Beyond These Walls (The Walls Duet #2)

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Beyond These Walls (The Walls Duet #2) Page 12

by J. L. Berg


  “Good. Whoa! There’s a bed back here!”

  I turned and found her blushing. Apparently, she’d just realized all the fun things that we could do with a bed mid-flight.

  I felt my body harden at the mere sight of that red stain across her cheeks.

  Calm. Must stay calm.

  We couldn’t be horizontal when the flight took off, and I planned on at least feeding her before fucking her. After last night, we both needed strength.

  Good God . . . last night.

  Making love with Lailah always filled a dark hole in my heart. Each time our bodies came together, I’d feel whole, alive, and completely connected to her.

  There was nothing more I needed. Nothing felt lacking, and until yesterday, I hadn’t realized that I’d been holding back. It wasn’t that I had been rougher or different with others in the past. It was simply the fact that, with Lailah, I’d always want more because she meant more.

  It hurt to admit that to myself, knowing how intensely I’d once loved another. But I knew I couldn’t live in the past. I’d never know what my life would have been like if Megan and I hadn’t visited Los Angeles and never attended that fateful party. All I knew was, I’d somehow been given a second chance with Lailah, and I’d fallen so deeply in love with her that I couldn’t imagine living any other way now.

  But seeing her fear that something might be missing between us couldn’t be any further from the truth, yet I’d still held back when we made love.

  When you’d seen the person you loved nearly die, the feelings, the fear, etched itself permanently in your psyche. Even though I knew logically that she was healthy, even though the doctor had told me she had a clean bill of health, I found myself filled with doubt—doubt that she’d take a turn for the worst, doubt that something would go wrong and she’d leave me much too soon.

  As scary as it was to admit, I didn’t think I could survive without her.

  So, she was correct. I would use caution and act a tad irrationally when it came to her health. I couldn’t help it.

  But I also wanted to give her everything.

  And, fuck, my every fantasy had been wrapped up in a pretty little package while watching her fall apart beneath me as I showed her exactly how little restraint I could have. She was stunning every second of the day, but seeing her like that had been breathtaking. The echoes of her cries as she’d begged for more had been replaying through my head in an endless loop, and I had every intention of recreating that scene in a dozen different places over the next few weeks.

  “You’ve got that dopey, faraway look in your eyes,” Lailah said, bending down to catch my gaze.

  I smiled, taking in her features, as she stared at me with a goofy grin. Her hair was piled high on her head in a sloppy bun, and not a trace of makeup graced her flawless skin. It was such a stark difference from the woman I’d watched walking down the aisle yesterday, yet it was still so beautiful.

  When she was like this, I could see the Lailah I’d fallen in love with. When she’d walked down that aisle yesterday, I had seen the woman she’d become along the way.

  “They’re just dopey because I’m thinking about you,” I answered, tugging on her hand to pull her into the seat next to me.

  We were going to take off soon, and I knew we would need to be buckled in.

  “Ready to go to . . .” she asked, expectantly looking at me.

  “Oh, no. I’m not telling you now. I haven’t planned and plotted this long to screw it all up in the last inning.”

  “Fine.” She folded her arms across her chest, and her lips jutted out into a ridiculous pout.

  I shook my head, leaning back to close my eyes, as we waited to take off.

  She’d forgive me once we landed.

  I hoped.

  I usually found plane rides uneventful and dull, just endless hours to fill with mindless nothingness. I’d try to work, but I’d never manage to get anything accomplish. I’d pick up a book but get annoyed by the snoopy person next to me who felt the need to read over my shoulder or talk about how he or she had just read and loved something similar. The movie selection was always horrible, and I was a picky sleeper, never able to find the correct position to drift away for a few precious hours of the flight.

  But that was all before I’d found the perks of having Lailah with me . . . on a private plane.

  Now that I had, I didn’t think we’d ever fly commercial again.

  Nope, I was officially spoiled.

  After a breakfast fit for a king, I proposed we head to the bedroom for a nap. My eyebrows might have suggestively waggled a tad. Lailah looked at me before her eyes quickly darted to the flight attendant as she cleaned up our dishes.

  Trained to remain invisible unless acknowledged, Brie was used to attending to rock stars and billionaire businessmen. I was sure the wealth of secrets she had locked away was endless and worth a fortune. But being the professional she was, she remained quiet and courteous, disappearing in the back to finish her duties.

  “Oh my gosh! Now, she knows we’re going to be in there . . . you know!”

  “No, I don’t know. Could you be a little more descriptive, Lailah?” I grinned, leaning back in my chair.

  “You suck!” she declared, swiftly rising from her seat to pace across the room.

  “Oh, come on! She’s probably seen it all—and then ten times worse than that. She flies with celebrities. We’re probably the most boring flight she’s been on in decades. We need to go in there and have loud monkey sex just to liven things up a bit for her.”

  Lailah turned, blankly looking at me. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “About what? The celebrities? No, I’m dead serious. I think Maroon Five was in here last week.”

  Her mouth gaped for a minute before she shook her head.

  “No, you dork! Not the celebrities—although we’re coming back to that. You seriously just suggested we have sex . . . for our stewardess?”

  I laughed. This was fun. “I don’t think the PC term is stewardess anymore. I believe they are called flight attendants now.”

  “I’m going to kill you.”

  “With sex?” I grinned. I jumped from my seat to stalk toward her.

  “No, I’m thinking bare hands right now,” she answered. She tried to show anger, but all that came through was a dorky smile.

  “All I got from that sentence was bare, so I’m assuming you agree to the sex.”

  Her eyes went wide as I stood in front of her. Both of us were primed for attack, but we waited for the other to take the first move.

  “What? Jude, no!”

  I beat her, bending forward and swiftly hoisting her over my shoulder. It was a bit of a crazy move for a plane in the middle of a flight, but whatever. She was playing difficult, and I had plans—and only four more hours of airtime to execute them.

  WELL, THAT DEFINITELY hadn’t been on my list.

  But if it had, I’d be checking Become a member of the mile-high club off at this very moment.

  I was pretty sure we’d obtained some frequent-flier miles as well.

  Wowza.

  I shook my head, chuckling under my breath. I shut the water off and stepped out of the shower.

  Who takes a shower on a plane?

  Well, I just did!

  When Jude had woken me up before the crack of dawn this morning, I’d figured it was because we had some ridiculously early commercial flight to catch—probably first-class, knowing Jude. I’d thought I’d be stuck sitting next to some businessman who huffed and puffed every five seconds about one thing or another while the rich kid behind me kicked my chair. I hadn’t flown much, but I’d watched a lot of movies and TV, so between my few experiences and vast knowledge of how media depicted airline travel, this was how I’d expected our day to go.

  Movies hadn’t prepared me for reality.

  Heck, reality hadn’t prepared me for this.

  Who rents a private jet to fly two people to . . . well, wherev
er we are going?

  My husband—that’s who.

  I’d met him as a nursing assistant who had little to nothing and watched him grow into Jude Cavanaugh, heir to a financial dynasty, yet he hadn’t changed—not where it mattered.

  Back in the days when he had worn scrubs and checked vitals for a living, he still would have given me anything.

  He had actually.

  He’d brought me pudding cups during every lunch break he had. When I had been sick, he’d even taken unpaid days off to stay in my room and nurse me back to health even though others had tried to kick him out. And when the insurance company had turned me down, he had given up everything to get my new heart.

  Today, he wasn’t any different. Money hadn’t changed him. I guessed it just allowed him more resources and ways to channel that need to constantly provide. He always said his father had been a great provider. Maybe that was where Jude had gotten the unwavering drive.

  I just didn’t want to see the money change me. I never wanted to be the type of person to expect a certain way of life. If we were fortunate enough to live like this for the next twenty years, I hoped stepping onto a private plane would always bring a sense of wonder and never dull in my eyes.

  I was just finishing blow-drying my hair when a knock came on the bathroom door.

  I opened it and found Jude’s handsome face staring back at me.

  “We’re going to land soon. You almost ready?”

  Excitement sprang forward as I realized I’d finally discover the spot of our mystery honeymoon location.

  “Yes, let me just repack some things.”

  I turned, but his hand quickly grabbed my wrist, halting me mid-step. Before I had the chance to ask what he was doing, his mouth engulfed mine, quick and hard, before he walked away.

  I was nearly dizzy.

  I stumbled back into the bathroom before throwing things into my toiletries bag. I brushed through my hair one final time. A quick glance in the mirror told me I looked adequate, so I headed back out and joined Jude.

  A sly grin adorned his face as I slid down next to him.

  “What?” I asked, wondering why he appeared so smug.

  “Remember after the third or fourth orgasm, you said something about being so out of breath that your throat was going dry?”

  My mind replayed to our time in the tiny airplane bedroom. He’d tasked himself with determining just how many times I could orgasm in a row. After four, I’d moaned and writhed so much that my throat was nearly raw. He still hadn’t shown me mercy.

  “Yes,” I replied.

  He produced a bottle of water from his jacket and handed it to me as I looked at him with questioning eyes.

  “It’s from Brie, our flight attendant. She told me to give it to you.”

  Blood rushed up to my cheeks as I contemplated the likelihood of my survival rate if I jumped out of the plane now. I must have sat there too long because Jude finally broke the silence with a boisterous deep laugh.

  “I’m kidding. I asked for it before you went into the shower. She’d never do such a thing.”

  My breath began to return to normal as I shot laser beams into him with my eyes.

  “Even if you were louder than a banshee.”

  “So mean,” I said, unable to stop the laughter that was bubbling up.

  “So, you forgive me?” he asked, taking my hand in his.

  “No.”

  “What if I told you to turn your head and look out the window?”

  My eyes widened, realizing we’d already begun our initial descent while he had been busy with distracting me. It had probably been his plan all along.

  As I whipped my head around, I saw it for the first time.

  I still had no idea what it was, but from above, I was already in love.

  Covered in snow and ice, it looked like he’d taken us to the North Pole itself. Tiny colored houses dotted the landscape. It was so unlike anything I’d seen in the US.

  “Where are we?” I asked, turning back to see him hunched forward, peering out below.

  “Iceland.”

  “Oh my gosh, Jude!” I hugged him, hating the awkward armrest separating us.

  “It’s only our first stop—of many,” he said against my shoulder.

  “There’s more?”

  “Well, you don’t think I’m keeping you here for three weeks? You’d freeze.”

  I laughed a giddy, happy laugh, nearly clapping my hands together like a child, as I leaned forward to watch the scenery grow bigger and bigger. It was someplace I’d never even imagined going.

  “Why Iceland?” I asked, looking out at the vast mountains.

  “Well, it’s simple really. I used logic when picking all the destinations for this trip. You have your Someday List. You created it and believed that, someday, if you ever got out of the hospital, you’d accomplish all these things to make you normal, and I think we’ve been doing a damn good job of knocking some things off of that list—even if we’ve waned in our attempt recently. But for this trip, I didn’t want you to feel normal. We can go back to finding you a mortgage or flagging down taxis when we get back. There will be nothing normal about this trip. For the next three weeks, we’re going crazy.”

  “Starting with a trip to Iceland,” I stated excitedly.

  “Yeah. Why not? How many people do you know who have been to Iceland?”

  “None.”

  “Exactly. Get ready, Lailah. For the next few days, we’re exploring the land of fire and ice.”

  Iceland was well named.

  As soon as we deplaned, I was slapped in the face with arctic temperatures that New York had yet to reach this winter. It wasn’t nearly as cold as I had assumed based on the snowy scenery I saw when flying in. It reminded me of some of the more chilly nights I’d experienced since moving to the East Coast when temperatures had dropped and our heaters had worked overtime. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if the Midwest was just as cold as it was here.

  Note to self: Never move to the Midwest.

  Jude and I huddled together as our luggage was pulled from below the plane and transferred to the car taking us to the hotel. We had landed in Reykjavík, the capital of Iceland, but Jude said our hotel was a bit farther down the coast, away from the city.

  The driver greeted us with a nod and wave before opening the doors, so we could quickly hop inside. He joined us, sitting in the front and sliding down the partition.

  “Hello, welcome to Iceland,” he greeted in his thick Icelandic accent.

  “Thank you!” we both responded.

  “Sorry for the cold. It’s supposed to warm up tomorrow if you’re wishing to explore.”

  “That’s good to hear,” I said, rubbing my mittens together as I wondered what warm meant to Icelanders.

  I’d thought Jude had requested Grace to buy the winter gear as a joke to throw me off from the real destination, but it had turned out that I really needed it after all. Now, I wondered about the bikini. Was that a ruse? Or would I need that eventually as well?

  Silently, I watched the country pass by as Jude and the driver spoke. I passively listened, hearing their conversation, as the mountains and sea whipped passed my window.

  Car rides had been such an infrequent thing for me as a child. I remember spending them with my face glued to the glass, peering out at the world as it whooshed by. At stoplights, I’d see other children, heads down, glued to a portable video game or a book, and I’d wonder why they weren’t as interested in what was going on around them.

  It wasn’t until I was older when I’d realized that, after a while, those kids had grown bored and complacent with what life had to show them through a car window.

  So far, I hadn’t lost that childlike wonder that I’d so tightly held on to since I was little, and I hoped I never would.

  “Be sure you visit the Blue Lagoon,” I heard the driver say.

  “Like the movie?” I interjected, my mind suddenly filled with visions of a half-naked
Brooke Shields stuck on a deserted island.

  “It is a natural spa and very good for the skin,” he said, patting his cheek to add emphasis to his words.

  “Is it outside?” I asked, remembering our brisk walk to the car. Being outside in forty layers of clothing sounded fine. But a string bikini? Not so much.

  “Yes, but the water is very hot. You must try it.”

  Jude gave me a challenging look, and I just shrugged.

  “You only live once, right?”

  He laughed. “That’s what all the T-shirts say.”

  Like everywhere we’d stayed, the hotel was beautiful. Endless coastal views with an upscale-cabin feel reminded me of a secluded mountain lodge. I hoped to spend some time wandering around our suite, admiring the waves as they crashed just outside below our balcony window, but Jude seemed to have other plans.

  “We have dinner reservations in an hour,” he said, sliding his hands around my waist.

  “Really?” I nearly whined. “Can’t we just order in?”

  “Nope.”

  Turning, I looked up at him, trying to gauge what was going on in that head of his. “Why?”

  “Just because.” He shrugged, feigning indifference, but I could see the hint of edginess it carried. “I thought it would be nice to spend the first evening of our honeymoon out. That’s all.”

  Liar.

  He was excited and perhaps a bit nervous about something.

  Unwilling to foil any plans he might have, I played along. “Okay. I guess I’d better get ready then.”

  Glad I’d taken a shower on the plane, I grabbed my makeup bag and headed for the bathroom to begin sprucing myself up for an evening out. I unzipped the small case, pulling out foundation and a tube of mascara. Eye shadow and lipstick were set on the counter as well. Like a little girl playing with her mother’s makeup for the first time, I always felt a slight thrill whenever I applied it. It was a tiny reminder of independence, of how far my life had come.

  I’d never forget.

  After fifteen minutes or so, I no longer looked like the tired, jet-lagged version I’d arrived as, and I moved on to tackle my hair. Since I’d blown it dry on the plane, it was mostly straight, hanging down my back with little fuss. Grabbing the curling iron and the wonky plug adaptor, I let it heat up, and I moved to the closet where I’d hung a few dresses after we arrived.

 

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