed to finish it for a customer pick-up tomorrow.
I’ll explain it to him later...
When I was halfway done, there was a light knock at my door.
“Come in,” I said, still focused on my project.
“Miss Gracen.” Greg’s deep voice made me look up. “Mr. Statham is adamant about me bringing you home right now.”
“Is something wrong?”
“He just wants you home.” He held the door open and gestured for me to stand up. “Non-negotiable.”
Sighing, I called Rita to thank her for staying so late. Then I grabbed my blazer and walked out front—tossing the store’s keys to her on my way out.
Greg opened the backdoor of the town car and waited until I was comfortable before pulling off.
“Greg?” I cleared my throat.
“Yes, Miss Gracen?” He looked at me through the rearview mirror.
“How long have you been working for Jonathan?”
“Since he first started his company.”
“Did he treat all his girlfriends like this? Make them drop whatever they were doing just because he wanted to see them?”
“No.” He shook his head.
“But you chauffeured them around too, right? Those few serious girlfriends that he had?”
“Miss Gracen...”
“I’m just trying to make conversation to get my mind off the fact that he just demanded that I come home. That’s all.”
“Of course.” He pulled the car onto the highway ramp and turned the music up a notch.
“Are you going to answer my question, Greg?”
He sighed. “Mr. Statham has never asked me to chauffeur any of his other girlfriends.”
What? “How did they get around when they went on dates?”
“He drove his own car to pick them up.”
“Did he take them on his yachts?”
“Miss Gracen...” He kept his voice firm. “I can remember a few random dates on his yacht from years past, but to the best of my knowledge you are the only woman who has been on all of his yachts. With the exception of his sister and your daughters, you are the only woman who has flown on his private plane and you are, without a doubt, the only woman who I have personally chauffeured around. You are also the only woman he’s ever shown his real home. Now, if you don’t mind, I would prefer not to talk about my employer.”
I nodded and sat back in the seat, completely speechless.
All this time that we’d been together I’d always thought he’d shown his softer side to someone else. Knowing that he hadn’t made me feel even more special.
As the town car rolled past the right exit to take me home, I tapped Greg on the shoulder. “I thought you were taking me home?”
“Mr. Statham called me a few minutes ago. He wants me to bring you to the airstrip instead.”
“He’s flying me somewhere? On short notice?”
“He didn’t say anything further, Miss Gracen.”
Half an hour later, the town car cruised into the private jetport and stopped a few hundred feet in front of Jonathan and his plane.
There were twenty people standing around him—his crew, a few of his top accountants, and a couple of people I’d never seen before. He was pacing in front of them, shaking his head in anger, giving orders of some type.
Greg opened my door and reached for my hand, whispering a warning. “Something’s been bothering him all day...”
I nodded and watched as Jonathan continued to yell at his employees, something about “This is unacceptable,” and “Why am I just now finding out about this today?!”
I tried to step backwards and slip back inside the town car, but he looked over his shoulder and his blue eyes met mine.
He immediately stopped talking and stared at me, looking me up and down. He strolled over to where I was standing and pulled me into his arms.
Before I could say ‘Hello,’ he pressed his lips against mine and slipped his tongue into my mouth—kissing me until I couldn’t breathe.
“Why do you have such a hard time coming home at six?” he whispered harshly. “We’ve discussed this too many times...”
“I guess I keep forgetting that I have a curfew.”
“It’s an agreement.”
“You should’ve gotten it in writing.”
A faint smile played on his lips and he leaned forward and kissed me again—more passionately this time. He caressed my back with his hands and slipped his tongue deeper and deeper into my mouth.
I opened my eyes and realized that the twenty or so people that were behind us were now staring in our direction, whispering to one another.
I pulled away from him, blushing. “You can’t kiss me like that in front of your staff...”
“I can kiss you however I want.” He clasped my hand and walked me over to his team. “I need three advisors, one executive, and one intern. Takeoff in five minutes.”
He mumbled something under his breath as he led me over to the plane. As usual, he looked into my eyes for what felt like forever before helping me onboard. He motioned for me to take a seat first and then he sat down next to me.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
He didn’t answer. “Could you tell my team to hurry up and decide who’s coming with us?” He shook his head at the flight attendant.
Within minutes, a few of his staff members filed into the cabin.
“Are you going to answer my question, Jonathan?”
“No. Put on your seatbelt.”
I blinked and he rolled his eyes, reaching over my lap to do it himself.
I tried to read his expression so I could see what he was thinking, but he was perfectly stoic.
“Mr. Statham,” the flight attendant said as she looked at me—not him. “The pilot is asking if you would like for us to wait a few minutes for takeoff or...”
He cupped my face in his hands. “Are you feeling okay?”
I nodded.
“We can take off.” He clasped my hand.
I shut my eyes as the flight attendant reminded his staff to fasten their seatbelts, as the plane roared to life and slowly moved down the tarmac. As we ascended into the air, I felt Jonathan squeezing my hand and kissing my cheek.
I kept my eyes closed until I heard the familiar ping that signified that we were free to move about the cabin, until I heard the pilot’s voice over the intercom: “We’re all clear now, Miss Gracen.”
I looked behind our seats and noticed that all of his associates were busy typing away on their screens—completely preoccupied by whatever they were doing.
“Jonathan...” I was honestly worried. “What’s going on? Tell me.”
He unbuckled my seat belt and pulled me up. “We need to talk. Now.” He tugged me down the aisle and into the plane’s luxury bathroom.
Locking the door, he pulled me flush against his chest and removed something from his pocket.
“What is this?” He held a picture of me, Ryan, and Amanda in between us.
“Where did you get this?”
“One of my security guards found it outside your office this morning. It was with a letter—in a box from Ryan.”
“Your security guards check my mail?”
“As of today, yes. Where is this picture from?”
“Can we discuss the mail tampering issue first?”
“Claire...”
“It’s from our first high school reunion.”
“I thought you said you never went to one.”
“I went to the first one, the one that was in Pittsburgh.” I trailed my fingers around the loosely fitted black dress I was wearing in the photograph, around the pretty gold bracelet that matched the one Amanda was wearing. I cringed as I read Ryan’s “Remember this?” note.
“It doesn’t mean anything to you?” He tilted my chin up.
“No.” I shook my head. “It’s actually quite ironic that he would send this picture because I do remember this. I remember it very well...” I paused. “They passed out these crystallized awards for the people who won superlatives in the senior yearbook...Ryan and I got Cutest Couple and Couple Most Likely to Get Married, and me and Amanda got Most Likely to Be Best Friends Forever...”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s in the past.” I shrugged. “Where’s the letter?”
“You think I saved that shit for you to read?”
“Of course not...” I rolled my eyes. “Now, about you tampering with my mail.”
“What about it?”
“Well one, its illegal. Two, Ryan’s not a threat.”
“He is when he wants something that’s mine.”
“I don’t think that’s the case. I just think he has something to say but I honestly don’t care what it is.”
“You shouldn’t.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “You shouldn’t care about him at all.”
“I don’t...”
Silence.
He slid his thumb underneath the anchor charm of my necklace and spoke slowly. “You’re not his anymore, and I’m going to do whatever it takes to keep him far away from you because—” He pressed a warm kiss against my chest. “You belong to me.”
I was silent.
“Do you have a problem with that?”
“No...”
“If he happens to slip past my security...” He looked into my eyes and slipped his hands around my waist. “Or if he comes into your store again—or anywhere around you when I’m not there...You need to call me. ASAP.”
I nodded and he drew my bottom lip into his mouth, harshly trapping it between his teeth for several seconds before letting it go.
“Tell me you’ll call me.”
“Yes, I’ll...Call you...”
“I don’t share...” He traced my lips with his fingertips. “And I never will. Never.”
I wasn’t sure what to say or how to respond when he looked at me like this. I simply stared into his deep blue eyes and felt my heart beating an entirely new rhythm.
“Was that...Was that all we had to talk about?” I stepped to my left and reached over to press the door handle, but he grabbed my hand and pushed me against the wall.
“No. That’s not it.” He reached down and pulled the silver clip I was wearing out of my hair. He brushed his thumb across my cheek and murmured something I didn’t understand.
Just as I was about to ask him to repeat himself, the jet began to shake back and forth, and I instinctively clung to him and shut my eyes, bracing for the worst.
“It’s just turbulence, Claire,” he whispered. But the plane was shaking more violently so I clung to him even more—digging my nails into his neck.
The rough rattling continued and I heard the shuddering of the small cabinets next to me, heard the series of loud pings that meant we were supposed to be in our seats with our seatbelts buckled.
I won’t feel anything if we crash...I won’t feel a thing...
I took several short breaths and lowered Jonathan’s head to mine. “I love you...”
I wasn’t sure how long I clung to him, but after I silently said all my goodbyes to everyone else I loved, I noticed that the shaking had stopped and Jonathan’s arms were tightly locked around me.
There was another light ping, but just to be sure, I counted to sixty before opening my eyes. When my gaze met Jonathan’s I realized that he was smiling at me with his eyebrow raised.
“I’m glad you think that was funny.” I rolled my eyes and pushed him away, reaching for the door. “I’m bursting with laughter myself.”
“Stop.” He blocked me and hit a few digits on a keypad, effectively locking us inside. Then he lowered his mouth to mine. “I wasn’t laughing at you, Claire. I was just staring at you because you look really fucking beautiful today...”
He hesitated, looking as if he wanted to say something more, but he crushed his lips onto mine and pinned me against the door.
I moaned as he took his time kissing me, running his fingers through every inch of my hair. I didn’t even close my eyes to savor the feeling.
I couldn’t.
He was commanding me to keep them open, giving me a look that said he was about to fuck me senseless.
Without breaking our kiss, he slid the straps of my dress down my shoulders and pushed it down, letting it fall to the floor.
I slipped my hands to his pants, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly—feeling how hard his dick was already. I was starting to unbutton his jacket, but he grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head.
He trailed his tongue across my collarbone and in between my breasts, using his teeth to unfasten the latch at the front. When he finally got it open, he swirled the tip of his tongue around both of my nipples, biting down on each one until I murmured his name.
Tilting my head back, he pressed kisses up and down my throat and slowly released my hands. He slipped his thumb underneath the band of my panties and slowly ripped them off.
I gasped as he hooked one of my legs around his waist, as he slowly pushed his dick inside of me and commanded that I wrap my other leg around him.
“Jonath—”
“Shhh...” He placed my arms around his neck and pressed a light kiss against my forehead.
I bit my lip as he cupped my ass and started to slowly move me up and down. He pressed my back against the wall and slid his hands underneath my thighs, gripping me roughly as he began to pound into me.
There was no talking between us—just the sound of heavy breathing and our skin slapping against each other.
The plane shook again and I tightened my arms around his neck as he sped up our rhythm. I tried not to cry out, but I couldn’t help it.
“Jonathan...”
He drew both of my lips into his mouth and held them captive with his teeth, continuing to drive himself in and out of me.
I was murmuring into his mouth, begging him to release my lips, but he bit down on them even harder.
I squeezed my thighs around him as tremors started to make their way through my body, as I felt myself getting closer and closer to an orgasm.
Fuck...
He stared into my eyes—silently saying ‘I love you,’ and we exploded together—clinging to each other as our bodies shook violently, as the plane made a noticeable turn in the skies.
He let my lips go and panted. “I love you so fucking much, Claire...so fucking much...” He kissed my face over and over again and I breathlessly told him that I loved him too.
He looked into my eyes for a long time, caressing my cheek with his palm. As soon as my breathing was normal again, he took a step back—with our bodies still entwined, and sat down on the small window bench.
