Deep in her heart, she believed that he’d had at least one concealed weapon on him. He’d complained too much about having to store his shotgun in the thick metal lockbox embedded into the back of his truck. He’d said that if it wasn’t for his electronic gear, he’d be naked walking into the airport, but he’d said it with that shit-eating grin, and now he was gone. Any minute airport security could swarm her in full riot gear, guns and batons drawn, looking for the slightest reason to violate her rights and lock her away in some undisclosed detention site where she’d never be seen by her loved ones again.
So why aren’t you taking your black ass home Stormy?
The answer correlated directly to the way Lucas Beaumont made her feel, like every part of her was pure lusciousness he couldn’t stop himself from playing in. That, combined with the simple freedom of just being herself, was too hard to walk away from. It was insane, but this was the time to allow for a bit of insanity; almost thirty days of it to be exact.
She just hoped Lucas returned, prayed to her ancestors that he wasn’t somewhere decimating the place. Under normal circumstances he seemed like the most laid-back person, but when triggered, she’d seen what he could do, knew that he’d had a dissociative episode, believed she was capable of intervening if she saw him begin to check out. She’d worked with the most wounded and dangerous parts of folks for most of her career. The fact that Lucas’s violence resided within a body the size of a small mountain did give her pause, but in the end, it was Terry’s subtle reassurance that his special syringes would be available to her once they reached Oklahoma in a few hours, and Mama not-so-subtly guilt-tripping her about what could happen to Lucas if Stormy wasn’t there that kept her feet moving forward.
Approaching her boarding gate, she saw a group of empty seats along the windowed wall and sat, dropping her large bag into the chair to her right. The suited man and expensively dressed woman further down the row seemed to hold a certain contempt for her purse, if their frowns were any indication. She stared them down until they turned away, and was in no way ashamed that her purse nearly filled the entire seat bottom. She had stuff she needed to have close at hand if—
She startled violently, clasping a hand over her mouth to cut off the scream that escaped when Lucas plopped down in the empty chair on her left. The whole room seemed to turn toward them with expressions of surprise and concern.
“Sorry y’all, little woman’s got a fear of flying, makes her a bit twitchy, yeah.”
“God, I hope we don’t have to sit next to them on the plane,” Stormy heard the woman who’d thrown disparaging looks at her bag whisper loudly.
Instead of glaring down the row again, she glared at Lucas. He was to blame for her agitation as well as the little flutter in her chest when she saw the twinkle in his emerald eyes. He enjoyed the fact that he’d scared her.
“I’m not a little woman, Big Bunion,” she mumbled. “But compared to you, I guess mature oak trees look like twigs.”
He leaned over, his large body crowding her back against the chair, his lips stopping millimeters from her ear as his hand slid from her outer to inner thigh, his fingers digging into the meaty flesh near the juncture. “Darlin’, as long as you remember that I wield the hardest, most satisfying wood both sides of the Mississippi, I don’t care what names you call me.”
A shallow orgasm rippled up her vaginal walls. It was becoming a common response to his touch, the confident way he moved, the sexy drawl that sometimes veered toward bayou twang when he wasn’t more mindful.
She crossed her legs, trapping his fingers within the seam.
“You don’t know who you’re messing with, do you, Lucas Beaumont? You’ll learn, and I have a feeling it’s gonna be the hard way.”
His fingers pressed deeper. “The hardest.”
She smiled. She loved flexing her sexual power with him, loved that he wasn’t repelled or intimidated by it.
“I got a feeling we may be joining the mile-high club tonight darlin’.”
“What makes you think I’m not already a member?”
He pulled back and frowned. “Chad…was it fuckingChad? I should’ve popped that little fucker’s chest wide open when I had the chance—”
“It wasn’t Chad.”
“Wasn’t Chad…then who the hell had you up here…?” He ended in a huff of confusion.
She struggled to hold back a smile. “A little spring break wildness. You know, back in the day it was way easier to join that club than it is today.”
Sitting back, he faced forward, planted his feet wide apart and he stared off in contemplation.
“Well I’ll tell you what, when we hit altitude, I’m laying you out, right there in the main aisle, soeverybodycan see, and you know what I’m bringing?” She shook her head, though he wasn’t even looking at her. “The thunder. I’m bringing themutherfuckin’thunder, have you coming so hard everyone on the ground will think it’s raining manna from heaven.” She burst out laughing. “I ain’t lyin’, wait and see.”
The overhead speaker announced that the flight would begin boarding, and the bottom nearly dropped out of Stormy’s stomach as people began forming a line at the ticket stand.
“Flying really ain’t that bad, sweetness, you gotta relax, ya know?” He sat up straight, pressed his thumbs against the pointer fingers of each hand as if doing a yoga pose. “Breeeathe…” he intoned, closing his eyes momentarily before turning to her and smirking. “Time for the healer to heal herself.”
“Wow, you’re really going to mock me like that, right to my face?”
“All right in here,” he said, circling his open hand inches from her nose.
She laughed. “Okay…okay, Lucas, you’ll see. Like my auntie Lettie always says, some people won’t believe fat meat is greasy until reality sizzles through that ass. You’ll see.”
She reached for her bag and stood but Lucas pulled her down into his lap, circling his arms around her like a vise. “Don’t worry, Sienna Red. I promised your folks that I’d keep you safe, didn’t I?”
