Bastard even props his left arm along the back of the seat, his right hand over my hand. He arches an eyebrow at me. “Keep going, boy,” he mutters.
I’m not sure if he means I should keep talking, or keep doing what I’m doing to him, but I err on the side of caution and continue doing both.
I did tell you I don’t have the ability to say no to him. Could I safeword? Yeah, but only if it’s for something beyond myself, or because I’m in the bad kind of pain that I think is verging on serious harm.
I have the same problem with Casey, too.
Maybe because I trust both of them. I know Casey doesn’t trust George, but I suspect that’s more because of Casey’s personal reasons than anything George has done. Even with the breath play, I still think George would protect me.
Maybe that’s stupid, I don’t know. Maybe it’s dangerously naive.
He never killed Ellen in their years together.
Okay, so he can unleash on me in ways he didn’t feel he could with her. Great. That means he trusts me, too, right? That I won’t go reporting him to the cops later?
The trip to the airport is far too short. I have George tucked in before we arrive, and he gives me a quick kiss before we pull up to the hangar. I’m hard horny and it’s going to take me the whole flight to Knoxville, probably, to shove my brain back into work mode.
“That was mean, Sir,” I mutter.
His smile widens. “Was that a complaint, boy?”
I smirk. “I didn’t saythat, Sir.”
“My very good boy.”
It surprises me when Casey shows up, too, with another EPU detail, but it’s not until Aussie also emerges from the same car that I realize there’s a family element to today’s trip.
Ryder and Logan live in Knoxville, where they’re both attending school. Logan’s got an apartment and Ryder lives in a dorm. Next year, Ryder will be in his own apartment. They boys love each other, but if they had to live together, they’d probably kill each other. They look a lot alike—like younger versions of their dad—but their personalities are completely different. Ryder is very serious, like his dad in work or politician mode all the time, while Logan is the more playful side of his dad. He can buckle down and work when called for, but he’s a big goofball.
During the flight, Aussie sits next to George, who takes the window seat and doesn’t even offer it to her. I’m guessing Casey probably briefed Aussie about that, because she doesn’t ask her dad if she can have the window.
George never lets me or Casey sit by the window, either. It damn near sends him into a panic attack, because then he’s hit with flashbacks about Ellen dying.
He let her have the window seat, at her request.
Even though we’ve finally got him to admit it’s not his fault she died just because he let her have the window seat instead of taking it himself, he still can’t bring himself to let someone like me or Casey—or his kids, apparently—sit there.
It’s sweet, in a sad sort of way. But it’s also sometimes a logistical pain in the ass.
Like today. This small plane only has two seats to a row, meaning I’m not able to be seated next to George, or near him. I can’t even take the seat directly in front of or behind him, because I’m under orders from him not to sit in a window seat. I have to sit in the row ahead of them and kneel on my seat, turned around, to talk to him during the flight and go over meeting prep.
There’s no one in the window seat in my row. Casey sits across the aisle from them in that aisle seat, no one in her row’s window seat, either.
Thankfully, Casey’s talked to the EPU officers and briefed them about all of this. George’s flying needs, I mean. It’s not public knowledge, and we’d like to keep it that way.
Aussie and Casey go off together in a separate direction with another detail once we’re on the ground, but I’m too busy with final meeting prep with George to question that. Later, once we finish our meeting, we climb into an SUV and our detail sets off.
I don’t recognize where we’re going, and I finally ask George. “Why aren’t we heading to the airport?”
It’s just the two of us in the back of the SUV, and George is holding my hand. He squeezes. “We’re making a stop for dinner first.” He smiles.
Thatsmile.
Oh, shit.
That’swhen it hits me.
We pull into the apartment complex just before six p.m.
