“Not true. You would’ve been fine because you’re the strongest person I know.”
I snort.
“You are! You’ve handled all this crap like a champ. I would’ve just drowned myself in expensive champagne and waited for someone to fix it all. I couldn’t have kept going like you have. You’re kinda my hero.”
I toss a pillow at her and it hits her square in the face. “Shut it,” I laugh.
“If I ever see Grant again, I’ll take my heel off and stab him through the heart. Best friend’s honor.” She presses her lips against two fingers and holds them up in the air in some sign of solidarity.
I laugh. “Twist it while it’s in there.”
“Done.”
“I just wish I could go back and not let him go to Africa the first time. Whatever happened to him over there just changed his life and mine. Things would be so different if he hadn’t gone, you know?”
This deep desire has rolled around in my head too many times to count, but those times are when I’m alone and often late at night, when the only thing around to judge your thoughts is the darkness. But I’ve never actually said this out loud, in the open, and something about releasing it into the world is cathartic.
Presley rests her head on my shoulder. “I think you’ll always miss what could’ve been. That’s pretty normal for a first love. I mean, I haven’t been with Shane for two years and I still miss him.”
“But would you jump back at the chance if he came back now? If he showed up at the door today, would you just run off into the sunset with him?”
“I don’t know. Honestly, probably not. I think I’ve changed from the person I used to be. I was so needy then, you know? And that’s probably why he took off. But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss him or think about what our life would’ve been like if we hadn’t split up.”
“I don’t want Grant back. He cheated on me and I really think he had something to do with Brady. But he was the love of my life. I had our entire future planned out. We talked about it—the things we would do together. The places we’d go, the house we would build somewhere. I need to bleach my mind of those things.”
“No, you need to replace them with new ideas and visions. And I’m not saying you’re going to do that this week with Fenton, but I’d try bleach in the form of him.”
My mind wanders to Fenton and his hands on me, his mouth on me elsewhere. I’m pretty sure those images could dampen, if not black out, a lot of old memories.
When I look at Presley again, she bursts out in laughter.
“That smile says it all,” she quips, putting her arm around my shoulder. “I have a feeling you’re going to be smiling a lot in the coming days, my little Brynnie.”
A niggle of excitement flutters through me, replacing the melancholy from before. “I hope so, Pres. I hope so.”
“I’m gonna be sick.”
“It’s just your new birth control shot,” Presley contends. “Those things always make me nauseous. Just relax.”
“No, I’m really going to be sick and it’s all nerves.” I grip the handles to my luggage and try to quell my anxiety as the airplane comes into view.
“You are not. Breathe,” Presley says, taking a deep inhale of her own and blowing it out. “Just like that. Follow my lead.”
“I don’t need Lamaze, you idiot,” I laugh.
“No, but you laughed, so it worked.” She slows to a stop. “I can’t go any farther. Go have fun, enjoy yourself, and call me at least five times a day.”
I giggle, setting my bags on the ground and pulling her into a hug. “I put all the hotel information on the bulletin board in the kitchen. If anything changes, I’ll text you.”
“I love ya.” She pulls away and takes a step back. “And you look like a boss.”
My skin is kissed with a fresh spray tan, my golden legs set off by a pair of white shorts. My top is a dark golden color, the fabric thin and cool despite the three-quarter sleeves. The heels on my feet match the color of my top. It’s an outfit Edie and Presley put together for me, and although I thought it was an odd match at first, I’m totally in love with it now.
Brushing a strand of my stick-straight strands out of my face, I can’t help but grin. “I do, don’t I?”
“You so do. Now go show the man what you got.”
“I love ya, Pres.”
“I know.” She blows me a kiss and walks through the double doors towards her car.
I roll my suitcase and pull my glasses over my eyes. The sun is bright as I make my way to the small jet in front of me. A man in a suit and tie is waiting for me at the ramp.
“Can I take your bags, Ms. Calloway?”
“Sure.” I take a satchel off my shoulder and set it beside my suitcase. “I’ll take this smaller one on with me, if that’s okay?”
“Absolutely. Go on inside,” he says. “Mr. Abbott is waiting for you. We’ll be taking off shortly.”
Nodding, I head up the stairs. My legs feel like jelly as I get closer to the entrance, the dark opening awaiting me with all of the answers to my anxieties. I pause midway up and look behind me and nearly march right back down. I know what’s behind me: safety, security, predictability. Everything ahead of me is the exact opposite, and the thought terrifies me.
“Miss?”
I spin around to see a woman with ruby red lips hovering in the door way. Taking a gulp of smoggy air, nearly choking to death, I make it up the remaining steps and into the chilly cabin.
“Ms. Calloway, welcome aboard,” she says.
“Thank you.” My hand trembles as I extend it. She shakes it warmly.
“Mr. Abbott is in there,” she nods to my right. “My name is Suzie. Please let me know if you need anything at all.”
She goes through an opening to the cockpit and I’m left standing. A part of me wants to flee, to run back to Presley’s car and just go to the safety of home. Before I can, Fenton comes into sight. Our eyes lock and he stops in his tracks.
“Welcome aboard.” He takes a few steps until he’s standing directly in front of me. His cologne washes over me, tempting me with its mixture of soap and a hint of spiciness. It’s the human equivalent of crystal meth, completely addictive. The scent alone would make me wet, but combined with the sound of his voice, the look on his face—the promise of what’s to come—I’m nearly combusting standing in front of him.
“Are you okay?” he asks. He takes my bag, his fingertips brushing my skin, setting it on fire. A gasp parts my lips at the contact, a shaky intake of breath that I know he hears because he allows his fingers to linger a touch longer than necessary. When I look at his face, he’s smirking. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Thank you,” I blush.
Fenton takes a step away, turning his back to me, and I can gawk unabashedly for the first time. He’s wearing a pair of ultra-dark denim jeans with pristine white Adidas. A heather grey Polo shirt stretches across his broad shoulders. His dark hair appears to have been styled in some semblance at one point but now looks messy. And delicious.
He motions towards a set of large leather seats. “We’ll be taking off soon. Would you like a drink?”
I need a heavy shot of whiskey and chastise myself for not taking one before I left the house. “No, I’m fine.”
“Very well.” He takes a seat along the wall. I guess that he’d been sitting there before I came aboard because a briefcase and a tumbler of a honey-colored liquid sit beside it. I wonder vaguely if he’s nervous, too. “Would you like to sit?”
I force a swallow and head towards him. This was the part I wanted to avoid. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Sit next to him? Sit a couple seats down? Sit on his cock? Flushing at the last option, I take the seat to his left. Trying hard not to fidget and seem the nervous ball of energy I really am, I fasten my belt with clumsy hands.
The smoothness of his voice catches me off-guard. “I know I’ve asked this already, but are you okay?”
“Of course.”
“Look at me, Brynne.”
Pulling my gaze to his, I’m trapped as always. He pins me to my seat with only a look. I can’t breathe, the weight of his stare nearly unbearable. He searches my face for something—I’m not sure what—but he doesn’t seem to find it.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, a huskiness to his voice that goes right through me.
“Me too.”
“I want you to be.”
“I am. I promise.”
He opens his mouth to say something else when Suzie comes into the room. I jump at the sound of her voice.
“Mr. Abbott, we will be taking off momentarily. Do you need anything before we depart?”
“No. And if we need anything, I’ll call for you. Please don’t disturb us.”
She nods and disappears through the doorway.
The plane starts to move, the jets hissing as they fire to life. I don’t expect the calm that settles over me. There’s something about the decision being made, no option left but to ride out the next hour or so, that stills me. Taking a deep breath, I decide to make the best of it.
I look at Fenton. He’s looking at me.
“So . . .”
“Thank you for coming,” he says, taking the pressure off of me. “And can I say, you look beautiful?”
“That’s thanks to you. The clothes were entirely too much. I feel a little awkward about it, really.”
“Don’t. It was my pleasure.”
“Well, when you get the bill, you can blame it on Edie,” I laugh. “I would’ve gone to Target and been completely fine.”
He shakes his head. “Target doesn’t allow me the opportunity to treat you like I wanted to.”
“Thank you. It was very unnecessary, but I enjoyed it and I hope what I got is okay.”
“If what you’re wearing today is any indication, it’s more than okay. It’s perfect.”
Looking away, I try not to blush.
The plane begins its ascent and the roar of the engines is loud. Fenton whips out a file from his briefcase and gives it a once-over. Again, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. He’s going to work on this trip, but do I just ride along until he wants to give me attention? I have no idea and it’s killing me. I can’t ask him yet, anyway. It’s too loud. So I pull my Kindle out of my bag and try to become invested in a second-chance romance about a rock star, but it’s nearly impossible sitting next to him. Each time I become engrossed in the words, he moves and my senses are assaulted by his proximity. The third time this happens, I search the ebook for “cock” and start reading a sex scene. The anticipation, the build-up, of finally being alone with him is getting the best of me and I need some form of undoing. If that has to be done via fictional character, then so be it.
The heroine is taking the hero’s cock in her mouth when a low rumble radiates beside me. Startled, I look up and see Fenton smirking.
“What?” I push the power button on my e-reader and place it on my lap. I realize the jet has leveled off and it’s quiet in the cabin. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Just wondering what you’re reading.”
“Why?”
“Because,” he says, his eyes darkening, “Your entire posture changed. Your lips parted, your breathing became labored. I’m intrigued.”
“I don’t think you’d be interested in this.”
“Trust me—if it gets that kind of reaction out of you, I’m definitely interested.”
Dragging in a lungful of air, I remember Presley’s pep talk on the way here and decide I have nothing to lose.
I switch on the tablet and find the page. “She drew his cock into her mouth, stroking his shaft as she licked a pool of semen from the tip.” I glance over my shoulder and his eyes are wide. I wink. “A growl escaped his throat as she stroked his velvety shaft, running her tongue—”
“Enough.” He snatches the Kindle from my grasp and places it on his briefcase. “Fucking hell, Brynne. Do you want fucked right here?”
“Maybe?”
He shakes his head, his chest rising and falling in tempo with mine. A low growl sounds from his throat as his hands drag roughly down his face. He’s flustered, his knuckles turning white as he grips the arm rests.
I did this to him. I worked this man into a frenzy.
The longer it takes him to get himself together, the more heady the feeling becomes. It’s a powerful thing, knowing a man like him wants you. I want to keep reading, to force him to react, but I can’t because he’s taken the Kindle from me. Instead, I watch him turn to face me, his features wearing a determined look.
“We aren’t doing that here.” It’s a simple statement, one I’m not sure he’s one-hundred percent behind.
“Isn’t that what you brought me here for?”
He watches me out of the corner of his eye and chuckles, a low, cautionary ripple. “You have no idea. But I don’t want to do that in front of an audience, and believe it or not, there are a handful of people on board at the moment.”
I didn’t think of that. Or maybe I did and didn’t care. But after his admonishment, I realize how silly it would’ve been. I rest back in my seat and try to get a grip.
“And, for the record, that’s not the only reason I asked you to come.”
“Oh, really?”
“Really. Maybe we should talk about the next few days?” he asks.
“Yes,” I exhale. “That would be great, actually. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, or well, anything. It’s nerve-wracking.”
“I don’t want you feeling that way.” His eyes search mine. “I don’t want you to be nervous, Brynne. I want you to enjoy this trip and relax and have fun. So if anything bothers you or you feel awkward, please tell me. Promise you’ll tell me?”
I nod.
“All right. I have a lot of work to pack in to the next few days. I’ll be gone a lot and I might ask you to accompany me to a dinner or two. But I’ll give you notice if that’s the case. These trips just fluctuate and are hard to predict. When I’m gone, feel free to enjoy yourself. Whatever you need, any expenses you encounter, just charge them to our room and I’ll handle it.”
“I—”
“That wasn’t a question,” he grins. “It’s cut and dry. When I’m not working, I want you to be with me. If there’s a show you want to see or somewhere you want to eat, we can do that. But I do want you available to me completely at those times. Okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper. It shouldn’t seem as hot as it does to be at someone’s beck and call, but I can’t deny the heat singeing my veins. The look he’s flashing me is doing everything but actually penetrating me, and I need the release. Desperately.
He nods and stands. Having him out of reach frees up a roomful of oxygen and I fill my lungs with the precious air. I need to get us on a different topic, something with less of a direct line to my libido.
“What are you doing for work in Vegas?” I ask.
He eyes me warily. “A few different things.”
“Such as?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m spending a few days with you alone. What if your job is a mafia hitman?”
He grins. “Then you’re in more danger than you thought.”
I gulp. “I’m going to need you to deny that you aren’t one. Now. Thank you.”
His laughter fills the cabin, the cashmere back in full force. “I’m not a hitman. I’d venture to say you’re safer with me than with anyone you know.”
“That makes me feel better.”
“Glad to hear it.” His cheeks are split in an easy, wide grin. There’s a softness to him that I haven’t seen before and it sets me at ease in an instant. I just hope that safety pertains also to my heart.
I’ve died and gone to heaven.
Twirling slowly in the center of the living room of our suite, I take in as much of the grandeur as I can. Even though we’ve been in the hotel for almost an hour already, I can’t
get enough of this place. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen what I think are some pretty magnificent places with Presley. The suite is classic and beautiful, with crystal chandeliers looming everywhere, marble on the counters and floors, and attention to detail on everything from the throw pillows to the vases filled with fresh flowers.
The echo from the door closing in the foyer rings through the room. I hear Fenton’s shoes squeak against the tile and nearly lose my breath when he rounds the corner. He’s wearing a dark blue suit and crisp white shirt, his hair damp from the shower. Seeing him never fails to make me weak, but in a suit—I’m a puddle. He’s so divine, so perfect, I can’t believe my eyes. And when he flashes me the grin like he does just now, I nearly drop to my knees.
“Everything look all right?” he asks.
I want to let him know exactly how all right things look from my perspective and that it has nothing to do with the room, but rather the man standing in front of me. His jaw tenses as he waits for my reply.
“This is just spectacular, Fenton,” I coo, deciding to keep it about the more permanent features. “Honestly. I don’t even know what to say.”
He saunters towards me in what would appear a relaxed manner, but it’s not. I can see the truth in his steely eyes. He’s on a mission—for what, I’m not sure. But I’m hoping to know soon.
I nibble my bottom lip and watch him near. His features have darkened, the playfulness of only moments ago now long gone. He stands so close we nearly touch, but the bastard doesn’t allow that to happen. That would be too easy. I’m learning that he likes to torture me with his self-restraint, something I thought I had in spades but he swipes away with his deft skill.
“This is my favorite room in this hotel,” he says, looking down at me. “But I have a feeling after this week, it’s never going to look the same.”
“Is that so?” I gulp.
He grins. “It is. Or I hope so, anyway.”
Wherever It Leads Page 6
