Zander felt it too, she thought. He paused again, just like before, Erin’s back pressed up against the cabin wall, her legs around his waist. Unlike last time, however, he was leaning away from her, staring at her like she was the first ray of sunshine after a million days of rain.
“Are you okay?” she whispered, and Zander nodded, the movement sending another shiver through her as he shifted her, seating her more firmly on his shaft. She let her eyes close then, not only to savor the feeling more thoroughly, but because she couldn’t understand what she was seeing in Zander’s gaze. What had started as a ridiculous joyride in the sky was suddenly becoming much more serious, much harder to bear, and even though she never wanted to forget this moment, she didn’t know how to manage it. Didn’t know how to feel so much without giving everything inside her away, never to get it back.
And suddenly she wondered—what might it be like to be okay with that? What would it be like to really, finally put it all on the line, to risk it all, to pour herself body and soul into someone else because you knew that they would be willing to take everything you wanted to give, and still be ready for more? What if she gave herself like she used to give herself to her paintings, trusting the canvas to mirror back the chaos and excitement and passion and love and loss and everything that she had churning up inside of her, desperate to break free? What if she could…what if she would—
“Erin?” Zander’s voice sent a shiver through her, and Erin blinked up at him, swamped with both physical and emotional need so great she felt ready to burst into a million pieces. “I want to see your eyes, babe, when we do this. Can you do that for me?”
She nodded, unable to speak, and Zander didn’t bother with words any more, either. He just held on to her, both with his arms and with his gaze, stretching to kiss her lips tenderly, and moving slowly, gently, the position allowing the base of his shaft to strike up against her most sensitive point, over and over and over again, until her own mouth fell open, her breath coming more erratically now, her hands twisting against his shoulders, scrabbling for purchase as she wound higher and higher with him full and heavy inside her, unable to get full relief, unable to stop, unable to do anything but let him set the pace, the pressure, the movement, as he watched her reactions and timed his thrusts to leave her half gasping, half whimpering with need.
And then his cadence changed as well, as his own need built and she cried out, exhilarated as she felt him expand even more within her, his shaft flush and full and her body responding with more urgency and desperation. “Zander…,” she managed to say, feeling herself teetering right on the brink, right at the edge.
“Just go with it, baby. Just let yourself go,” Zander growled. “I’m going, I’m going, I can’t—”
They both shattered almost simultaneously, and Erin couldn’t tell where one of them began and the other one ended, so tangled and enmeshed were their bodies, their breathing, their pounding hearts and thudding pulse and skin and minds and…
She finally just went with it, trusting Zander, trusting herself, trusting this thing that was building inside her, impossible to ignore. She leapt out into the open air, and soared.
Chapter 27
Zander eyed Erin over the top of the brochure he’d picked up from the stack of materials “casually” strewn around the jet. She was passed out cold, curled up across two of the seats. They’d cleaned up in the luxuriously large bathroom, and that had started the whole cycle over again, so he supposed he could excuse her fatigue.
And having her passed out allowed him to relax in his own chair, shifting into a more comfortable position. He might have pushed it harder than he’d realized in Mexico, judging from the way his brain seemed to be too tight for his skull right now, but he wouldn’t have passed up the opportunity for the world.
He returned to the brochure, grimacing at its placement in the stack. Jackson didn’t know when to give up, and Zander just shook his head as his gaze slid down the page. The models pictured in glossy color looked too young, too unformed. How would he ever fit in again with that?
To hear his dad talk, William Frank James had known all his life that he’d been “meant” for military service, and that all his sons would follow in those footsteps, too. But if his dad had known he would only live to be fifty-five years old, what then? Would he have made different decisions when he was eighteen or twenty-two? Or thirty-two or forty? Zander honestly didn’t think so.
Then again, he wasn’t his father, either, and he never had been. He frowned at the brochure, reading it over for the fifty-seventh time. At this point, he could probably recite it from memory, but—
“Hey, what time is it?”
He flipped down the brochure to see Erin eyeing him from her curled-up position on the chair. “Good morning, sunshine.”
“It feels like morning.” She rocked herself into a seated position, running her fingers through her hair—which left it standing on edge, but still looking perfect. Everything about her looked perfect to him, but even the simple act of her opening her eyes shattered the quiet idyll he’d been savoring. It left him with a sense of impending doom, actually, like the plane they were on was about to crash into a mountain. He shrugged his shoulders, trying to relax the tension. “What’re you reading?” she asked.
“Stuff left behind by our hosts.” He held up the brochures, careful not to show her the last one. “Jackson Security. The guy who runs it knew my dad, and he floated a job offer to me.”
“Oh?” Erin’s face had that funeral-director look on it again he’d finally come to recognize—serene, compassionate. Expecting the worst, and ready to take it. “What kind of job?”
“Same kind of work that I’m doing now in the army, to some extent. High-level security teams that travel with important military cargo, making sure it arrives safely.”
“And would you like that?”
“Sure,” Zander said, easily enough, though a spurt of irritation threaded its way into his response. Wasn’t she going to comment on the fact that a job with Jackson Security meant he’d be coming back to Boston? Wasn’t that of any interest to her? A perverse, contrary emotion kept him going. “Of course, the army is good work, too. And I do it well.”
Erin had frozen momentarily at the harshness of his voice, then she started moving again, smoothing her shirt, the edges of the blanket. She looked at the blanket now, in fact, as if registering that it wasn’t part of her clothing, and started folding it up while she spoke. “Of course you do, Zander. I think you should keep doing whatever makes you happy.”
Her measured response hit him exactly the wrong way. “Yeah? Even if it means never seeing you again?”
And here it was. It’d snuck up on him, catching him at the knees when he’d least expected it. And he should have expected it. He’d been running on nerves and excitement for days, he’d just had sex—twice—after successfully completing an op, and he was coming down off the mother of all adrenaline spikes. It was high time that reality caught up with him and punched him in the face.
From the look of her, Erin realized it, too. She straightened in her seat, her chin coming up before she could force her gaze to meet his. When she started to speak, however, he rolled right over her. He just couldn’t, wouldn’t, listen to it. He didn’t know why he was so angry, but that emotion was there—big and in his face, and he was too damned tired and too damned hurt, and too damned everything to shut it down. “That’s what you’re gearing up for, isn’t it? What you’ve already worked out in your head? That the worst is going to happen and you might as well give up as try to do anything about it?”
“Zander, I—”
“Because I gotta tell you, Erin, what you did that night four years ago really was the worst thing that had happened to me, up to that point in my life. I wasn’t faking my reaction to it. The tears, I mean. You saw them, right? Tears streaming down my face when I realized in one crystal-clear moment just exactly what had happened, and what it meant? That you’d called the go
ddamned cops and I was going to get arrested and everyone was watching us, wondering what in fuck’s name had just gone down and you just stood there. Stood there. Stood there and gave up because the worst was crashing down around you and there was nothing you could do about it.”
He leaned forward, emotion burning in his gut. “Only you could have done something about it, Erin. But instead you turned away. Turned away! The supposed love of my life and you fucking turned away instead of putting it on the line for me, saying something—anything—and not just taking what life was giving you.” He sighed, his lips twisting. “Hell, it may not have mattered in the end, but you didn’t have to just give up.”
“I didn’t know what to do!” Erin’s voice seemed ripped out of her, and Zander sat back, startled by her intensity. She had clenched her hands into fists now, and it was her turn to lean forward at a sharp angle, looking so rigid that he thought she might break in two. “I didn’t expect them to come with lights and sirens and guns and cuffs. I didn’t expect to get you arrested, and to destroy your dreams and the dreams of your family. Oh, God, how they all must have just hated me. But I just…I expected there to be an ambulance, for Kevin to be taken care of and you to get home safe. But that didn’t happen!”
“That’s not an excuse.”
“I know it’s not an excuse!” Erin’s voice was crackling with pain, wavering now. “I screwed up and it was wrong. But I was just so mad at you! None of that had to happen—the race, the wreck. You pushed it to happen, and you didn’t listen to me—again! Every time I told you to slow down, to lay off, to cut it out. You never listened. No one ever listened to me! Not you, not my mom. I wasn’t enough. You just went on doing what you did, never giving a shit if anyone got hurt.”
“No one did get hurt, not really.”
“Yes they did!” Erin all but cried, but her voice was low, fraught, as if even now, about this, she wasn’t able to let herself be heard above a whisper. “I got hurt, Zander. I got hurt every time you rolled over me, every time I changed what I did, what I thought, because I thought you would like me better if I did so. I’d gotten used to my mother walking out on me, I was braced for that. But I couldn’t let you walk out, too. I tried everything I could to be the perfect girlfriend, and eventually all I could see was the danger, and it was like nothing I did or said was ever going to get through. My mom didn’t hear me, and you didn’t hear me. I used to think sometimes you got into your fast car or you started climbing some stupid pile of rocks or jumping off some cliff because you just didn’t want to listen to me. Eventually, I guess I stopped listening to myself, too.”
Erin shook her head and, like the crash of a long-awaited storm, the tears did come now. Giant, rolling, harsh ones, turning her face a florid red. “And I just wanted to be heard, Zander,” she said, her voice broken now, miserable. “I wanted to ground people, connect them to what really mattered, make them feel. Make them think. Whether it was on the canvas, or me just trying to communicate, I wanted to make that connection so badly.” Her mouth twisted into a grimace. “And when it came to the important stuff, when I wanted people like you—like my mother—to listen and be careful and just be safe, it was even worse. I wasn’t enough to reach either of you—I couldn’t keep you grounded. You both had to keep on running, always searching for the next rush, the next high, the next…something that wasn’t me. I wanted to connect,” she said again. “I guess I finally figured out that night, I just wasn’t any good at it.” She jerked her hand across her face, wiping the tears away. “And now I don’t even try.”
—
The captain’s comm device crackled, and Erin jumped. “Good afternoon, passengers, this is your captain speaking. We’re preparing for our initial descent into the greater Boston area.”
Erin was out of the seat and bolting for the bathroom before Zander could even move. Their pilot’s relentlessly cheerful voice followed her the entire way. “Please take this opportunity to gather up all of your remaining waste articles and hand them to Staff Sergeant James, then make sure you are seated in your chairs with your seat belts fully fastened.”
She slammed the door behind her, flipping on the water and letting it run over her wrists. My God, she never cried like that in front of anyone. She never cried like that period, other than when she had seen Mrs. James’s email. Mrs. James, who even now was probably wondering why Zander hadn’t been around for the past two days. Mrs. James, who had no idea that her son had been led into harm’s way not just once, but now twice—by her.
“Erin.” Zander rapped on the door. “You need to come out of there.”
“Just a minute.” There. Her voice sounded normal, sane even. Her face was streaked with tears, still, and she splashed more cold water on it, grabbing a thick cloth towel that was hanging from a hook and scrubbing her skin hard. By the time she pulled it away she looked like she’d ripped off the outer few layers of dermis, but her eyes were finally dry, at least, her lips no longer trembling. She looked more or less normal.
She had provided quite enough entertainment for one day; she didn’t need to be adding any more.
Zander didn’t say anything when she exited, just watched her carefully as she crossed the plush carpeting and settled into her seat. She held herself very still, waiting for him to speak, and when he didn’t, she drew in a long breath.
And then, of course, he spoke.
“They don’t know.”
That stopped her. She turned to him, frowning. “What?”
“My parents.” Zander was watching her with unreadable eyes, as if while she had been in the bathroom wiping off her face, he had been wiping off his expression. “I never told them how the police came to be there that night. They don’t know that you were the one who called 911.”
“But…” Erin could feel herself pale as she watched him, her hands clenching and unclenching in her lap. “But I did call, Zander,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “It was my fault.”
“Oh, I definitely wasn’t doing it for your benefit.” Zander’s lips twisted. “So don’t make me seem like some kind of hero. I wasn’t. I’m not. But at first, I still couldn’t believe you’d do something like that to me.” His lips twisted. “I mean, shit. I thought you loved me.”
Erin wanted to close her eyes, to curl up into a ball as tight as the fist she was now holding against her stomach. But she couldn’t. Zander was staring at her, demanding that she stare back. That was the least she owed him.
“When the police asked if I knew who made the call, I told them I didn’t. When my father showed up at the police station, he just looked at me. Looked at me with the kind of expression I’d seen too many times on his face. Like I was some kind of fuckup, some kind of idiot, too damned stupid to understand the consequences of my actions.”
He stared into the distance then, as if reliving the memory, and Erin’s stomach twisted again. She knew she should say something, wanted to say something. But other than “Sorry,” what could she say? And how did one say “Sorry” to someone whose life you’d upended because you were freaked out? Because you were scared and overwhelmed and maybe even secretly pissed off that your boyfriend was treating you no better than your mother did. You couldn’t. You just couldn’t.
“And it just didn’t seem right, you know. To say ‘Well, this other person got me into trouble. It’s not my fault.’ Because, of course, it was my fault. Even though I was safe, and I was always safe, Erin. That’s the part you never seemed to get.” He looked at her, and anger had seeped into his gaze now. “I knew precisely the limits to which I could push myself. I was a fucking champion at that.”
Her hands were aching now, she was holding them so tightly.
“But that night…you were right, Erin. You were right and I was wrong. I shouldn’t have raced Kevin that night; he was out of his head.”
“He was an idiot.” Erin sighed.
“And I put him at risk by racing him.” Zander’s voice had gone hollow now, as if that realizati
on was more than he wanted to think about. “I put you at risk, Erin. I put us at risk. And ultimately, because I didn’t understand you well enough, because I didn’t take the time to figure you out, I put myself at risk. If I’d just once stopped to think of how my actions were affecting you, why you were so stressed-out all the time, so nervous, I would have made the next logical conclusion. That you would snap. Do something. I don’t know. Leave me, maybe. Tell my dad.” His smile was wry. “Admittedly, I didn’t expect you to go all 911 on me, but I should have seen it. Would have seen it, if I hadn’t been so hell-bent on finding out whatever was around the next bend.”
“I should have told you,” Erin said, but her words were only a whisper. Zander shrugged.
“Yeah, well. Looks like there were a lot of things we should have told each other, but we didn’t. And now we have. But that’s good—it’s cleared the air. And I think we both needed that.”
Cleared the air. Zander’s words sounded final. Too final. With a loud thunk, the landing gear dropped from the base of the aircraft, and Erin’s gaze shifted to the far windows. They were low now, low enough to see the sprawling city and suburbs, the ocean stretching far out to the east. This morning, they’d been in Mexico…now they were home. This afternoon, she’d been wrapped around Zander’s body so tightly she didn’t think anything could break that bond, a perfect circle of strength. Now she just wanted to crawl away.
“What happens now?” she asked, pausing as the comm crackled to life again and their pilot gave instructions for landing.
“I suspect there will be a car waiting for you,” Zander said, deliberately misunderstanding her. “From what I have learned about Mr. Jackson, he doesn’t do anything by half. Is there someone staying with you at the brownstone right now? One of your renters?”
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