Page 53 of The Flight Risk

“Come in,” she says.

I turn the knob and I have to steady myself when I see Tess. She is leaning forward against the dresser, putting on earrings. I knew her dress was green. What I didn’t know is how it hugs her curves in the best way. Her olive skin looks just as silky as her dress. Her back is exposed, and the deep V in the front of the dress reveals her cleavage. Her hair is down and curled in a glamorous way, as if she was plucked out of an old Hollywood film and transported to present day.

“Almost done,” she says while putting on her red lipstick. She presses her lips together, smacking them in an unbearably sexy way. Then she notices me standing there in the doorway, completely frozen. She clicks the cap onto her lipstick, places it in her small purse, and walks over to me, her heels clicking against the hardwood. She smooths down my tie. “You ready?”

I gently press her up against the wall and say roughly, “No.” I close the door and turn the lock.

“Oakley, we’re going to be late to the ceremony if we don’t leave in the next ten minutes.”

“That’s plenty of time.” I take her purse and throw it on the dresser. I back her up against the wall and kiss her hard. Her soft hands are on both sides of my face, tender and possessive.

I run my fingers along her torso, hips, thighs and that’s when I find the slit in the dress. I playfully brush my hand against her inner thigh. Her body shivers as my fingers slide her panties to the side and I start fingering her. “I love how wet you are for me already.”

“Adam,” she whimpers against my lips as her knees buckle. She clutches onto the back of my head, making a mess out of my hair. I kiss her neck and she tastes like paradise. Her pussy tightens around my fingers and my dick is straining against my pants. The need to have her constantly is ruling my life and I’m not complaining. Tess grinds against my hand and she unravels completely, almost making me fall to pieces in the process. Once I know she’s done, I place my fingers in her hot, wet mouth and say, “Suck.” Her gorgeous red lips wrap around my fingers as she obeys, locking eyes with me. My self-control goes out the window. I remove my fingers from her mouth, grasp her hair tightly, and kiss her deeply.

She moans against me and I desperately want to go over to the bed and make love to this woman who already has me thinking about forever. “You know, we can skip the wedding.” I nip her bottom lip.

Tess smiles and whispers back, “I’m already an outsider. I don’t need any more strikes against me.”

I smirk against her plump, red lips. “There are zero strikes against you. It’s not like I’m a groomsman. No one will miss me.”

She kisses me softly. “I doubt that. You’re pretty missable.”

I pull on her hair and she gasps. “Do you miss me when I’m not home?” I ask. Suddenly, the idea of Tess permanently moving in turns into a full-on mental montage of what our lives could be together. Her clothes strewn around the house, the air smelling of the fresh flowers I would always surprise her with. Tess sitting on the counter as I cook for her, spooning her mouthfuls of sauce or our favorite takeout because naturally we would have a favorite takeout place. I never thought I would find someone who could handle the demands of my career, drive me absolutely insane, while simultaneously make me want to worship the very ground she walks on. Tess is everything I’ve ever wanted.

I fear that she may be freaking out when she doesn’t respond to what I just sputtered out about home, implying that it’s already ours–together–so I decide to kick things up a notch.

I push my fingers back into her, deeper, and gently press on her clit with my thumb. She whimpers and her legs begin to shake. She exhales. “Yes. I miss you when you aren’t home.”

“Good, because I miss you, too.”

We make it to the wedding with a couple minutes to spare. Tess had to redo some of her makeup and I had to wipe off the lipstick from my own lips and neck. I don’t want to get called out like Lottie called me out that one time in the closet. I especially don’t want my parents to see the evidence of what Tess and I were doing in my bedroom.

Heads turn when everyone sees me and Tess attempt to sneak into the two seats my parents saved for us. All eyes are on Tess. How can they not be? She’s the most gorgeous person in the room. In any room. And she’s mine.

After the ceremony, Tess runs to the ladies room. My dad goes off somewhere to talk about all things hockey with all of his golf buddies, leaving me and my mom standing in the middle of the Chicago Botanical Garden. Waiters disperse amongst the guests and I grab two flutes of champagne. “Here you go, Mom.”

“Thank you, Adam. I swear your father could talk about hockey for hours. I’m just glad he has some friends he can yap to all day long. Don’t get me wrong, I love hockey, but I can’t sit and watch all the games like he can. I only watch Dallas and Chicago games and then I busy myself with my cross-stitching. No offense.”

I shake my head. “You’re fine, Mom. I love that you are still cross-stitching.”

“Keeps the mind sharp.” I chuckle and let the champagne fizzle down my throat. “So, Tess.”

“Tess.” I repeat and I can’t help but cheesily grin like a fool in love.

“I like her. She is definitely outgoing. So not like who you usually date.”

“Yeah. She’s, um, pretty amazing, Mom.” I can feel myself blush thinking of all the ways Tess fits the description of amazing. The moment I saw her in that hot pink dress at Casino Night. Her sitting on the couch next to me in Telluride. Watching TV in her matching sets and eye patches. Her in a wet white tank top at my lakehouse. Every moment with Tess this past month has been nothing short of amazing.

My mom’s eyes widen and she smiles. “Amazing? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you describe someone like that. Not even when you were with Molly.”

“She’s different, Mom.” I see Tess emerge from the venue. The evening light makes her look ethereal. A goddess among mortal men. She finally spots me and the smile that graces her face is the best thing I’ve ever seen.

“Oh sweetheart, I know that look,” my mom says, her voice laced with both joy and sadness when she realizes the fact I’ve known for a while now. That her only son is head-over-heels in love. “You’re not moving back to Chicago, are you?”

“Not without her.”

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