Endless - Manhattan Knights Series Book Three

by Sienna Parks

  We’re both instantly aware of where our skin touches. Adrenaline courses through me, stemming from this one point of contact; my body vibrating with lust, and desire.

  The guy behind her starts mumbling under his breath. “I’ll just stand here all fucking day, shall I, while you fucking first-class assholes catch up?” He picked the wrong day to annoy me. I’m up in an instant, pulling Vittoria behind me before I square my shoulders and stare him down.

  “A simple ‘excuse me,’ would have sufficed.” He’s about to give me some verbal abuse when I move closer, invading his space, towering over his small, plump frame.

  “I… I…”

  “You… you… were just about to apologize to the lady for your unnecessary cursing.” He’s about to protest, but thinks better of it when he looks up at my face, my anger evident in the furrow of my brow. He looks to Vittoria.

  “I’m sorry, miss. Please, forgive my outburst.” She is gracious as always.

  “Thank you. It was my fault. I’m sorry that I held you up. I haven’t seen my angry friend here in a long time. Enjoy your flight, sir.” Now I really want to punch someone. I don’t like hearing her calling someone else ‘Sir,’ even if it’s in a different context.

  “Sit down.” Without hesitation she responds, making my dick twitch at her willingness to obey me.

  I give the asshole in front of me one last look of disdain before I move out of his way, letting him, and the rest of the passengers pass. We sit in silence for a moment, allowing the situation to sink in. We’re going to be on this flight for the next seven hours together, and I know she’s pissed at me. That was evident right before the prick started cursing and I missed my moment to apologize. To explain. I don’t even know how to explain. Maybe he did me a favor; bought me more time to decide what to say to her.

  When the first-class cabin settles down and everyone is seated, a stewardess appears, giving me a sickly sweet, completely fake smile before turning her attention to Vittoria, her smile transforming into a sneer.

  “You can’t be in here. Your seat is in coach. You need to move… now.” What the hell is wrong with people today? Is it me? I have zero tolerance for this passive-aggressive bullshit right now. I reach into my jacket, pull out my bank card and hand it to her.

  “Upgrade her.”

  “It doesn’t work like that, sir.”

  “It does now. She won’t be moving from my side, so you can either charge me for the upgrade, or let her sit here on her coach ticket. That’s your choice.”

  I watch, irritated, as she takes in the sight of the breathtaking beauty beside me. The over primped, heavily made up, average looking stewardess looks confused; unable to comprehend that less is more; that Vittoria would outshine her in every way, any day. She could be wearing a burlap sack and look better than any woman I have ever met.

  “You can go now. Are you taking the card or not?” She snatches it from my hand and stalks down the aisle toward the front cabin. I know I have a satisfied smile on my face, when I feel a tiny but strong punch to my arm.

  “What the hell, Logan? You can’t just be a dick to people whenever you feel like it; and you don’t get to decide where I sit. You gave up that opportunity long ago. I offered myself to you… naked. I’ve offered myself to you clothed. I offered my body, and I offered my heart, but you didn’t want me, so you don’t get to order me around. I’m going to go and sit with the other dancers in the seat I was assigned.” I run my hands through my hair, frustrated, and lost for words.

  She moves to stand.

  “SIT. DOWN. Little one.” I know her brain is screaming at her to walk away, to defy me, I can see it written all over her face; but her body can’t deny me, and I take the opportunity to study her demeanor. Her breathing is shallow but labored, her hands are clasped and wedged between her knees. She drops her head, unable to look at me. I can tell that she’s at war with herself. She doesn’t want to submit to me… and I hate it.

  “Vittoria. Please look at me.” I don’t push her, even though it’s killing me. I wait… for what feels like an eternity before she turns her head, a tear rolling down her face. It causes me physical pain to see her upset like this. I reach out to stroke my hand down her cheek, feeling the wet warmth of her tears as she lets herself relax into my touch for mere seconds before shirking away.

  “Why did you make me leave, Logan?” The hurt in her voice is too much for me.

  “This is exactly why I’ve stayed away from you for all these years. I never wanted to hurt you. To see the look in your eyes right now.”

  “That’s not an answer.” She turns in her seat, her body facing away from me.

  “I can’t give you the answers you really want.”

  “Give me something at least. I need… something. Do you have any idea how much you hurt me? I felt so ashamed of myself for the way I acted when we were together. That’s not me. I don’t throw myself at men. I don’t open myself up to getting hurt emotionally. I’ve always avoided those things at all costs. You made me give you a second chance after Verona. You pursued me. You made me let my guard down, and then you tore my heart out. How could you do that?” I can’t bear to hear how badly I hurt her. I reach out and take her hand in mine, brushing my thumb in circles over her delicate skin. It feels so good to touch her, even in the smallest way.

  “You have nothing to be ashamed of. I can’t believe that you would ever think that, even for a second. I’m the one that should be ashamed of myself.”

  “How was I supposed to feel? Cherished? Used? Desired? Discarded? I felt worthless when you ended things between us. Like I didn’t matter enough for you to fight for me, for us.” A knife cuts deep into my soul at her words. I need to focus, before I fall apart and tell her everything.

  “Don’t ever say that again. Do you understand?” I can’t contain the anger in my voice.

  “Fuck you, Logan. You don’t get to throw demands at me. You made me feel like shit. At least fucking man up and own it.” She pushes my legs out of the way, quickly moving past me and out into the aisle as I sit, eviscerated by her declaration. She’s right. I know I should let her go to her seat, far away from me, and get on with her life, but even as I think it, my body has other ideas. I’m out of my seat, striding toward her as she speeds up, her hand on the curtain between first and business-class when I catch hold of her. I spin her round, pushing her into the small space between the curtains. It’s dark and private and her body is flush against mine, not out of choice, but by necessity.

  I press her against the wall, her arms wedged between us. Her breathing harsh and warm against my skin. The darkness envelops us; our lips almost touching as I fight the urge to take her. She lets her guard down for just a moment before shoving me as hard as she can; lashing out, beating her fists against my chest.

  “How dare you! You don’t get to do this to me. You don’t want me, then fine, but it’s not fair of you to act this way. You want to tell me what to do, how to feel, where to sit? Then earn it!!! I’m so angry with you for getting me all twisted up over you. I was fine before you decided to let yourself have just a taste. You got what you wanted, and I was left… broken. It wasn’t enough for me. Just a taste. I wanted more. I needed more.” Her words are a strangled plea, full of hurt and regret.

  “Vittoria.” I let her punch and smack me for a moment, getting out some of her anger and frustration, before I grab her hands, stopping her from lashing out anymore. I can’t take it. I hate that I make her this upset. I pin her hands by her sides, pressing her back against the wall and forcing her to feel the length of my body against hers. Her breasts pressed against the hard muscle of my chest, her heart racing in time with my own.

  “Don’t, Logan. It hurts.” I loosen my grip. “I don’t mean you holding me. I mean… this. You’re a breath away from kissing me. I know you want to, but you won’t. I want you more than anything, and it… hurts. You want me, but not enough. You don’t need me. I never thought that you were capable of h
urting me, but I’m wrecked… because of you.”

  I drop my head, horrified that she believes I don’t want her as much as she wants me. I know that I will always want her more than she could ever comprehend.

  “I…”

  “Don’t. Just let me go.”

  I take a deep breath.

  “I can’t. I know it’s selfish, but I need you to stay with me just now. I need to explain. Will you let me do that?” My voice is barely a whisper, unrecognizable to me in the darkness.

  “Yes.” It’s one small word, with such great depth behind it. A lifeline. I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight, just for a moment, before leading her back to our seats. All eyes are on us, but I couldn’t give a fuck what any of these first-class morons think of me. The only person whose opinion matters to me, is Vittoria’s.

  I can’t take my eyes off her as she sits, elegant and dignified as she gives me yet another chance I don’t deserve. I’m a dick. I can’t even tell her the whole truth, and yet I still couldn’t let her go.

  “You need to understand. It’s not that I didn’t want to be with you. I wanted you so badly, every step away from you in Verona was a physical ache, and every step you took as you left my apartment in New York was sheer and utter hell. I’ve wanted you since the moment I met you. I thought that time and space between us would help, but it never has. My feelings for you have never diminished. It has been the polar opposite; every moment I spent with you only intensified what I felt, and now that I haven’t been a part of your life for the past year, those feelings have magnified tenfold. I’ll never get over you.”

  Her eyes fly up to meet mine. “Then why, Logan? You know how I feel about you. I lo….”

  I push my finger to her lips. “Don’t. Please don’t say it. I can’t… we can’t. You’re too good for me. You always have been. I will never be worthy of you, and if I hear you say the words, I don’t know if I could survive it. I’m trying not to be selfish with you; to be a better man, so that maybe one day, I might be even halfway worthy of you.”

  She cups my face in her hands; my heart fighting to burst through my ribcage as she forces me to look at her. “But I want… I need… I.” She searches my face for permission that I can’t give.

  I place my hands over hers. “Don’t make me hate myself more than I already do.” I pull her hands from their sweet caress of my tense jaw, and watch her as she crumples into her seat, trying to calm herself, fighting the tears that are threatening to fall.

  An unwelcome interruption comes in the form of the stewardess hovering by my side.

  “Can I get you something to drink, Mr. Fitzgerald?”

  “Yes. A Scotch neat.” She turns to leave and it exasperates me even further. “Miss de Rossi would like a glass of Prosecco. Thank you for asking. Your customer service skills are somewhat lacking.” She shoots me daggers before scurrying off to get our drinks. Why would she think it’s okay not to offer Vittoria a drink? It’s her fucking job. Just because she thought she was going to get the pleasure of sucking my cock on this flight, doesn’t mean she gets to treat my impromptu travelling companion with disdain. I could see it in her eyes the moment I set foot inside the cabin. She devoured every inch of me with her greedy little eyes; licking her lips suggestively as her eyes came to rest on my crotch. Truth be told, after the run in with my mother, I might have given her a second glance if Vittoria hadn’t shown up, if for no other reason than to take my mind off of my pathetic life.

  The reality of my situation is that Vittoria is here, and no other woman on earth even registers on my radar. There is only her. She is my Eve; the first and only woman in my world. I try so hard to forget her, but it’s impossible. She has infiltrated every fiber of my being, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let anyone treat her badly. It’s hard enough to watch her hurting because of my actions.

  She lets out a small sob, and without a thought for the consequences I lift her up out of her seat, and into my lap, where she breaks down, quietly letting out all of the hurt and confusion that I caused. She feels so small and fragile, curled up like a frightened kitten, and all I want to do... is love her.

  “Please, don’t cry. My heart can’t take it. I’m doing this for you. Trust me. You’re too good for me, and I only want what’s best for you.”

  “You’re what’s best for me. I feel it in every touch of your hand; in the way you speak; the way you look at me. I feel it in the way my body responds to you. You are exactly what I need. Everything about you calls to me. Why can’t you see that?” Her voice is no more than a whisper.

  I pull her closer, hold her tighter, trying like hell to calm the tirade of emotions raging inside of me.

  When our drinks arrive, I down my Scotch and request another, but before I finish my sentence, Vittoria hands her empty glass to the stewardess and moves back down to rest her head on my chest. Under normal circumstances I would chastise her for drinking so quickly, but I have no right to ask anything of her. I just thank my lucky stars that she remains in my lap, letting me soothe her. I slowly trace the lines of her back, listening to her breathing as it evens out and she drifts off. I think it’s probably a mixture of emotional exhaustion and alcohol rather than her being physically tired. Whatever the reason, I revel in it.

  I sit for hours; a continuous stream of Scotch being brought to me as I sit clinging to Vittoria; listening to her shallow breaths; loving the warmth of her body against my own. I’ve been rock-hard in my pants for the past three hours while she’s slept soundly, but I don’t care. The physical discomfort is nothing in comparison to the elation that her presence sparks in me. For the first time in a year, I feel.

  I can’t resist her, and gently slip my hand underneath her sweater, my palm pressed against the naked flesh of her back, causing a shiver to run down my spine as I feel hers flex beneath my fingers. She lifts her sleepy eyes to mine, her lips, full and sleep swollen. She is breathtaking. I can only imagine what she looks like first thing in the morning; sex-mussed hair, naked, and tangled in the sheets. My dick twitches beneath her and I know she feels it. Her gaze darts between my eyes and my lips as she licks her own, making them even more enticing. Just one kiss, one lick, one nibble of her perfect pout. I want it so badly, I would sell my soul for one more taste, but I’ve already caused her so much pain through my own selfish desires. She is a shell of the woman who offered herself to me in Verona, who fought for me in her brother’s living room. A shadow of the woman that walked out of my apartment a year ago.

  Her scent surrounds me, her breath warm and sweet on my face as she moves closer, our lips just millimeters apart when I speak. “I want to kiss you so badly, Vittoria. Every inch of my body is screaming at me to do it.”

  Her words are a sweet caress. “Then do it.”

  I cup her face in my hands. “I can’t.” I rest my forehead against hers in defeat. “I just can’t. Ending things with you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Knowing that I was doing the right thing for you, but the worst thing imaginable for me. I couldn’t do it again.”

  “Then don’t. Be with me.” My body sags under the intense pressure I feel in this moment; to do the right thing by her. I know she feels it, because she pulls away from me, extricating herself from my lap and moving back into her seat.

  “Maybe I should go and find my seat back in coach.”

  I grasp her hand firmly in mine. “Don’t. I want you here. I don’t know when I’ll see you again. Stay. Tell me about your life, work, anything. I just want to hear your voice.”

  She gives me a small, but genuine smile. “Okay.”

  We spend the rest of the flight talking about our lives, and it feels so normal. The tension between us is still thick in the air, but I’d tolerate any level of discomfort just to be around her, to hear her sultry voice caress my senses. I’m transfixed, enthralled, obsessed with every detail that she offers me.

  I in turn tell her about the band that I’m working with, what it means for my company
, what I aspire to in the future. It’s uncharacteristic for me to open up, but with her it just feels natural, and I find myself telling her about my run in with my mom in the airport.

  “God, Logan. No wonder you were on edge when I first saw you. I don’t know the ins and outs of it, but Carter told me that your relationship with her is tumultuous at best. I figured it made sense, considering that you’ve spent almost every family holiday at our house since I met you.” She gives me a sympathetic smile, which I would curse from anyone else, but from her it’s a comfort I’ve never felt before.

  “Your powers of deduction are spot on, Sherlock. I won’t bore you with the details, but a summation of my relationship with my mother would be that she blames me for loving her too much. All I ever tried to do was protect her, from herself, from her decisions. She blames me for her life not turning out the way she wanted, and she never lets me forget it. These days, we tolerate each other when we have to, which isn’t very often.”

  “I’m so sorry. That must be hard. I know that you would only ever have been looking out for her. It’s who you are. What about your dad?”

  “The less said about that deadbeat, the better.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “We’re done talking about him. I mean it. I’m not going to waste any more time and energy on him in this lifetime.” She slinks into my side, resting her head on my shoulder, giving me solace in the silence between us. We stay like this for the remainder of the flight; Vittoria drifting in and out of sleep as our time together fades away; our approach to Heathrow Airport getting closer with every minute.

  As we touch down in London and disembark, I feel my chest tighten. My time with her has been so fleeting. I don’t want to leave her.