by Claire, Ava
I ran my eyes over the curve of his delicious lips, the angle of his patrician nose and paused on the deep blue of the eyes that made me melt. I was a puddle, stripped and bare. I saw how much he loved me. How frustrated he was because I kept him on the outside. I was the one that taught him how important it was to communicate, and I wasn’t even practicing what I preached.
I let out a sigh, coming clean. "Lunch was terrible."
His fingertips smoothed over my cheek. "I've gathered that much, love. All the more reason why you should have let me come with you."
"No, because it was supposed to be us girls-" I snapped my mouth shut. That wasn't true. I didn’t invite Jacob because I’d made a pact with myself. I'd decided to shut it all down. I was finally going to be honest about the wedding I wanted. I could handle their flabbergasted response, but Jacob's would have cut like a knife.
I swallowed hard. "That's not true."
His forehead wrinkled as he frowned. "It wasn't a girls thing?"
I shook my head. "It was, kinda. But that's not why I didn't want you to come."
"Why didn't you want me to come, Leila?"
"Because it meant admitting I've been lying to you." When his expression hardened, I tried to soften the blow. "It's nothing hardcore. I mean, it is serious-"
"Just tell me what's going on," he said, cutting through my jumbled confession. He tucked a curl behind my ear. "Serious or not, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
I brought a hand up and covered his. He's not going anywhere. I didn't realize in that moment that some ludicrous part of me had been worried about that as well.
"I was worried about finally coming clean about the wedding," I said gingerly. "After all your mom has done to give us this amazing ceremony, I was worried about hurting her feelings, your feelings, by admitting that I didn't want a big ceremony."
His hold slackened, blue eyes slowly drifting over my face. "What?"
I sucked in air, feeling the heat of shame pricking my face. Was he really going to make me say it again?
He waited. Yes, he is.
"I don't want a big wedding,” I repeated, my voice soft and guilty.
He released me altogether, digesting what I said. "You don't want a big wedding?"
I shook my head slowly. "No, I don't."
He raked a hand through his dark, wavy locks, his expression unreadable.
Crap, I thought, burning with frustration. Not the mask, not now.
He turned away from me altogether, crossing his arms against his chest, muscles rippling beneath his button down shirt.
I felt like my throat was on fire. I didn’t want to move before I got some sort of reaction, but I needed something to sooth the irritation. Steel me. I found my glass and chugged the water. Naturally, it did nothing to dull the burn or loosen the tightness in my chest. I wasn't sure how I expected him to respond, but I knew silence wasn't it. I couldn’t handle this deadening quiet.
His confusion made sense. Who was I? The Leila he fell in love with had a voice. She spoke up, even when it was inappropriate. And how could I have just settled for my own wedding? What happened to my backbone?
But he said nothing.
And it was driving me insane.
I slammed my glass on the counter, wheeling to face him. "Go ahead. Tell me how crazy I've been for just going along with this. Tell me how disappointed you are in me."
He looked at me, eyes quiet, lips parted. "I'm not going to yell at you or beat you up about this.”
My fingers trembled, my glass almost crashing to the floor. “You’re not?”
“I’m not,” he answered. “It's pretty clear that you've been beating yourself up for awhile now. Probably since our first conversation with my mother when she started talking about how she'd put on the perfect Whitmore wedding."
All this time I’d been hesitant to be honest, worried about how he’d respond to me chickening out time and time again. Every time Alicia shared some new item and I feigned excitement.
I slumped my shoulders, a mixture of relief and frustration flooding me. "I should have spoken up."
He nodded, but there wasn't anger or disappointment in his voice. "Yes."
"I just thought that was what you deserved-"
"I'm going to stop you right there." He crooked a finger and beckoned me closer. I inched forward a few inches, but his look told me he wanted me closer. I moved until I was close enough I could feel heat radiating from his body and love sparking in his eyes.
"Listen to me very closely." He paused, tilting his head. "Are you listening?"
I gave him a look. "Yes, I'm listening."
"Good." He leaned in closer, eyes staring down into mine, capturing me and not letting me go. "The only thing I deserve is you. The only thing I want is to spend the rest of my life showing you every definition of happy. And that starts with declaring that you're it for me Leila; that I want to be your husband and I want you to be my wife. If that means a stuffy wedding where we don't know half the people, so be it. If it means going down to the courthouse right now, I'll bring the car around. So you tell me what you want. I want to make your dreams come true."
I traced his jawline with my fingertips, finally saying what I should have from the start. "I just want it to be the way it was when we started. Just you and me. Passion. Romance. Us." I thought back to all the pressure of the expectations of our ceremony and added one last word. “Escape.”
He claimed my lips, sucking all the air from my lungs. I was putty in his hands. He tasted sweet. Like forever.
He pulled back and pressed a kiss against my forehead before he broke away, pulling out his cell. "Hi, I need a car to take us to the airport."
"Airport?" I repeated. "Jacob, what's-"
"Fifteen minutes?" he said, nodding slowly. "We'll be downstairs." He slid the phone back in his pocket and gave me a mischievous smirk. "You better pack quickly."
"What? Pack quickly? Pack quickly for what?"
"You said passion, romance, us and escape? The first place my mind went to was the Caribbean." He roped an arm around my waist, sending a flash of lust to my groin. "We're eloping."
****
As soon as the pilot announced that we were at a safe altitude to power our devices back on, I pulled my phone from where it was perched beneath the magazines, trying to hide the fact that I was hoping boatloads of money meant that I could snag reception long enough to let Megan know what was going on. The last time I’d been whisked away by Jacob Whitmore, I'd barely plunked out a leaving the country text. She was my bestie, I had to do better than 'eloping kbye'.
Jacob shifted across from me, ice clinking in his glass. "You're not nearly as smooth as you think you are."
I batted my eyelashes innocently. "Not sure what you mean."
"You've been trying to use your phone since the wheels lifted off the ground." His eyes glimmered like the ocean. "What was so important that you risked some sort of fluke electronic mishap?"
I jutted out my lip stubbornly. "Oh come on, there's no way my little cell phone can bring down a plane this size. I don't know how many times I've flown with my phone still on and the plane didn't crash and burn."
“There have been multiple instances where flight crew have reported cell phone signals interfered with communication systems which could interfere with navigation.”
I gulped, looking down at the phone in my hand with genuine horror. Jacob's face was drawn and serious—until one side of his mouth started twitching.
"Oh my god!" I hissed, chunking my cocktail napkin at him as the twitch became a full-on grin. "You scared the crap out of me."
He clicked his seat belt, rolling up his sleeves with a smirk still at his lips. "Good. I like knowing I can still surprise you." I didn't know why, but the way he said surprise made me blush furiously. There was something dark and sexy in the word. What kind of surprises did he have planned?
I tilted my head slightly, remembering the sleeping quarters just behind us. Remembe
ring the last time we were in this jet, finding it impossible to keep our hands off each other.
Focus, I told myself sternly. Megan had jokingly told me not to get so frustrated with Jacob's mom and planning that I did exactly what we were geared up and getting ready to do. She tried to act all tough and over the stereotypical squeeing maid of honor, but I knew she really was looking forward to helping me pick out dresses and some over the top bachelorette party.
I woke up my cell with trepidation, hoping the text had gone through before reception went out.
"Generally, the point of eloping is getting away. Unplugging." Of course he was saying this while he was pretending to not look at the screen of his iPad.
I rolled my eyes. "I just wanted to let Megan know what’s going on."
His eyes widened. "Excuse me?"
As hot as the whole ‘Me Tarzan, you Jane’, man-in-charge thing was most of the time, he was starting to grate my nerves. "It'll just take a second." According to the notification on the screen, it was still sending.
"Put the phone down, Leila."
"Jacob-"
"Put. The. Phone. Down."
Every word was more final and commanding than the last and annoyed sigh or not, I put the phone down and locked my gaze on him. "What is it?"
"You are aware that telling everyone you know that you're eloping defeats the purpose, correct?"
"She's not everyone," I said stubbornly. "She's my best friend."
He studied me for a moment, features tense. "This is important to you. Telling her about our plans?"
"We'll she's not gonna blab to the paparazzi if that's what your worried about." His stony glare told me he wanted an answer to his actual question. "Yes, it's important to me."
"Interesting." He stroked his chin, eyes hooded and contemplating. "It's a fair enough request I suppose. And I have half a mind to allow it, despite your attitude."
My mouth fell open. Well thank you very much, Your Majesty! But I just pursed my lips together, not pushing it. I knew what the spark in his eye meant, what the sweep of his tongue across his lip represented.
He wanted to dominate me.
"You'll do as I command you. No questions. Understood?"
My mouth was suddenly painfully dry, but I managed to swallow and say the words. "Yes sir."
He gave me the slightest of grins. "Remove your clothing. All of it."
My lips trembled as my eyes darted to where the flight attendant sat on the other side of a curtain. She'd already done service, so it was highly unlikely that she'd disturb us, but there was still a remote chance that she could.
When I looked at Jacob, I realized I'd already made one mistake. Pushing aside the questions and the natural fear of being caught, I unbuckled my seat belt and brought my hands to my shirt. For the flight, I'd worn an oversized denim button down tunic. It seemed like something easy and comfortable, but now with those blue eyes on me...
I lifted my arms to pull it over my head, but his voice made me freeze.
"Unbutton it. Slowly."
It should have been infuriating. It was like he was purposefully pushing the envelope. After all, it wasn't Jacob that would be sitting there buttnaked as the attendant gaped in shock. But I wasn't infuriated. My body hummed deliciously. I could feel the goose flesh race over my skin beneath my clothing. I didn't need to strip off my underwear to know I was already soaking wet, extremely aroused at the very thought of what I knew was inevitable. I was going to strip.
I started with the top button, barely able to clasp it because my fingers tingled and shook. The first was released and I stole a look at him, seeing his lips part slightly. Those beautiful lips that I couldn't wait to kiss. That I'd get to kiss for the rest of my life. When his eyes narrowed I rushed to the next, then third, before he cleared his throat. I slowed, unhooking the fourth, letting out a shaky breath as I neared the valley of my cleavage and my fingertips stroked the path toward my breasts.
And I was right there, completely naked, the soft leather chair kissing my skin and Jacob stroking me with his intense blue gaze.
I gripped the armrest tight, heat dancing in my belly before it ricocheted over me. "Now what?"
I watched the lust race over his features before he cleared his throat, hiding it away behind cool sophistication. Acting like I wasn't completely in the buff—and he wasn't sporting a raging erection. He was silent, reaching for his glass of scotch and taking a long, deliberate sip. He lowered it down, stoic as ever, but he was gripping the glass like it was a lifeline; the only thing keeping him from losing it and taking me right there.
I expected him to gesture at the sleeping cabin, but he didn't say a word. Gears turned and I wondered if keeping it together, keeping my hands off him, off myself was so hard for me, how hard was it for him? Jacob was a man used to being in control but I could see that he was fighting to keep his cool.
The metallic clink of the rings being slid to the side and the curtain being parted cut through our staring contest.
The worry I had was being realized.
The flight attendant was in the main cabin.
"Can I-" The flight attendant's gasp rippled through the cabin and my chest tightened.
I glanced at her and saw the sheer white terror of her complexion. Not disgust, not judgment like I'd expected. Fear.
I looked back at Jacob, who studied me intently. He probably expected me to futilely grip my clothing and clasp it to my naked body. And that was the first place my mind went. Self-preservation. I was human after all and years of feeling average, less than average even, hadn't been wiped away despite Jacob's love and insistence that I was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
The self doubt lied in my subconscious, waiting for moments like this. Moments where I was face to face with the question: Am I really beautiful? Then the whispers of the girls who used to pick on me and the boys that broke my heart came screaming back. They told me I wasn't someone worthy of Jacob.
Silence reverberated around the room and there was something else that kept me from shrinking away and apologizing for subjecting her to my blinding nakedness. My self doubt was real. The scars I carried would never truly go away. But it wasn't alone. There was another part of me that felt beautiful. Desirable. Who saw confirmation in the way my guy looked at me.
I sat up straight, proud of the way my body was slick against the cool leather. My curves weren't something to cover. I was beautiful.
"I think I'm fine for now." I said, answering the question she didn’t quite get out. I pulled my hair from my ponytail, wild and untamed curls bouncing free and tossed it over my shoulder with a confidence I didn't have to fake. I looked at Jacob, smiling at the way he looked at me. He was impressed. "How about you, sweetheart?"
One side of his mouth tilted upward. "I don't require a drink."
The attendant hustled away, snapping the curtain closed behind her.
Jacob gestured for me to come to him, his deep voice thick as syrup and just as sweet. "There is something else I require."
I slid into his lap, looping my arms around his neck. "And what's that?"
"You."
****
This wasn't happening. I wasn't 37,000 feet in the air in a private jet, straddling Jacob freaking Whitmore with my nipple between his teeth. Groaning. Begging him not to stop.
And he didn't.
I braced myself on the chair, feeling every ragged breath he drew. Teeth bared as he gripped the mounds tight, holding them steady as he stroked it with his tongue. Moaning was a given, as natural as breathing as he flicked the swollen nub back and forth before he moaned and the sound rippled through me. I’d given up trying to do anything but focus on the way he made me feel. I didn’t wonder if I was too heavy or if my groans and the sounds of him licking, sucking me were giving the staff an involuntary front row seat to the action. There was only the rhythm of his mouth, lips, and tongue, pulling me closer to coming.
His lips rounded the curve, hovering just a
bove as his words fluttered over my nipple. “Tell me what you were thinking when she came in.”
I frowned. I didn’t want thinking. I wanted this. More of his mouth. I jutted my chest out and he gave me a smile hot and dirty enough to make me come on the spot...and then he gripped my nipple between his fingers and squeezed.
I winced as the pain cut through the haze of lust, sobering me enough to know he meant business. I knew he wanted me. He was swollen and thumping against the fly of his pants, like he could sense me dripping just past the barrier between us. But he was in charge—and he asked me a question.
The longer I waited to respond, the tighter his grip became.
“What was I thinking?” I eked out, tears rushing to my eyes and receding when he released it. “She’s getting the whole shebang and didn’t even take me to dinner first?”
His thick lips twitched with amusement, but his other aquiline features were chiseled stone.
“I was nervous, but then I...” I trailed off, eyes rolling back in my head as the hand that rounded my bottom spread my cheeks and a single finger slid in the space between. At the moment, I wasn’t even thinking clearly. I was lost in the wet sounds of my desire filling the silence.
“Then you what?” he said softly, eyes hot and heavy.
I almost whined in frustration. More than anything I just wanted him. “Then I just said fuck it.” I emphasized the F word and felt him move with approval. “I just didn’t care if she saw me. All that mattered was if you saw me.”
He swiped his tongue over his bottom lip just as he pushed a finger inside me. I swore it was like he was in my skin, knowing exactly where to press, just the right way to pump to make me spiral to ecstasy. I fought the urge to close my eyes and savor the moment, the desire to gaze into the depths of his blue eyes. His next words made the choice simple. My eyes fluttered open and met his, feeling the tingles of love race over every part of me.
