Sorcha…
“We must return to London.”
Alastair rarely gives me anything to work with when it comes to his expressions, but now, he looks disappointed and oddly, it makes me happy. It means he enjoyed being here, too.
With me.
“I understand,” I say, watching him make me a cup of tea in the sunny kitchen, his deft hands setting the cup on a dish and adding a bit of honey. He’s never asked me how I take my tea but he must have listened when I told Eileen. “Is it Zhang?”
“Yes,” he says, sipping his coffee and looking every inch the cut-throat businessman in his beautiful blue suit. I’m still in my sleep shorts and a tank top, my hair plastered into an untidy bun on top of my head. “Our men are on high alert, so the few skirmishes we’ve had have ended quickly.”
My heart warms when he says, “Our.”
“I dinna understand the fuss,” I say, turning my tea cup around in its dish. “I’m just one girl. Is he aff his heid? Or is this because you made him look weak?”
“You are not ‘just a girl,’ you’re a MacTavish and now, you’re a Taylor,” he says sharply. “Do not denigrate yourself.”
“It seems like a lot of fuss,” I mumble, “I’m thinking there’s more to it?” When I look up and see his cold, closed expression, I know I’m right. “What else is going on?”
“It’s nothing for you to be concerned about,” he says abruptly, rising from the table and buttoning his suit jacket. “Finish your tea, I have a maid packing your things. Be ready to leave in thirty minutes.”
I drink my tea with a sigh and stare out the window. Honeymoon Alastair has scarpered off and left me with Mean, Emotionless Alastair.He’sno fun at all.
And he’s hiding something from me.
***
Alastair spends the first half of our trip barking instructions into the phone. Some conversations seem to please him, others make his jaw tighten and his eyes turn a chilly brown, like frost on the earth. Eventually, I look up from my reading to find him lounging on the couch across from me, running his finger along his lower lip.
“Have ye’ finished your calls?” I ask, closing my book.
“Yes.” Nothing more. Just one word.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, “I could get the flight attendant to assemble something.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not hungry. For food.”
A smile twitches at the corner of my mouth before I can stop it.
“Not even a wee bit subtle, Mr. Taylor.”
“It wasn’t meant to be, Mrs. Taylor.”
Looking around us, I shift uneasily. There’s fifteen men in the main cabin with us, though they’re seated at the other end of the space and can’t overhear us. I hope.
He stands, holding out his hand to me. “Join me, Mrs. Taylor.”
I toss my book onto the leather seat and follow him like an obedient duckling.
The bedroom is the last room at the tail of the jet. It’s decorated in soothing neutral shades with a massive bed dominating the room.
Alastair backs me against the closed door, cupping my face in his hands with the lightest, most tender kiss. Then he lifts me in his arms and throws me onto the bed, my feet flying up and laughing as the carefully arranged pillows flew everywhere.
“I’ve been wanting to do this all fucking day,” he murmurs, moving his mouth and tongue over every inch of me, removing each article of clothing slowly until I’m naked and moaning, my hands stroking over his back and arms, sliding up to cup his face and I pull him down to kiss him.
Standing up at the foot of the bed, he smiles reassuringly, looking me over as he removes his suit. Lifting my leg up and putting it over his shoulder, he runs the tip of his tongue up my skin, groaning low in his throat. “The taste of you on my lips…”
With a dark smile that makes me clench in anticipation, he dives into my pussy, sucking most of my wet lips and clitoris into his mouth with a lewd slurping sound. My hands leave his shoulders and I cover my face, cringing at the embarrassed giggle that escapes my mouth.
