She scrunches her nose, “I’m not the biggest fan of those. I have a horrible track record with spontaneous events.”
There it is. That look. It’s gone almost as quickly as it appeared— just like Owen and Lev. They get these faraway looks. However, tonight isn’t about the things haunting her— it’s about seeing more twinkles in her eyes.
We pull up at the hangar, stopping near the runway.
“Holy shit.” Ariah gawks at the sleek white Bombardier Global 7500.
I’m no aviation aficionado, but this baby moves while offering the comforts of a five-star hotel.
“Seriously, how rich are you assholes?”
“Enough,” is all I say in response.
We climb the steps, and Rachel, our private attendant, greets us. She stands in a jet-black skirt suit with a matching blazer and ivory collared shirt.
“Welcome back, Mr. Grant. Will it just be you and Miss Bishop this evening, or are we waiting for others?” she inquires. Her wide, warm smile showcases pearly-white teeth.
“Just us, Rachel,” I inform her.
She nods, “Very well. We’ll be taking off shortly, and I’ll be back to get your order.”
Once she leaves, I walk Ariah to our seats.
“Are you sure you can’t give me a hint about where we’re going?” Ariah bats her eyelashes, trying to coax a hint out of me with her imploring gray eyes.I worked too hard to spoil the surprise.
Leaning over, my mouth ghosts the shell of her ear, and I whisper, “Absolutely not,” before pulling back and bopping her on the tip of her nose.
Huffing, she leans back and crosses her arms, the movement garnering my attention to the delicious way her breasts rise and fall. I imagine her riding me as she feeds me her glorious tits. I imagine them slapping me in the face as I pound deep inside her.
I feel my dick jerk, and I have to bite my lip.Tonight isn’t about sex.I’m going to give my girl the night of her life and let her feel like a teenager for once—carefree.She deserves a break— no, more than a break, and it’s my mission to ensure we give her that.
The pilot’s voice comes through the intercom, announcing our departure and estimated time of arrival without revealing our destination.
“Tell me, Wyatt Grant. What makes you so sure this,” she points between us, “is meant to be?”
“I could give you so many cliché answers. Like the first time I saw you, I just knew. But it’s deeper than that. It’s deeper than superficial. I feel you on a soul-deep level, Ariah. I feel you pumping through my veins— it’s like I need to breathe you in to survive. You own me, and you don’t even realize that you do, Love.”I guess I went cliché after all.But it doesn’t feel that way to me—it’s far more profound. These are just the only words I can use to try and describe what’s innate to me since finding out about her. She doesn’t get it yet. She thinks the first time she saw me was our first time meeting.
I inwardly chuckle. She has no idea how long I’ve been watching her— no inclination of the first time I saw her coming out of school in Colorado, or the time she was bent over planting Winter Creepers along the driveway to spruce up her yard once she moved to Edgewood. Then there were the times I’d watched as her cunt of a mother would come home high off her ass, and she’d pull in from a double shift at the diner, so weary she’d sit in her car trying to catch her breath.
I know she isn’t aware of how many nights I stood over her bed and watched her. Some nights, peace found her. Other nights she was haunted even in her sleep— the medication no help other than to make her unaware of my presence. She can’t remember how many times I brought her to orgasm. That night in her room was the first time she shaved for me. She doesn’t realize how connected we are.
I’m almost giddy at the prospect of her finding out. She’s going to fight because that’s who she is, and I’ll enjoy it because that’s who I am.
Her breath catches, and she tilts her chin like she’s observing me for the first time. “You speak like we’ve known each other our whole lives, not just for a couple of months.”
My smile grows, “You’d be surprised just how well I know you, Love,” I confess, leaning over and capturing her mouth to silence her questions.
She fucking tastes like candy. Her watermelon-lemonade gloss has my hands raising to tug her into me.
I want to make us one. And not for the first time, I think how if it weren’t for the bond I have with the guys, I wouldn’t share her even with them— not even O… and the idea of sharing her with him makes my pants always feel tighter.
We don’t usually share, but with Ariah, if the idea of me fucking Owen turned her on, I’d do it, and I know he would too.
“We will be landing in five minutes. The weather is a cool seventy-five degrees on a beautiful Saturday afternoon.”
The pilot’s voice clears my lust-filled movements.Soon. I’ll have her soon. Just not right now.
* * *
