by S. L. Scott
* * *
I’M STANDING AT the entrance to the airplane, anxiously waiting. There’s been no sign of Reese and she hasn’t called or answered her phone. I got one text telling me to go to Paris even if she doesn’t make the flight.
“Sir,” the flight attendant taps me and says, “we need you to board. This is the final boarding call.”
I look down at the text once more: I’ll see you in Paris. I promise.
I board per her wish and settle into the first class seat. Just as I power off my phone, a flurry of commotion happens at the entrance to the plane. I look up to see Reese coming toward me. She flops down in the seat next to me and tucks a large purse under the seat. She’s radiant. Wild hair, bright eyes, casual clothes. She says, “I quit.”
I look at her in shock. And awe. My pride in her taking over my tone. “You did?”
“I did.” She’s nodding and exuberantly giddy.
“What about your responsibilities?”
“I’m seeing this campaign through. We’re going to get the shots we need and then… I don’t know. I have some savings. Not much, but some. I’ll come back and find a new job.”
Taking her hand in mine, I lean back. “And you did this for?”
“For me. For us. For my soul. God, I feel so good right now.” She looks at me with a new hope I haven’t been privy to since we laid eyes on each other in that first meeting back in LA. “What a weight lifted.”
But beneath the relief she’s feeling, the high she’s riding, I start to wonder how she’s going to feel when she comes down. “What happened?”
“I told him. I told him everything.”
“Be more specific, Reese.” I try to keep the sternness out of my voice, but through her hope, I can’t help but think I’m going to be the reason she loses it.
The flight attendant makes us pause. I order water and Reese orders wine. She turns to me, and laughs. “You should have seen the look on his face, Danny. You would have been so proud of me.”
“I was already proud of you. Now please tell me what happened.”
“I went back to the office and told him how I really feel about him. Then I told him I’ll finish this campaign and gave my two-weeks’ notice.”
It would be easy to get swept up in her delight, but my instincts regarding a man like Keaton Klein are usually spot-on. With dread entering my stomach, I ask, “How did he react to that?”
“I don’t even care anymore. He’s controlled me for too long. I felt I had no options, no outs. I bought my apartment because I had that job and security. But over time I realized he wasn’t going to just let me go. It didn’t even matter that he didn’t want me. I was just this thing he didn’t want anyone else to have either.”
“If he wants you, he’s not going to let you go that easily.”
“He doesn’t have a choice. Once I realized I could sell the apartment, I saw that I have options. I don’t want to be tied down by stuff when I can be living a fuller life. I don’t need that job. I can find another.” She touches her chest. “I have control of my life again. Danny, we can be together. I can live anywhere. We should be celebrating. Isn’t this what you wanted?”
“I want all that. I want you to be happy. I never want him around you again—”
“I’m not going to be after this campaign and that makes me happy. Being here with you makes me happy. A future full of possibilities scares the shit out of me, but I’m happy because I need to be scared. I need to be challenged again. I need to start living my dream.”
“What do you dream of?”
“I dream of you.”
“You don’t have to dream of me. I’m right here. I’m yours already. I always was.” Leaning over the armrest, I kiss her on the forehead and hold her hand a little tighter. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. So much.”
Sitting back when the attendant returns with our drinks, I can’t ignore my gut. This is gonna blow back in our faces. If there’s one thing I learned about her ex, it’s that he’s not afraid of the low blow. The fucking weasel.
CHAPTER 30
~Reese~
“WE’RE MAKING OUR descent.”
I open my eyes to find Danny rubbing my leg gently to wake me. I stir, feeling groggy. “I only meant to close my eyes for a minute.”
“Being a badass heartbreaker takes energy.”
His smile warms me so I reach up and adjust the air vent above my head, hoping to cool down before he notices. Massaging my temples eases the pain in my head, a headache forming.
He asks, “How are you feeling?” I hear the trepidation in his voice.
“I’m fine,” I reply resting my hand on his thigh, wanting to touch him more, but knowing now is not quite the right time. Later. Most definitely later. “Why do you sound so worried? Everything with the shoot is still moving forward.”
“I’m not worried about me, Reese. I’m worried about you.”
“Why?”
“Because I think you acted spontaneously last night.”
“I thought you’d be happy? He’s out of our life now.”
“His firm is still in charge of this shoot. And Klein doesn’t seem like the type of guy to let it go. I shouldn’t have hit him. Twice. But he provoked me. I just hate that I lost my temper at all. He’s not worth it.”
“He was demeaning, Danny.”
He chuckles. “I’m not naïve. I know how people feel about models. They only look at the surface. No pun intended. But I take my job seriously, and it’s given me a life I couldn’t otherwise experience or afford. But more than that, I respect everyone who’s a part of this industry. I’ve met a lot of great people because of modeling. So when he demeans me, he’s demeaning all of them. And that’s why I hit him. Twice.”
“It was hot.”
“What?” He looks my way smiling.
“You hitting him. It was hot. And the hotness doesn’t come from the fact it was him you hit. It was the way the suit was taut around your biceps and how your eyes were set on him. He didn’t stand a chance against you. Reminded me of college.”
“Of all the things I’ve tried to remind you of, that wasn’t meant to be one of them. I’m getting too old for that shit. I’m supposed to be maturing.”
“Oh, you’ve matured,” I say, sliding my hand higher up his leg. “Yes, indeed.”
“Are you drunk?”
“No,” I answer, wondering why he asked that. “Why?”
His eyes are narrowed, but his lips are amused. “You’re just so… not like you.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“No. It’s a good thing. And you’re like you, but not like the Reese you put on for work. The business you.”
“The business me?” Now I’m squinting my eyes, puzzled. “I didn’t know I was putting on anything. You make it sound like I’m not fun. I’m fun. Tons o’ fun.”
Pointing, he laughs. “That. See? Right there. Tons o’ fun. What is that?”
“I don’t know. Just popped in my head and I said it.”
“That’s what I mean. Usually you don’t say anything unless it’s carefully crafted and then presented with caution and care.”
“I don’t craft what I say.” Wait, do I? Damn, he might be right. I think I might actually craft what I say. “Not much anyway.”
He smiles and takes my hand that has been very touchy feely. “You’re making me hard. Unless you plan to follow through right the fuck here in first class, let’s hold off.”
Why is it so hot when he swears from sexual frustration and sexual release? Just everything sexual. It’s even hotter when he’s swearing. “I’m willing to follow through right the fuck here. If you want me to.”
“Drugs?”
I hit him, and as he laughs blocking the second hit, I say, “No, I’m not on drugs either. Geez, you make me sound awful.”
Lifting the armrest up, he then wraps his arm around me and pulls me as close as he can. “I don’t mean it like that at all. I
find you incredibly sexy whether you’re in business mode or not, so don’t take it the wrong way. I’ve only gotten glimpses of the carefree Reese since seeing each other again. I got her in Marfa.”
The memories of Marfa make me smile. “You did.” I sit up as the plane touches down. “I’m happy. I feel more alive with that noose no longer around my neck.”
“For the record, Reese, I like every side that smiles.” With that million-dollar smile of his own, he says, “And if the offer for the right the fuck here is still open, I’m game.”
The plane comes to a stop at our gate and I shrug, feigning indifference. “I’m afraid the offer’s expired.”
Leaning over, he puts his lips against my ear, and whispers, “I’ll take a rain check.” He leaves me with a kiss to my neck and sits back in his chair like that didn’t send a surge of sex-tricity throughout my entire body. It did. It sooo did.
At baggage claim, because our closeness has become obvious to everyone—Bryker, Becs, Claudia—we don’t bother hiding our feelings any longer. Danny takes hold of my hand while we’re waiting for our luggage to come down the belt. I glance at him, but don’t pull my hand away. Instead, I squeeze it, holding his just as tight.
Forty-five minutes later, Danny stands with the others in the lobby of our hotel in Paris while I settle the rooms. After giving keys to Bryker, Becs, and Claudia, they leave, and I say, “I just saved the company money.”
“How’s that?”
“We’re staying together. You’re stuck with me now.”
“I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be stuck with than you.”
“You say the sweetest things, Mr. Weston,” I reply, shaking my derriere for him as I walk to the elevators.
“Speaking of amazing asses—”
“We weren’t speaking of asses.”
“We are now, and yours is the best. Shake it for me, baby.”
I do. I shake my ass with sass just because he asked. It’s not the same ass I had in college so I’m glad he likes it so much, and I’m happy to indulge his wish.
Upon entering the room, I release a deep breath, the weight of everything gone from my shoulders, and my heart. It feels good to be free. It feels great to be with Danny. I flop down on the bed and close my eyes. “I slept, but I’m so tired.”
“We should stay awake to get on the current time.”
I roll onto my side and prop my head up on my hand. Watching him move around the room, I smile as he puts our suitcases together by the wardrobe. I decide to tease, though it’s really a tease wrapped in truth. “You’re too good-looking. You know that?”
“I’ve been told.”
I’m reaching for the pillow to throw at him but he lands next to me and traps my arms above my head before I have a chance. “You want to play?” I know he means a pillow fight, maybe tickling, being silly, but there’s this undertone that speaks directly to my lower half, causing my hips to seek out his. He hovers over me and there is no fight. I want him. I just do. From his body to his charm, his jaw to his jokes, his abs to his sincerity—everything about this man turns me into a sex fiend. But more than the physical, our hearts speak the same language. “You make me feel, Danny.”
“Feel what?” he whispers, kissing my shoulder.
“Everything, all at once.”
A kiss is placed on my neck. “Is it too much?”
“Always too much… and never enough.” My eyes drop closed and I murmur, “Never enough.” How did I live without this? How did I live without him? For years after I left, I thought I saw him. A man on the street. A dark-haired guy in line at the grocery store. I thought he would come. But it seems our heartache morphed into stubbornness or forgetfulness. His life was exciting, his fame growing. He moved on without me being a part of it. I looked at the magazines. I looked at him online. My life was a stark boring contrast to the glamorous world he lived in. I worked my ass off for years for the simplest praise, for measly pay raises, to build a name for myself in advertising.
Ironically, our lives have been so intrinsically connected, but our love disjointed, pushed to the bottom of our priorities. Buried. I buried myself in work so the pain and tears wouldn’t bury me. Living in a state of perpetual denial, I denied us and the memories that haunted me. I closed my heart to that part of my soul and moved to New York.
My achievements were hollow until Vittori allowed me to venture into the past, to remember, to allow that opening. How did I survive without his arms around me, without him? What was once hollow is now overflowing with feelings—happiness, love, peace. Lying in his arms, I realize how foolish it had been to think I could ever be without him. There is no me without him and by how he’s looking at me, there’s no him without me.
He was the missing piece of my soul.
He’ll be forever in my heart.
He’s forever mine.
And I his.
His lips meet mine in a turn of passion, my breast kneaded as my breath is stolen. There’s no need for foreplay. Our hips clashing unbridled, needing more, craving the feel of him completing me again.
My shirt is tugged up and my bra down. His mouth covers one of my nipples, lavishing me with his tongue, making me moan. Reaching down, I tug at his belt and win the battle before tackling the button and zipper. A shadow scraps across my breast as his chin grazes me, spiriting my desires to the surface. “Danny,” I whisper, too weak under this sexual spell to summon more.
He’s freed, commando under his pants. My hand wraps around his length—soft skin over hard muscle. Hard for me. My body relaxes for his, under the influence of how much we turn each other on.
My jeans are unbuttoned just as quickly, the zipper lowered. His hand is in my pants before I can catch my breath. Pillow talk turns dirty. “You’re so wet for me. You want me inside you?”
“So much.”
His lips are at my ear. Strong fingers begin working me over just where I want him most. “Do you like me fucking you with my fingers like this?”
“Yes. That. So much.” My head tilts back, my mind going fuzzy in the sensations.
But then he stops, and asks, “Or do you want me to fuck you properly?”
I just want to come. God. So much. Too much. Too much of everything with this man. A breath steadies my mind, allowing me to think. “How do you want to fuck me?”
“From behind.”
If I weren’t lying down already, I’d surely collapse under his certainty. “I want that.”
The right side of his mouth slides up. On anyone else, the half-grin would come off as sinister, conniving, or devious. On Danny, it makes me not only want to rip his clothes off and mine, but burn them so we stay naked like this forever. “I want that,” I repeat for no reason than I must be losing my senses again. He does that to me.
“So to be clear. You want me to fuck you from behind?”
“Good Lord.” My bottom lip is bit. “Why is that so hot?”
“What?”
“You talking to me like that.”
His eyes are set on mine. His voice is steady and assured. “Everyone else treats you like you’re breakable. I treat you how you like to be treated—fuckable.”
“Danny, fuck me. I don’t even care with what. I just need you inside me.”
He chuckles.
Inhaling a deep breath in protest, I do not approve of the lack of him touching me.
Sliding off the bed, he strips off the rest of his clothes before turning his attention back to me. Taking off first my flats, and then my jeans, he watches me while I take off my shirt and bra. My breathing is harder than I like, but I don’t feel self-conscience in front of him. Not when he’s standing there looking at me like I’m the air he needs to breathe, the food that sustains him, the water that keeps him alive. He looks at me like no man other than him has ever looked at me. I’m pinned to the bed under his scorching gaze and my heart pounds in my chest, beating for him as I wait.
The suspense is making me squirm as he centers h
imself on top of me. The weight of his body is sweet pressure, mine adapting to keep him exactly where he is. He asks, “Do we need condoms?” His question doesn’t make me think of the lives we lived apart. Like most would think. He’s genuine. His question is just as protective of me as it is him, if not even more so.
“I trust you,” I reply. “Do you trust me?”
“I do,” he says, and kisses me. “I trust you.” Readjusting his body, his lips part as I reach up running the tips of my fingers over the rough growth covering his jaw.
Spreading my legs, he takes over the space unapologetically. My hands glide over his muscular shoulders and I hold on knowing our connection is going to intensify. Before he has a chance to move, I say, “Go slow.”
With a smirk, he replies, “I thought you wanted fast.”
“I meant with us.”
Understanding sparks in his eyes. He pushes my hair back then holds my face. “I’ll go as fast or slow as you want, baby. I’ll let you lead.”
His eyes are too intense, his feelings long escaped into emotion. Looking away, I focus on the space between our chests. “Stop being so perfect.”
“It comes naturally.”
“That’s what worries me.”
“Reese, look at me.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.” When I finally look up, I’m met with his melting browns—clear, shining, and seductive. “I’m not perfect. Don’t fool yourself. But what I am is sure that we’re good together. We always were.”
“Then why didn’t we make it the first time?”
“We weren’t ready.”
“Ready for what?” I wait with bated breath.
“Ready for forever.”
Ready for forever.
I lower my eyes, the impact of his words striking me in the heart.
Ready for our forever.
God, how I love this man. I take his face in my hands, lifting up until our lips meet. His plush. Mine determined. His patient. Mine rushing. We’re balanced in the simplest of pleasures. When we part, I sigh contented. With our lips still touching, I say, “I’m going to turn over.”