by Stacy Gail
“Because Killian is my lover’s name, the name I say when you’re inside me and making me lose my mind. Saying the name Brody doesn’t get me nearly as turned on as saying the name Killian, so when we’re in public I have to call you Brody. Either that, or I have to stop wearing panties, because just saying my man’s name makes me too damn wet to be comfortable.”
“Fuck me.” Heavy desire and so much more pulsed through him, not just in his cock but in his chest and mind. It was in every thought he had and each breath he took. In that moment he was filled with all things Dallas, and he didn’t know to fucking handle it. “Fuck me.”
“Should I not have said that? I am wearing panties, if that’s what you’re worried about. If I get felt up by gate security, I promise I won’t embarrass you because I’ve gone commando. Though, honestly, wearing a thong is practically going commando, so—”
“Stop talking,” he gritted out through clenched teeth while hunger pounded at him until he half-feared he’d have to go through the entire flight with a bad case of blue balls. “If you can stop talking about thongs and getting wet for the next hour or so, I might be able to fly us to Houston without crashing.”
“What?” Her eyes widened as he climbed out of the truck, rounded to her side and opened the door for her. “What do you mean you might be able to fly us to Houston? It’s not like you’re the one who’s going to fly us there, right?”
“Wrong.” As she slid out of the truck and onto the tarmac, he swept a hand toward the hangar they’d parked in front of. Just within the open hangar doors, a Beechcraft King Air 350i twin-prop sat waiting, its white-topped and blue-bellied fuselage gleaming. “Check that beautiful baby out. Your chariot awaits.”
“My chariot,” she repeated faintly, staring at the plane in such horror he couldn’t help but chuckle. “Are you saying you’re the pilot?”
He nodded, pocketing his keys. “For generations, just about every Brody born has had their pilot’s license. I got my pilot’s license before I got my driver’s license. Same with my brothers.”
“I’ve never known anyone who had a pilot’s license, much less owned their own plane.”
“That’s the nature of big agro business, Spice. Not a week goes by without me or my brothers making trips that’d take forever to drive to—Oklahoma City, Dallas, Austin, Houston. For longer trips, I’ll book a commercial flight, but for the quick hops I like to do it myself since I can make my own schedule.”
“Why didn’t you fly to Sugar Land when you kidnapped me? I’m assuming you didn’t, since you drove us back in your truck.”
“The plane was being serviced when Des got hurt. Malfunctioning altimeter.”
“Oh.” He heard her gulp. “So, you’re saying it was broken.”
“I’m saying it’s not broken now. That’s what matters, right?”
“Right.” She didn’t look sold, however, as she kept a dubious eye trained on the twin prop. “I’ve never seen an airplane up close or anything. I was thinking that this particular plane looks kind of...small. Is there a bigger one we can borrow, maybe?”
God, she was cute. “This baby can carry up to eleven people, has an onboard lavatory, a range of almost two-thousand miles, and can carry about five-thousand pounds of additional cargo. If we went commercial, we’d probably still be in a little puddle jumper smaller than this, we’d be stuck with whatever schedule they dictated, and we wouldn’t have nearly the amount of luxury. I’m a spoiled sonofabitch—I insist on first-class in everything that’s mine.” He curled an arm around her shoulders and guided her toward the hangar and the waiting attendant. “Explains why I can’t get enough of you. First-class all the way.”
“Sweet talk isn’t going to stop me from panicking,” she promised as they neared the man, a tablet in his hand. “And who the hell says I’m yours?”
“You did.”
“When did I do that?”
“When you admitted that just saying my name makes you wet. That means at the very least, I own that fucking beautiful pussy of yours.” With a grin designed to make her nuts, he let her go to take care of the pre-flight check, well aware that she was doing her damnedest not to explode volcano-style.
The day was still young. He had plenty of time to get that explosion out of her, in the best possible way.
He couldn’t wait.
“I’ve decided I’m no longer angry with you.” Dallas couldn’t stop smiling as she settled back in the limo, a mimosa in hand. In the trunk were two suitcases crammed full of every article of clothing she’d had in her apartment in Sugar Land. Her apartment had been hot, filled with stale air after being closed for most of the summer, and weirdly unfamiliar, like it had no connection to her at all. It was as if she didn’t belong there and her real home was now somewhere else. She didn’t even know why she was keeping a lease on it when she couldn’t imagine coming back there to live. In Bitterthorn she had a great couple of jobs, new friends she cared about, and she’d reconnected with her brother, the only family she had left in the world. Why would she want to leave a place that now felt more like home than her old apartment?
And she had Killian, her mind whispered slyly, and her smile widened as she sipped her drink. That, more than anything, was why she wanted to stay in her old hometown. As sappy as it sounded, she wanted to be wherever Killian was.
“Glad to hear you’re no longer mad at me. Is that why you’re smiling?”
“I’m smiling because I’m happy.” She tossed him a sassy grin. “You have no idea how good it is to not have to wear those stupid black heels. The next time you kidnap me, could you please give me a heads-up first so that I can pack a varied selection from my awesome shoe wardrobe? For instance, these cute high-heeled sandals would have been the bomb to wear all this past summer. Aren’t they gorgeous?” She held out a leg to show off the strappy high-heeled beige sandals with a ton of beading and charms hanging from the ankle cuff. “But at this juncture, I would like to reserve the right to be mad at you while still being happy. You know, for the future.”
“Duly noted.” Seated beside her, Killian caught her leg before she put it down and rested her foot on his lap. “Why have you decided you’re no longer mad at me?”
“One, because you got us here so early we had time to drive to Sugar Land so I could finally get my clothes. And two, this mimosa is brightening my mood like you wouldn’t believe. Though I’d better be careful, since I haven’t had anything to eat except a piece of toast, and that was hours ago at your place. They have stuff like hot dogs and nachos at the stadium, right? I’m starting to get crazy-hungry.”
“I think we can do better than that. But don’t worry,” he added as the massive stadium came into view. “I promise I’ll get you fed.”
She’d never been to a ballgame before, so she did her best to drink it all in. Crowds of people in skin-bearing tanks, T-shirts and shorts, ball caps and sunhats of all sorts were streaming in from the acres and acres of parking. Trolleys zipped up and down the lanes picking up fans, while buses offloaded more people. There were people who’d painted their faces in their team’s colors, while others carried banners and homemade signs, and others still carried baseball gloves.
It was a feast for the eyes, and she couldn’t wait to join the happy madness.
To her surprise, however, their limo didn’t pull up at the offloading area where the trolleys and buses were disgorging their passengers. Instead it drove around to an underground parking area off to one side of the huge structure. Once there, the limo driver came to a stop at a valet podium, got out and opened her door.
“We’re here.” Smiling, Killian gestured toward the exit. “Time for me to spoil you rotten.”
Her heart took up acrobatics. “Seriously, you are the best kidnapper.”
“Don’t forget to give me five stars on Yelp.”
If she could have given him a million stars for being the hottest, most attentive man on the planet, she’d do it in a heartbeat, she thought as the
y headed inside, loving how he caught hold of her hand while they walked, as if hand-holding was the most natural thing in the world for them to do. And it wasn’t limo rides with mimosas, or private planes he piloted himself that made her think that—though she had to admit, she wasn’t hating him for spoiling her. It was everything Killian did.
Full-tilt passion drove him in all things, from taking care of his brothers to taking care of business. His father had pulled the ultimate dick move by dumping his earthly responsibilities on Killian’s shoulders right before offing himself, and most people would have long ago been crushed by the weight of such overwhelming responsibility. Not Killian. He’d taken a million-dollar business and shot it into the billion-dollar stratosphere in less than a decade, and he’d done it in spite of that weight. Hell, maybe even because of it.
When given that ultimate challenge, Killian Brody hadn’t buckled. It simply wasn’t in him.
Was it any wonder she loved him?
“You’ve gone quiet.” He nodded at a security guard, showed his ID, then passed a key card over a sensor pad at a bank of elevators. He pulled her into an empty elevator once the polished brass-plated doors whispered open. “You’re not about to faint from hunger, are you?”
“I was just thinking how amazing you are.” The words were out before she knew she was going to say them, so she tried to laugh them off. “You’ve even convinced me that getting nabbed by you is the best possible thing that could have ever happened to me.”
“Make no mistake, woman, I am the best thing that’s ever happened to you.” Smiling, he pushed her up against the wall and held her there with his body, and all at once her intimate folds warmed with a dizzying rush of lust. “And you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’d say we’re even, wouldn’t you?”
It was almost impossible to answer when her cleft was throbbing just by having him rub his body against hers. “If I agree to whatever it is you’re saying, will you shut up and kiss me?”
His laugh tasted sweet as he captured her mouth, and he kissed her just the way she liked it—long and deep and twining his tongue with hers until it felt like sex itself. Even when the elevator stopped and he led her out into a brightly lit concourse to a set of frosted glass double doors, she felt like the floor beneath her feet was still moving.
That was what it was like to be kissed by him, she thought dazedly. One kiss, and her whole world shook.
“Welcome back to Minute Maid Park’s MVP Suites, Mr. Brody.” A young man in an orange tie, white shirt and black slacks greeted them just outside the doors. “My name is Thomas, and I’ll be your head waiter for the day. The wait staff have already brought up the lunch you’ve ordered, so let me know when you and your guest will be ready for my crew to serve you.”
“I’ll call if we need anything extra, but until then, my lady and I require total privacy.” Killian tipped the young man before sending him on his way, then turned and opened one of the frosted glass doors for Dallas. “After you, Spice.”
Wide-eyed, she stepped into a silent lounge that looked like it could have been in any upscale hotel. A fully stocked bar sat gleaming in the overhead lighting, with a dozen barstools lined up around it with military precision. The bar itself was flanked on either side by massive flatscreen TVs, both of which were muted but showing the stats of the upcoming game. To her immediate left stood a banquet table filled with warming trays and chafing dishes, and the warm, enticing scent of food hit her hard enough to make her drool. About half a dozen tables with cushy club chairs on rollers took up the middle of the lounge, with one table near the windows already set for two.
But it was the massive windows overlooking the ball field above home plate that stole the show. As hungry as she was, she couldn’t stop herself from migrating to the windows to look out at the stadium as it slowly filled with people, while the players down on the field warmed up.
“If you want to really get a feel for sitting in the stands, the sliding glass door to your right accesses the balcony outside, and you can sit out there to watch the game.” As he spoke, Killian went to the bar, ducked behind it for a second and resurfaced with a couple bottles of beer. “Whatever you want to do is fine with me. I want your first major league ballgame to be one you remember for the rest of your life.”
“No problem there.” She’d cracked open the glass door he’d mentioned to their very own private viewing box, thrilled at the sounds of a baseball stadium coming to life, before turning back to beam at him. “Everything I do with you is unforgettable.”
“Dallas.” Shaking his head as if he didn’t know what to do with her, he came over to hand her a bottle of beer, then took her by her free hand to the table already set for them. “It’s crazy how just a few words from you can turn me inside out. You’ve turned me into a fucking lunatic, yet I’m so far gone I don’t even care. Hungry?”
“Starving.” Though at that moment she honestly couldn’t say if she was hungrier for food or for him.
“Then I’d better feed you.” Setting his beer on the table, he took their plates and hit the chafing dishes. “You’re good with Caesar salad to start, yeah? Then I’ve got some authentic Texas twelve-hour smoked brisket with whiskey sauce and twice-fried potatoes. You can also have steamed broccoli if you want, but I fucking hate broccoli, so I’m personally giving that shit a skip. And to finish, we have chocolate-dipped strawberries and champagne on ice. But if you’ve got your heart set on Cracker Jacks, I can pick up the phone and—”
“You’re the most extraordinarily thoughtful man I’ve ever known.” She didn’t remember crossing the room. All she knew was that her arms were suddenly wrapped around him from behind, the need to hold him so intense it was almost like an anguish to bear. “I really thought I understood the world before I met you, you know? I thought it was made up of a few good people, a few bad people, and everyone else fell into the category of...nothing. Then I met you. You live your life passionately, all-out, with no fucks to give and no apologies to make, especially when it comes to protecting your family. You made me realize there’s another type of person that exists in the world—the dream-makers. That’s who you are, Killian. You take responsibility for all the people around you, and you work to make their dreams come true. That’s incredibly beautiful.”
“You called me Killian.” He put the plates down and turned in her arms, only to pick her up and sit her down next to the plates. “All bets are off when you call me Killian, Spice.”
She gasped when he pushed between her knees, and she gaze bounded in alarm to the massive wall of windows. “No, not here. Everyone can see in.”
“No one can see.” But her alarm had him taking a step back, and with a smile he swept an inviting hand toward the balcony. “Go take a look. This time of day, with all that bright sunshine out there, no one can see a damn thing in here.”
Confused—because she could see the outside clear as a bell from where she was standing—she left him to once again slide the balcony door open, but this time she stepped all the way out and moved to the cement and iron railing to look back.
Her smoky, warped reflection stared back at her, along with the equally smoky and warped mirrored image of the ballpark behind her.
What?
“One-way mirrored glass,” he said from inside the room, though she couldn’t see where he was. “Transparent on this side, reflective on the other.”
“Wow.” Anticipation made the air dry up in her lungs as she headed back inside, only to discover he’d moved to stand just inside the door. Waiting for her. “Makes you wonder what the designers were thinking when they installed this glass, doesn’t it?”
Reaching behind her, he slid the glass door shut. “I know what it’s got me thinking about.”
“What?” Like she didn’t know. The wetness between her legs spoke volumes. “What are you thinking about?”
“I’m thinking about how I’m going to enjoy fucking you right in front of two major league baseball tea
ms and thousands of their fans.” Eyes on her, his hand went to his belt buckle. “Take off your dress.”
“Killian.” Her shaking fingers undid the simple buttons down the dress’s front before she gave it conscious thought. “Has anyone ever told you that you might be a bit on the kinky side?”
“Don’t give a shit what you call it.” His shirt came off, then his boots and jeans. He paused to tug some condoms out of his pocket, kept one, then tossed the others onto a nearby table. “I’m fucking you while the whole world’s right there in front of us, but can’t touch us. No one can, because you and I are the only two people in this world who matter. Now get that damn dress off.”
It fell with a gentle rustle as her feet, leaving her in a mint green bra and matching thong. “It’s crazy how I keep getting naked with you whenever we’re together.”
“Yeah. It’s like a sign or something.”
“A sign of what?”
“That clothes are stupid when it comes to us, because we can’t keep our damn hands off each other.” His mouth came down on hers, and her head fell back as he kissed her so deeply she half-believed she could get pregnant from it. “You wet for me, Spice?”
At the words, the throb in her delicate folds swelled until she had to bite her lip to keep from panting out loud. “Goodness gracious, Killian. Are you suddenly too lazy to find out for yourself?”
“Woman, you are so damn spicy.” Delight sparked in his eyes a half-second before the stinging smack of his palm struck her ass cheek left bare by her thong, shocking a squeal of surprise out of her. “You can’t just mouth off like that without there being some kind of consequence.”
“You’re the one who’s going to pay for that.” The place he’d spanked prickled with a delicious tenderness, and she would have bet real money there was a glowing red imprint of his hand on her ass cheek. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why that made the place between her thighs ache that much harder, throbbing with sharp need. “And you will. Right after you do that again.”