Gravity (Wilde Boys Book 1)

by Sara Cate

  “It’s like riding a bike, Zara. I’m still a good pilot if that’s what you’re worried about.” He climbs back on his jet ski in the water.

  “I don’t fly anymore.” I say it like it’s some unchangeable fact. But to be honest, I’m no match for Alistair’s persuasion, and I already know if he tries to get me in the air, he’ll probably succeed.

  Nash is persuasive too, but I get a thrill out of denying him.

  12

  She’s avoiding me. I mean, I want her to avoid me, but now I feel like she’s being a pouty brat about the incident at the store yesterday. It’s making it hard to focus. I want to keep things on my terms, and I don’t need this girl thinking she can call the shots around here. Just because she can push her little ass against me doesn’t mean I’m going to break all of my rules for her.

  This is why I gave up dating years ago. Sex became something to indulge in from time to time, but there hasn’t been a woman worth sharing any of my money or time with. Since giving all of that up, I’ve been able to focus on the company and gained double the market share, proving once again that women are only trouble.

  The house is silent all morning, and it’s not until late afternoon that I hear them both return from wherever they were all day. Peering out through my office window, I watch them laughing together in the Jeep, and she shoves him playfully when they climb out. He responds by snatching her by the waist and pressing her up against the side of the vehicle. His movement is rapid, but she doesn’t even flinch. Instead, she almost smiles at him as he bends down and kisses her neck. Then, she shoves him away and saunters away toward the guest house. My son watches her go, and for a brief moment, he looks like the old Nash. Like there’s a chink in his armor.

  The rough way he pulled on her in my office the other night didn’t sit right with me—not because I was worried about him or her, but because I knew that look in his eye. I know how it feels to wield control over another person.

  After the two of them retreat into their separate areas of the house, I watch the guest house for movement. It’s not until an hour later that Zara comes out, her hair still wet from her shower. I want to catch her before she goes back to him.

  Walking out the door toward the yard, I catch her eye. Her lazy smile disappears when she sees me walking toward her. She freezes.

  “Have fun today?” I ask.

  Instead of cowering, she lifts her chin a little higher. “Yes, we did. He even told me he’d take me flying.”

  Stopping just a few feet in front of her, I tilt my head. “Really?”

  “Yep.”

  I’m torn between excitement and disappointment. It’s better if he takes her. I know that. Then, I can focus, and I don’t have to talk to her anymore.

  “When are you going?” I ask.

  “I told you, I’m not flying. But he offered, so that’s something.”

  I let out a breath. She tries walking past me like everything is fine, but my nostrils flare as I snatch her by the arm.

  She stops, staring wide-eyed at me.

  “That doesn’t count, Zara. He’s testing you. You need to get the fuck over this fear and let him take you flying. Right now.”

  As she tries to jerk her arm away, I only hold her tighter. “No way,” she snaps.

  “Let’s go. We’re going now.”

  A look of terror washes over her face as I walk her toward the aircraft. I feel her pulling, digging in her heels. “Alistair, I’m serious. Stop!”

  I realize about halfway there that I can’t actually throw an unwilling person into the helicopter, no matter how much I want to. I’d strap her in if I could, but she’s obviously going to make this difficult.

  I know her fear stems from the crash, so I need to be careful about this. Nash’s act of avoiding flight isn’t about fear, it’s about rebellion. He’s not flying because he hates me now. I can’t get him to get over that, but I can get her to get over this fear. And she can get Nash to fly her.

  “All right, listen to me,” I snap, letting her arm go. “You’re going to get over this fear, but you can do it slowly. If Nash is willing to fly for you, then we need to get you in the aircraft, understand?”

  She rubs at her arm, chewing on her lip and staring daggers at me. “Fine.”

  “Don’t move,” I tell her as I disappear into the house. I have a plan that will hopefully work to relax her nerves and get her to calm down in the helicopter. I walk over to the wine rack in the dining room, pulling out a bottle of Napa red. After pocketing the corkscrew, I grab two glasses and head back out to where the green N-4 is parked on the far side.

  “What’s that for?” she asks, following after me.

  “This is to calm your ass down,” I answer as I hand her the bottle and pull open the door. This is the most spacious model I have on the island, so it’s perfect for what I have planned.

  She doesn’t budge and stares at me like a deer in headlights.

  “Relax. We’re not leaving the ground tonight. This is just to get you to relax in the cockpit.”

  “How do I know I can trust you?” Her confidence seems to be waning as she tries to remain brave enough to fight me.

  “You don’t. Now get in.”

  Her eyes scan my face, and I see her hesitation. Then, she glances around as if she’s looking for someone or afraid of being caught. Finally, her shoulders relax, and she lets out a heavy sigh.

  “Do I have a choice?” she asks.

  “No.”

  It’s starting to get late, and the sun hangs low in the sky. I haven’t eaten anything today, so this wine is likely to go straight to my bloodstream.

  She nods but glares back at the inside of the aircraft. I remember vividly the first day I flew her home. It was the first weekend Preston brought his new girlfriend to Del Rey, and I agreed to let Emma bring her sister. I understood this environment could be intimidating when you’re alone.

  She hardly spoke a word to me all that weekend, but she caught my eye. Unlike her sister, Zara seemed to have a wiseness in her eyes, as if she was always watching and picking up on everything. I caught myself staring at her a second too long the entire three days she was with us.

  When she climbed into the helicopter for the ride home, I enjoyed her silence on the comms. I noticed the way she watched everything I did, and instead of looking nervous or scared, Zara smiled.

  It was like she was a different person without her sister around.

  “Let’s make a deal,” I say, watching her breathing start to pick up and the panic set in. “We’re just going to sit in the cockpit today. I don’t have to teach you anything. I didn’t bring the keys so we’re not even going to start it. Just let yourself get comfortable in the seat.”

  After a few moments of silence, she nods her head. “Okay.”

  She reaches out a hand as I help her in. There are four seats in this model, two in the front, two in the back. After she scoots over to the right seat, I climb in next to her. Reaching across her, I pull the lever to open the opposite door, creating a pleasant cross breeze.

  Our eyes meet while I’m leaning over her, and I practically hear the erratic sound of her breath. Sitting back in my seat, I pull out the wine bottle from the floor and begin the work of uncorking it.

  “I hope you like dry wine.”

  “You already know I love scotch. Of course, I like dry wine.” Her answer comes out clipped and practically muttered, but it makes me laugh all the same. With a quick pop, the wine is open, and I pour us both a glass.

  She looks at me as if she’s waiting for permission to drink it.

  I may like expensive things and have good taste, but I’m certainly not the kind of guy who fucking swirls and samples wine. With a wink, I toss back the whole glass and watch as a moment later she does the same thing.

  “This should help,” she says. As the glass comes down from her lips, she stares at it in astonishment. “Holy shit, this is amazing.”

  I pour her another glass of wine a
s she chews her lip. I desperately want her to say what’s on her mind.

  “What were you two fighting about when you got back?” I ask.

  She lets out a heavy sigh. “Everything is a fight for control with Nash. He wants me to get over my fear of flying. He wants to make sure he’s always in control, so it makes my job a little hard when I’m trying to convince him to do something. Now where have I heard this before?” she says with a smug smile on her face.

  “Don’t give him all of the control, Zara. Let him think he has it, but don’t be afraid to fight him for it.”

  “And how would you know that?” she asks.

  I want to tell her that apple didn’t fall far from the tree, but I don’t. “I just do.”

  “You’re a couple of stubborn assholes,” she says, and the space grows awkward and silent between us. “I’m not afraid of him,” she adds, but she won’t look at me. “I had clients like that all the time at the club. The ones who didn’t like letting go, and honestly, I like the challenge. The payoff was always better.”

  My mind takes off, thinking about her in the club, the way she would dance for her clients, using her methods of persuasion to test their limits. This is definitely the wine kicking in because I want to hate her for that, but I don’t. Instead, I want to test her boundaries myself. See how much of a challenge she really likes, the struggle, the vision of Zara being shoved against a wall, a hand around her throat, in her hair, against her ass—

  Stop.

  I swallow the rest of my wine, and it goes down with an air bubble that causes my throat to burn like a motherfucker. My coughing comes out violently, and suddenly she’s laughing.

  When I glance over at her, her cheeks are as red as her wine, and she’s giggling so hard she has to cover her face with her hand.

  When it finally subsides and we’re left in silence, Zara picks up the bottle and refills her glass. Already she seems more relaxed with me. The shake in her hands is gone, and she’s regained the color in her cheeks.

  “Nash seemed happier today,” she says quietly. “But I’ll be honest, Alistair. I don’t know how I can repair your relationship if I don’t know what happened.”

  “I wish I knew.”

  “He just stopped talking to you after the crash?”

  I think back to that day and try to remember the last thing my son ever said to me. It’s all such a blur. The accident eclipsed everything else, and just remembering that day, the very moment my world tilted off its axis, hollows out my chest even more.

  But there is a vague memory of that morning. Just after Preston and Emma took off, bound for the mainland when I remember Nash coming out of the pool. He glared at me with such anger that I was struck by it. We were always easy on each other. I didn’t want to be the strict, uncaring father mine was, but seeing that expression on his face brought out my guilt. Guilt for the terrible thing I had done, although there was no way he could have known.

  Zara came out of her guest house moments later, and I let it go. I couldn’t face her.

  Then the news came in, and nothing was ever the same again. Everyone stopped talking, so Nash giving me the silent treatment went mostly unnoticed.

  I feel a hand on my arm, pulling me from my dark memories, and I turn toward Zara, almost completely forgetting the question she just asked.

  “We don’t have to talk about it.”

  I’m so struck by her for a moment I can’t speak. It’s not just her beauty, those green eyes, that dark hair that cascades over her shoulders, or the soft high-pitched voice like warm honey. It’s her grace in everything she does. How can she care so much about me or Nash when it was her own sister who died in that crash? I almost wish she’d hate me as much as my son does. I wish she’d spew repulsion at me for putting her sister on that flight in the first place.

  But she doesn’t. She touches my arm and shows me compassion, and it murders any restraint I had. Zara is off-limits. I don’t need to be getting involved with anyone. I can fantasize about a world where a girl half my age, a girl like her, might be mine, but it has to stay a fantasy.

  “I honestly don’t know why Nash stopped talking to me, but I assume it’s because I grieved his brother’s death differently than he did. Nash responded in anger, and I guess I never really responded at all.”

  “Just because you didn’t show it, doesn’t mean you didn’t feel it,” she says, a slight shake to her voice.

  Her hand is still on my arm, and I’m desperate for her to both leave it and take it away at the same time.

  “Does he talk about me?” I ask, clearing my throat. She pulls her hand away, leaving the warmth of her touch there, a burn marked on my skin.

  Her mouth twists like she’s hiding something.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” I watch as she takes another gulp of her wine, and I notice the slightly slowed movement of her hands. It wasn’t my intention to get her a little buzzed for anything other than getting her comfortable in the cockpit, but now it almost seems like it will literally loosen her lips, and if it helps my son, I’m not sorry about that.

  “He doesn’t like me talking to you,” she says before biting her lip, staring down at her now empty glass.

  A familiar sense of shame comes flooding back. I have to remind myself there’s no way for Nash to know what happened before the crash, but just hearing her say that reminds me although I have no intention of taking her attention from him, I might be doing it anyway. I don’t blame him for hating the sight of me talking to the girl he’s with.

  I need to stop this right now. Just as I’m about to tell her this, that we can’t be alone anymore, she looks at me and shatters my will again.

  “But I can be stubborn too, so he’ll just have to get over it.”

  With that, she turns and hops out of the helicopter, leaving me with my guilt and a false sense of hope.

  13

  My head is in a warm haze as I walk back toward my guest house. I can’t stomach the idea of dinner right now. That wine seemed to fill me up.

  But there’s another sense of warmth there. I don’t know what it is, excitement, maybe? Alistair wanted to ease my nerves to get me to sit in a helicopter and I did it. But he’s fucking nuts if he thinks I’m going to leave the ground with him.

  I know Nash is going to be pissed at me for talking to his dad, but that only rouses more anticipation. Even if he was asleep in his room, I’m sure he heard us talking, me laughing. Fuck, maybe I did it on purpose. Maybe I wanted him to hear it, because I knew I’d be punished for it.

  When I walk through the door of the guest house, I feel his presence, looming in the darkness. He’s sitting on the bed, his elbows resting on his knees.

  Why am I not afraid? What is different about this encounter than before? He’s not drunk now. But he’s angry, livid. I can feel it radiating off of him as I stand there and watch him. Waiting for him to pounce.

  I am ready to fight. Squeezing my thighs together, my skin tingles with arousal.

  “I thought I told you not to let me catch you talking to him again.” His voice is menacing, and it sends a chill down my spine.

  “He practically dragged me into that helicopter. He wants me to get over my fear.”

  I know my mistake the moment his head snaps up, staring at me with anger. “I told you I wanted to take you flying. You won’t fly with me, but you’ll fly with him?”

  “We didn’t fly. We just sat in the seats,” I snap back at him with attitude.

  He stands and stalks toward me so fast, I flinch. With a snarl, he backs me against the wall. “You’re mine, Zara. He bought you for me.”

  My body screams at me as I melt in his arms. His warm breath in my face sends a flash of fear, but it awakens something in me.

  “I don’t belong to either of you,” I argue.

  A hand drifts up to my throat, like he’s testing how I’ll react. I don’t stop him. “What are you doing to me?” he breathes. “Why do I feel like I’m losing control eve
ry time I’m around you? Because you want me to, don’t you?”

  With our eyes on each other, I clench my jaw and ready myself for a fight. A second later, there’s a tic in his eye.

  “What’s wrong, Nash? No one’s ever told you no before?”

  I must be drunk. Stupid, stupid, Zara.

  His nose presses against my cheek as goosebumps erupt all over my body. Deep down, I know this is a cruel game we’re playing, but I trust him. I trust him to push me to the edge without going too far. We’re both so desperate to feel something we’re stuck in this sick back and forth.

  His hands wrap around my thighs and he hoists me up, wrapping my legs around his waist and carrying me to the bed. As he throws me violently against the mattress, I have to bite my lip to keep from grinning at him.

  “All bets are off now, Zara.”

  “Fuck you,” I say with smile.

  There’s a tremor in my bones as I watch him tear off his shirt. His dark hair hangs over his eyes like a cloak. Standing in front of me in just his gray sweatpants, the outline of his growing erection and the muscles of his chest cascaded in shadows from the moonlight, I nearly pant at the sight.

  “Come take my pants off,” he commands.

  Moving onto all fours, I keep our eyes locked as I crawl toward him, and as soon as I’m within reach, he snatches up a handful of my hair. My eyes fill with tears from the sting, but I don’t tell him to let go. Instead, I run my fingers along his waistline and watch as his skin reacts with goosebumps.

  “Take them off,” he grunts through his teeth.

  Pulling the elastic down, his hardness springs free. I know what’s coming, so I look up at him, waiting for his next move. With his hand hard against my scalp, he moves my mouth toward his cock.

  “Suck it, Zara.”

  Why the fuck does that make my toes curl? Why does being so controlled make me want to do everything I can to please him? I can feel the moisture pooling in my panties.