A Fortune's Children's Wedding

by Barbara Boswell

  “True. Brandon is not the sharpest knife in the drawer,” Flynt said resignedly. He poured each another glass of wine.

  They clinked glasses as the plane backed up and made a turn. Angelica nearly spilled her wine. She laughed, then hiccuped. And laughed again.

  “How many glasses have you had? And with no food.” Flynt arched his brows. “I think you’re about to be cut off, Angelica.”

  “I’ve had three glasses—or four? Now that you mention it, I do feel a bit of a buzz.” She tilted her head. “Do you hear that whirring sound or am I hearing a buzz too?”

  “I hear it.” Flynt’s eyes widened. The plane began to move faster. “I think…we’re getting ready to take off?”

  “What?” The seat belt restrained her from jumping to her feet. Angelica fumbled with the clasp, but Flynt reached over and took her hand.

  “Leave it fastened, Angelica. We are taking off.”

  The plane sped down the runway.

  “We can’t take off. Brandon isn’t on board!” cried Angelica, trying again to free herself from the seat belt.

  Flynt’s fingers closed over hers, preventing her from unclasping the buckle. “Honey, I’ve flown enough to know when we’re about to take off, and we are. Right now.”

  At that moment the plane lifted off the ground and began to climb.

  Angelica was stunned. “We left without Brandon?”

  “It looks that way. Unless he stowed away in the cockpit. Or maybe he stuffed himself in the refrigerator.”

  “It’s not funny, Flynt. What’s going on?”

  She posed that same question to the steward who reappeared a few moments later. Since he was walking around unrestricted, Angelica pushed Flynt’s hand away and unbuckled herself.

  She got up and went to peer out the window at the night sky and the lights sparkling on the ground below. They were in the air, all right, and were going higher.

  “Why didn’t we wait for Brandon?” she demanded. “Where are we going?”

  “We’re flying to Minneapolis, as planned, Miss Angelica,” the steward said calmly. “As for leaving without Mr. Brandon—well, he called to say that he intended to remain in Birmingham and for us to take off without him.”

  “Brandon is staying in Birmingham?” Angelica’s voice rose in a squeak. Her unexpected panic on hearing this news thoroughly confused her. She despised Brandon, so why would his non-appearance upset her so much? Bewildered and alarmed, she stared at Flynt.

  Who was looking none too pleased with the steward’s announcement.

  “He told you he wasn’t coming, and you listened to him?” growled Flynt. “I didn’t think anyone employed by the Fortune Corporation took orders from Brandon.”

  The steward cleared his throat. “Well, the pilot did check with Mrs. Kate before taking off. She’d apparently already talked with Brandon and agreed that he should stay in Birmingham and Miss Angelica should go on to Minneapolis. May I get you anything right now or—”

  “I want a parachute,” Angelica said grimly. “Something weird is going on and I want off this plane.”

  “I think we’re fine for now,” Flynt assured the steward who swiftly departed back to his own small area.

  Flynt stood up and joined Angelica at the window. He put his arms around her waist, clasping his hands to rest on her belly. “Don’t be afraid, Angelica. You—”

  “I’ve been hoodwinked!” She tried to wriggle away from him but he held firm and didn’t release her. “And I’m not afraid, I’m furious!”

  “At me?” Flynt nuzzled her neck.

  Her eyelids drooped as she drew a shuddery breath as ribbons of sensual heat streaked through her. She forced her eyes open and tried to stiffen her already too-pliant body.

  “Should I be, Flynt?”

  “Absolutely not. I swear I expected Brandon to join us.” Flynt ran his hands over her hips. She was wearing a neatly pressed khaki jumpsuit that fit her slender but curvy figure well. Very well.

  “Then I’m not mad at you.”

  She gave up her half-hearted struggle against leaning into him and did exactly that, relaxing her body against his, her head lolling back against his chest, her bottom nestled in the hard cradle of his thighs. He was big and strong and he seemed to surround her completely.

  But instead of feeling at risk and overwhelmed, she felt safe, protected. Flynt was the only man she had ever met who could comfort her, soothe away her anxiety. And right now he was her only ally in this strange new place she was being whisked away to.

  She reached her hand up to stroke his cheek. “I’m glad you didn’t decide to blow off the trip and leave me to face the Fortunes alone.”

  “Never, Angelica.”

  Flynt turned her around to face him. He gazed intently at her, his eyes drinking in the lovely features of her face. Her ivory-smooth complexion. Her luxuriant, almost ebony-black hair.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he blurted, his voice suddenly hoarse with emotion.

  “The Fortunes are going to think I’m trash.”

  Only to Flynt would she confess to feeling dread; she knew he wouldn’t use her apprehensions against her. Her lower lip trembled a little, and she caught it between her teeth to still it.

  Flynt stared, so turned on by the simple gesture that almost instantly his body was taut and straining.

  “They can’t, they won’t, because you aren’t, Angelica. You’re as classy and elegant and smart as any Fortune anywhere.”

  “When you say it,” she swallowed hard, her breathing quickening, “I can almost believe it.”

  “Believe it, Angelica. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

  His hands were moving over her possessively, touching her everywhere, her breasts, her hips, her buttocks. She felt tension build inside her, swirling through her belly, making her nipples harden into tight little beads.

  His erection surged against her, so male and foreign to her own body. So powerful. Yet no longer threatening but tempting instead.

  Angelica felt oddly disoriented, as if her words, her actions—even her feelings—were being scripted, and she had been cast to play the assigned role. Which she did, with passionate urgency. Running her hands over his hard frame. Melting with sheer pleasure, quivering with excitement.

  He covered her mouth with his and kissed her thoroughly. Angelica responded hotly, hungrily, need bursting within her like a flame swept by a gust of pure oxygen. All at once she was burning and shivering at the same time.

  Her control faltered and then she willingly abandoned it, giving herself permission to tug at his blue chambray shirt, pulling it from the waistband of his jeans so she could slide her hands under to touch his skin. She was emboldened as she’d never been before, driven by her need to feel him, flesh on flesh.

  When he lifted his mouth from hers, she nearly collapsed with frustration. She held on to the front of his shirt.

  “No, Flynt.” She hardly recognized her own voice. It was husky and velvety thick with desire. “This time we aren’t stopping.”

  He ran his fingers through her hair, tousling it even more. “Angelica, you know how much I want you.”

  “I think I hear a ‘but.’” Her heart jackhammered in her chest. She pressed her mouth to his throat and flicked her tongue against his skin, tasting him. “I hope not. I’d better not, Flynt.” She looked up at him, her dark eyes fierce and desperate.

  Holding her, Flynt slumped back against the wall of the plane, taking her weight against him.

  “I just need to know that you know what you’re doing, Angel. The wine…are you drunk? Because if you are…” His voice trailed off and he touched his forehead to hers. “I’d never hurt you, Angelica.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?”

  “Then tell me, Angel. Are you—”

  “Drunk?” She moved sinuously against him. “No, Flynt, I’m not.”

  “Not even a little dizzy?”

  His lips feathered hers in a series of light little kisses th
at were both stimulating and maddening because he wouldn’t kiss her the way she wanted him to, deep and slow and intimate.

  She did feel a little woozy, Angelica silently conceded, but she was sure it wasn’t the result of the wine. If she was drunk, it was with desire.

  “I’m dizzy because you’re making my head spin, Flynt,” she said.

  At that moment, the plane encountered a patch of turbulence. Angelica clutched him for balance. They stood pressed together, holding on to each other until the plane was once again cruising smoothly.

  She looked up at Flynt, laughter bubbling within her. Her head felt as if it was going to float right off her body. “That was exciting, like a ride at the county fair. Think it’ll jump up and down like that some more?”

  “I sincerely hope not. I make it a point to avoid rides that shake up your insides.”

  His eyes bored into hers. “But if it’s excitement you’re looking for… Ever hear of the Mile-High Club, Angelica?”

  She could smell the wine on his breath as he spoke, and his intense, focused-solely-on-her gaze was as enthralling as the feel of his body against hers.

  “I’ve heard of it.” A rush of unexpected jealousy assailed her. “Are you a member in good standing, Flynt?”

  “I’ve never been a member.” His expression was challenging her now. Daring her, tempting her.

  “Ever think of joining, Flynt?” She was deliberately baiting him and was pleased when he exhaled harshly.

  “Not until this particular flight.” His lips nipped playfully at hers. “What about you, Angel?” He unbuttoned her jumpsuit to the waist as he spoke, his fingers deft and quick. “Care to attain membership?”

  She gasped as his hand brushed the smooth satin of her bra, then reached inside the cup to take her nipple and squeeze, his fingers, his touch exquisitely gentle.

  A moan of quiet desperation sounded, and Angelica realized it had come from her. “Yes, Flynt.” She heard a faraway voice, her own voice, whisper, “Please.”

  Her arms were around his neck, and he smoothed his hand over her hip, over the curve of her bottom and lifted her high, draping it over his hip. She’d barely had time to adjust to this provocative angle when he boosted her up.

  Instinctively she wrapped both her legs around his waist.

  “That’s it,” he said, his voice softly, sexily encouraging.

  Savoring the intimacy of their position, craving even more, they kissed greedily, frantically.

  Angelica felt her insides soften and melt in hot liquid waves. She felt heavy and tight. Confined by too many clothes. She wanted something she’d never before experienced, the sensation and the freedom of bare skin against skin.

  Sensing her need, attuned to it, Flynt pushed aside the dark curtain and carried her into the small bedroom.

  Once inside, he set her on her feet beside the bed. Her hands went to the buttons of his shirt and she began to unfasten them, her hands trembling. Flynt helped her after she’d fumbled with the first two. Working together, they managed to discard his shirt swiftly.

  Angelica allowed herself the luxury of pressing her palms against the hard smoothness of his chest, running her hands over his heated skin. She traced the contours of his ribs, the shape of his nipples; her fingers followed the path of crisp dark hair arrowing down into his jeans.

  Daringly she slipped her fingertips beneath the waistband.

  Flynt inhaled sharply and went still. And then he trembled, uttering a deep groan. Angelica was enthralled with her power. She needed only to touch him, to hint at the possibility of more, and he went weak.

  And then Flynt caught her nape and pulled her to him, kissing her with a demanding possessive urgency, and she realized that she was the weak one. The needy one. Wanting him in a way she had never experienced, but somehow intuitively knowing that she needed him inside her, to be a part of her.

  He slipped the bodice of her jumpsuit off her shoulders, her arms, letting it fall to her waist. His hands cupped her breasts through her bra, holding them, testing their shape. The satiny fabric shifted and tightened, rubbing against her taut nipples, increasing their sensitivity even more.

  Flynt brushed his thumbs lightly over them, and she whimpered as sensual electricity bolted through her. He continued to draw slow, almost leisurely circles, barely touching her, and Angelica arched forward, needing more.

  His expression grew more intent and he traced the shadowy cleft between her breasts before unclasping the front clip of her bra. He quickly removed the soft snowy white garment and dropped it on the bed.

  Her breasts were free and bared to him and he closed his hands over them, caressing and massaging as fire coursed through her. They kissed, and her breasts rubbed his naked chest, the erotic friction sending her higher.

  She felt his lower body throbbing against her, and a powerful curiosity drove her to lay her hand against his belly. Her face was flushed with embarrassment mingled with need.

  Her hesitancy cued Flynt to clasp her wrist and guide her hand lower.

  Through the denim of his jeans, she felt him, his heat, his hardness. She impulsively flattened her hand against him and her fingers learned the shape of him, the weight and thickness.

  Inspired, she tried to unbutton the top metal button of his fly. She couldn’t do it and moved to the zipper. The same bad luck plagued her there.

  “They’re both stuck,” she mumbled, exasperated.

  Flynt gave a rumble of laughter. “Let me help you out here.”

  He rid himself of his jeans and navy cotton knit boxers in what seemed like a millisecond.

  “You’re good at this,” she observed, feeing suddenly shy.

  “At undressing myself? Well, I started early. I was about two, I guess.”

  “You know what I mean.” Her temper flared. “You have no trouble at all undressing in—with—” She paused and heaved a sigh, unable to sustain that indignant flash. “You know what I mean, Flynt.”

  “I’m no bedroom Olympian, if that’s what you mean, Angelica.” He took her hand. “And I’ve never wanted a woman as much as I want you.”

  She wrapped her fingers around his rigid sex and felt the hot flesh pulsing.

  Dazed, she was hardly aware as he slipped her jumpsuit over her hips, taking her underwear with it. They pooled around her feet, and he picked her up and deposited her on the bed.

  Lying beside her, he took his time with her, exploring her curves, the hollows, the rounded softness, his hands tracing a path of heat that conversely made her shiver.

  He splayed his fingers as his palm glided over her belly, his fingertips brushing the lush tangle of dark curls at the apex of her thighs. Their eyes locked.

  She knew he was seeking her permission to continue, and she loved him for his consideration, for his willingness even now, at this crucial stage, to put her wishes before the powerful urge driving him.

  She knew she would never have to be afraid of him using his strength against her, she loved the way he—

  It took a moment for Angelica to catch up with her own thoughts.

  She loved him!

  She drew a swift, gasping breath. She’d said it in her mind yet the realization hadn’t fully registered until this moment. She loved Flynt for his consideration, true, but for so much more as well.

  She loved being with him, no matter where or when. She would’ve never thought it possible to actually enjoy a man’s company—her beloved brother Danny excepted, of course—but she would rather be with Flynt than with anyone else.

  Because they could talk about anything, even terrible things, and reach an understanding, because they shared the same sense of the ridiculous and could laugh together.

  He was fun and intelligent and ambitious; she admired him. She didn’t think it immodest to believe that he valued similar traits in her.

  She had never thought of herself as looking for a man—that fabled female search for Mr. Right had always struck her as misguided—but Flynt had come into he
r life, anyway. And turned out to be the man she hadn’t known she was waiting for.

  I love you, Flynt, she thought. The words pounded in her head in rhythm with her heartbeat. She thrust her hips against him, and his probing fingers stroked her, finding her center.

  She moaned as his touch became more insistent, bolder, exciting her beyond reason. Something shimmered and beckoned, something wild and fiery, and she closed her eyes, her head moving back and forth, reaching, reaching…

  “Just go with it, Angel,” he said. His voice urged her on, encouraging her. “I’ve got you. Let it happen.”

  She moved with him in counterpoint and her entire existence narrowed to pure sensation. Her body twisted and arched, in his control, out of hers, and she didn’t care.

  “Come on, sweetheart,” he ordered, his voice a deep and sexy command. “I want you to.”

  She felt herself soaring, she felt wild and primal and free. She cried his name as she shattered, overpowered by rapturous release.

  Angelica clung to him until the final fluttering contractions faded into a sweet glowing warmth.

  She lay curled against him, feeling languid and liquid and utterly amazed.

  He slowly withdrew his fingers and kissed her lips tenderly, lingeringly. Angelica opened her eyes and found him watching her.

  She blushed. And felt a stunning urge to burst into tears.

  “Angelica?” He stared at her more intently.

  “I want you, Flynt.” Her voice was raw and trembled with emotion.

  She tangled her fingers in his hair and drew his mouth to hers. He rolled on top of her, and they kissed, lips parting, tongues teasing, tasting each other, relishing the flavor, the intimacy.

  Lying beneath him, her thighs shifted and opened, making a place for him. Flynt felt the wet heat of her against him, and thought he would explode right then and there.

  With a deep sigh, summoning up his considerable self-control, he moved away from her and sat up.

  “Flynt!” She called his name, sounding confused and urgent and frustrated as hell.