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(6/19/06 12:06 pm)
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Mile High~A Zendall One-Shot
A/N: NC-17. This is based on the Divorce Island airplane episode. Thank you so much to Cheryl and Liz who gave me lots of feedback and encouraged me to move from bluebirds and butterflies into the more...interesting realms of fan fic. Thanks,Love, for your encouragement, edits, and for digging me out of more than one hole with this one. You all are the best!
Divorce.
He didn’t want one, yet here he sat, waiting for her, waiting for this plane to take off, so they could go get their quickie island divorce. Well, it seemed only right to be doing it this way, after their secret quickie marriage eight months ago. It’s not as if it were ever a love match—in fact, just the opposite—two people who could barely stand each other marrying for all the wrong reasons: business, revenge, self-preservation. Except for them, for Zach Slater and Kendall Hart, those were exactly the right reasons. And everything would have been fine, could have gone on like that indefinitely, but for one small glitch: he, Zach Slater, had fallen deeply, madly in love with his wife.
Divorce, for Kendall Hart-Slater, was the only option. She had been burned by love so many times in her life that she had long ago stopped counting the hurts. All she knew was that she neither needed nor wanted love in her life, which is why becoming Mrs. Zach Slater had been the perfect plan. She loathed everything about him: his cool, calm self-assuredness; his far too easy lies; his unscrupulous way of doing whatever he wanted; his disdain for pretty much everyone else in the world…the way he always seemed to see right through her, beyond her cold, hard façade, to find the vulnerable, hurting Kendall, the one who only wanted to love and be loved, but trusted neither herself nor anyone else with her heart—especially not Zach Slater. The hell of it was that, of all the inappropriate men she had ever known, it was this one, her husband, with whom she had fallen desperately in love. And so, for Kendall, divorce remained the only option.
He had already boarded the plane and taken his seat next to the window. He didn’t know if she preferred window or aisle, but he guessed aisle because it was easier to get in and out, and Kendall was usually in motion; whether it be her hands, her body, or her mouth, one seemed to be always on the go. Her mind, too, he reflected, was always working, always busy. She was a smart woman, very smart, although her judgment was often hampered by trust issues. She usually trusted the wrong people, failed to see who had only her best interests at heart, and, worst of all, had no faith in herself and her ability to make decisions. Zach did. He knew that when she set everything and everyone else aside and thought of only what was best for her, she was fully capable of making the right choices. The hard part was getting her to see that. Take this trip, for example. He wasn’t sure she would even show up. It sounded like a good idea to her yesterday, but she could have easily talked herself out of it since then. He considered calling her to see if she was coming, but he had promised no pressure, and he intended to stick to that.
**********
What the hell am I doing here? she wondered for the thousandth time as she boarded the plane. It only takes one of us to go get a divorce. Why are we doing this? And then she saw him. Her heart leapt into her throat. God, he was gorgeous. That was one thing that had never been in question. Her husband was one of the finest looking men she had ever seen, especially in that dark suit, that blue shirt which perfectly set off his rugged good looks, dark eyes, and wavy, maddeningly silken hair that just brushed his collar; hair that she, on more than one occasion, had valiantly fought the desire to run her fingers through…that square jaw covered with a perpetual layer of stubble that she was always tempted to rub her hands over, if for no other reason than to relieve the constant itch she felt every time they were in the same room together…
Zach had seen his wife board the plane. His eyes had taken her in appreciatively and looked away before she saw him. No point in being obvious. But his heart had skipped a beat at the sight of her: her lovely face framed by luxurious, cascading curls; green eyes that matched her emerald dress, cut to show off her slender figure to its best advantage and set off by trademark stilettos that emphasized her shapely calves; large, glittering earrings that begged to be nibbled off, set in the lobes of perfect half-moon ears; a necklace that drew his eye downward, to regions yet unexplored but that he still hoped, someday, to discover the joys of.
He hadn’t married her because she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever known—and Zach, being from Vegas, had known many beautiful women. Her beauty hadn’t even been a factor at the time. But Zach Slater was always one to notice, and he noticed how she commanded attention when she entered a room, how others paled in comparison next to her. It was only later that he began to realize how her inner beauty affected her outward appearance—how her features softened when she was off her guard, how her green eyes flashed when she was on the warpath, defending someone she loved, how her face appeared full of wonder and amazement when she learned some new truth about herself. Zach had been there on several such occasions, and he had found himself time and again, unable to take his eyes off her as she underwent those transformations. He always felt privileged to share such moments with her—it was one of many reasons he had fallen so deeply in love with her.
Kendall suddenly realized that she had stopped dead still in the middle of the aisle to stare at this beautiful man, her soon-to-be ex-husband. Thank God he hadn’t noticed. She shook her head, bringing herself back to reality. This was exactly the reason she was here. She needed this divorce before she changed her mind and lost herself in a man who could never love her, who could never make her anything but miserable. She steeled herself, took a deep breath, and went to her seat.
“Okay, so what’s the real reason you wanted to turn this divorce into a holiday?” she asked as she sat down, tucked her purse into the side of the seat, and reached for the ends of the seatbelt. There. That should sound casual enough. No emotion, just a light-hearted question.
His voice, when he answered, was just as casual. “Why can’t you just lie back and enjoy yourself?” There was no regret in his tone, no qualms or longing or second thoughts in his eyes as he spoke. He was divorcing her with the same nonchalance with which he had married her. Easy come, easy go. She knew she was making the right decision.
Play along for another day or so, she told herself, and you’ll be home free. You’ll never have to see him again. “I don’t know if my body is capable of relaxation right now,” she said, her nervous hands continuing to fumble with the seatbelt. How true that was. In spite of her calm exterior, her heart was still in her throat. From what? Surely not because she was really going through with it. Surely not because this would be the end of Mrs. Zach Slater, a name she had enjoyed dropping, like a bombshell, anytime she wanted attention. That part had been fun. Most of Pine Valley loathed Zach almost as much as she had, and every time she used his name, they took notice. Kendall Hart-Slater was not someone to be trifled with.
Stupid seatbelt, she thought. Why couldn’t she get that little piece of metal into that little slot? Seeing her frustration, Zach leaned over and took the ends of the seatbelt from her hands. Damn, he smelled so good—masculine and sexy—and he felt so warm—or was that her? Why couldn’t he touch her without her hands getting all sweaty and her heart racing like that?
“I thought it’d be fun to celebrate our escape from the bonds of love,” he said, sending the buckle home as it clicked into place. Although she smiled as he said that, the irony of his words escaped neither of them—free from the bonds of marriage, maybe; yet, unwilling as they were to admit it, they were both bound by love as surely as Kendall was bound by the seatbelt he had just fastened around her. It was just that neither of them realized that the other felt the same.
“Thank you for the “Get Out of Jail Free Card,” she said, folding and refolding her hands on her knees.
“Hmm. My pleasure.”
She felt herself tremble. This won’t work, she thought, exhaling and reaching for something, anything, to busy her hands.
He noticed the worn, laminated emergency escape route card she had picked up and was now studying. “What, are you worried?”
She feigned interest in the card, not meeting his eyes. “I always like to have an escape route.”
“That’s a good strategy,” he said, smiling. Kendall looked at him and started to relax, feeling, again, that sense of camaraderie they often shared. It was going to be okay.
“Yeah,” she smiled mischievously at him. “I think someone actually told that to me once. I think it was you.” She poked playfully at him with the card. “Was it you?”
Zing. Take that, Mr. Calm, Cool, and Collected. They both knew exactly the circumstances under which he had spoken those words. They were thankfully interrupted by the flight attendant.
“Let me guess—newlyweds?”
Kendall stole a glance at Zach, who folded his arms and looked at her as if he were trying not to smile. Let’s see how you handle this one, he seemed to be saying. She turned to the flight attendant and answered, “Yeah, something like that.”
“Champagne? Orange juice? You have something to celebrate,” the flight attendant went on, just a bit too perkily, holding out her tray.
“Okay, I’ll have orange juice,” Kendall said, helping herself to a cup. “Thanks.”
“Me, too,” Zach said taking one for himself. Kendall noticed and appreciated that, ever since he had learned she was pregnant, Zach never drank alcohol around her when she couldn’t partake, either. It was one of those thoughtful little things that he occasionally did that she loved about him, one of those things against which she was fighting thinking about as she forced herself to go through with this divorce.
When the flight attendant was gone, Zach lifted his cup to Kendall and toasted, “Here’s to the best divorce ever.” There it was—that word again. All the good feeling that was starting to fill her suddenly disappeared. Her eyes dropped and her words failed her. She hastily put down her cup and started fumbling with her seatbelt again.
“Uh, I can’t. I’ve gotta get off this plane.”
“Where are you going? What for?” he sounded puzzled.
“This is really weird. This is the weirdest divorce I’ve—” She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what she wanted. “I don’t get this,” she finished.
“It was the weirdest marriage, so what’s to get? I mean, we tried to avoid romance and we did, and there’ll be no fuss on the way out the door.” He was so matter of fact. How could he not care more? Granted, it wasn’t a conventional marriage and he didn’t really love her in spite of his earlier declarations, and this proved it. But he was right. That was what she wanted, wasn’t it?
“I guess. I just—I just got used to having you around, that’s all,” she said slowly, considering his words, shaking her head and wrinkling her nose as she answered.
Zach just stared at her for a moment and sighed ever so slightly. God, she was adorable. “Me too,” he replied. “Well,” he went on cheerfully, “you can always come by the casino and count the money.”
“I trust you.” I trust you? Where did that come from?
“Yeah?” He seemed surprised by it, too. But she meant it—at least with regard to business. When it came to her heart, that was a different matter.
“Mm hmm,” she nodded.
“Well, I’ll be across the courtyard, anyway, if you need me. But do me a favor—if you do get off this plane, don’t stay in Pine Valley. Go anywhere, because here they’re just going to ask you stupid questions about the baby and whether you’re going to run Fusion with Babe. I don’t know what else.”
Kendall’s smile faded. “Yeah,” she agreed. His reasoning made sense. Where else would she go to get away from all the questions, all the answers people wanted to push on her? “I guess—I guess when you put it that way, I guess you’re right.” Resigned, she buckled her seatbelt again.
“You know what I’ll do?” Zach asked, as an idea occurred to him. “When we get back here, I’ll talk to Babe. I’ll convince her to sell her shares of Fusion to us—to you. It’s my, um, divorce present.” It was a very generous offer, and Kendall found a small smile playing on her lips again. She appreciated the gesture.
“Thank you.”
He smiled back, his eyes still locked on hers. “You’re welcome. Isn’t it funny?—even engaged to be divorced, we’re still the perfect non-couple.”
**********
Strange food, irregular schedules and, apparently, napping on airplanes, can cause one to have strange dreams, Zach decided. Myrtle as a matchmaking pilot? She was even talking sense, but he wasn’t having any of it.
For her it was so simple. “All you have to do is put your arms around the girl and tell her you love her…” God, how he wanted to do just that, but reason told him it was futile. You’ve tried that before, he told himself, remember?
“She doesn’t love me. She asked for this divorce. She doesn’t need me,” he argued.
“Oh the heck with that,” Dream Myrtle went on, trying to talk him into something he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt Kendall didn’t want, and she probably would have continued until they reached their destination if a sudden burst of turbulence hadn’t woken him up.
He didn’t realize it was turbulence at first. All he knew was that he woke to a jolt and found Kendall tumbling into his lap. His first thought was that this was part of his dream and that Myrtle had pushed her there. After all, the last thing he remembered her saying was, “…I’m going to get you two together,” but he quickly realized that that made no sense. Myrtle was not real, but Kendall most certainly was. He heard her surprised, “Oh!” as she lost her balance, felt the weight of her body as she landed on him, smelled the delicious scent of her hair, her skin, as she settled into his lap.
She had grabbed his wrist as she fell, and held it as she regained her balance. They both froze and, as their eyes met, Zach realized he didn’t know what to do with his hands. He knew what he wanted to do with them, but he was struggling to respect her wishes. She wanted a divorce, which meant she probably didn’t want his hands all over her. His eyes traveled from hers down to the V of her neckline, and lingered. The top of her dress gaped, and he caught a glimpse of the luscious, curving swell of her breast. His mouth watered. He longed to devour her, take her in his mouth, his hands, wrap his whole body around hers and... He looked away, but his eyes were drawn to her thighs, where her dress had hiked up when she fell. His breath caught in his throat. Oh God, he thought, his stomach dropping inside him. Just one touch. He moved his hand away from her, intending to clench his fist and resist the temptation, but his fingertips brushed her thigh as he moved past. Just that one touch was loaded with energy that synapsed from his hand to her leg and coursed through both of them. He felt Kendall stiffen, felt her draw in her breath and hold it.
Just one touch, reminded himself. He tried to steel himself and stop there, but she was a magnet that drew his fingers back, and he found himself unable to resist her pull. He reached again for another taste of her soft, creamy skin, running his fingers along her outer thigh, willing himself to stop, but losing the battle. Now they were both holding their breath, hearts pounding, not wanting anything to break the spell.
Zach expected her to push him away or jump from his lap, but he met no resistance at all. In fact, he sensed that she hungered for him to touch her as much as he did. He slid his fingers up her leg, under the hem of her dress, spreading them out and drawing them together as they drank in her silken skin. She was intoxicating—just that one bit of contact left him longing for her as he had never longed for another woman. His hand spread over her thigh, palm flat against her now, feeling the taut muscles flexed under her supple skin, and slid inward. Chills ran down her leg and up her spine and she shivered, her every sense awakened, every nerve ending aroused.
Kendall must have started breathing again at some point, because as his fingers tickled the inside of her thigh, she stopped again, catching her breath with a gasp, as she closed her eyes and leaned back against the window, moving her legs slightly apart to allow him better access to her. At that, he felt a thrill rush through him, a ball of flame that started in his groin, hardening him instantly as it flared up and moved through his abdomen to his chest. It moved down his arms like a fuse sizzling toward a stick of dynamite, and sent sparks through his fingertips that scorched her thigh as his fingers moved higher, forging a path deeper under the dark recesses of her skirt, blazing a trail into unknown territory.
Her pulse pounded under his hand as it opened and closed around her, squeezing and releasing, inching higher and higher. Kendall felt faint, anticipating the moment he would reach his destination. His fingers moved achingly, slowly. Touch me, she whispered to herself, afraid to breathe. A little mew echoed in the back of her throat as he finally struck gold and reached the last piece of satin and lace that barricaded him from his goal. His fingers stroked at it, started to pull it away.
His other arm, behind her, wrapped around and cradled her, pulling her against him. She sank into him, her body curled against his. Don’t think, she told herself. It’s not happening. If it wasn’t happening, she wouldn’t have to stop it, wouldn’t have to deal with it later. She wanted so much to touch him, to run her fingers through his hair, rub her hands over his face and across his chest, to place her hand on his heartbeat and slide down his muscled abs toward his… Stop thinking! she screamed to herself, clenching her fists against her desire. If she moved, she knew she would let him take her right here, for all the world to see. She had felt him harden under her. She felt his physical need. But she knew that was all it was—a reflex, a physical response to a stimulus. She could not separate the physical from the emotional within herself, even if he could, and giving in to either one would be the worst possible thing she could do.
His hand was in her hair, pulling her head toward him. She nuzzled closer to him, feeling his breath on her cheek, his lips at her ear as he groaned her name.
“Kendall.”
No! her inner voice shrieked. What are you doing?! With a start, she sat bolt upright, pushed his hand away and struggled to extricate herself from his lap. She scrambled back to her own seat, smoothing her skirt, cheeks flaming, and fumbled unsuccessfully, again, with her seatbelt. Zach reached over to help her with it, trying to catch her eye, wanting to say something—but what? She pulled away, turning her back, refusing to make eye contact, and finally shoved the pieces together herself, joining them with a ‘click’ inside the metal housing. She grabbed for a magazine and buried her face in it, furious at herself for getting into such a position, furious for enjoying it, furious for wanting more.
They sat in silence for some time. She flipped the pages of the magazine, having no clue as to what any of it was about. It could have been a treatise on bass fishing, for all she knew. Zach had taken a book out of his carry-on bag and sat reading it, pausing to look up at her every once in a while, waiting for her to return his glance. But her eyes remained fixed on the magazine as the color slowly faded from her cheeks, her pulse returned to normal, and the plane wended its way south and east, carrying them closer and closer to their divorce.
Kendall’s thoughts were in turmoil. He wanted her, that much she knew, but could he really love her? He had said he did, but one time she had been unconscious and he didn’t think she had heard him, so that didn’t count. The other time had been the worst night of her life and she had convinced herself that he had said it only out of pity or an attempt to use her to get back at everyone in Pine Valley who had ever wronged him. She wanted no part of either motive.
On the other hand, he was always there—rescuing her, comforting her, listening to her—when no one else was. He had promised to stand by her for no reason at all, understood and accepted her choices based on just her word alone, and supported her decisions without putting her down or making her question herself. Maybe he really did care for her, somehow, in the strange, Zach-Slaterish way that only he was capable of. But love? He didn’t know how to love and she was not worthy of it. The past had proven her right on both counts. But then again, just maybe…
The perky flight attendant interrupted her thoughts again as she made her rounds once more, this time with hot towels on her tray. She leaned down and said in a quiet, but still perky, voice, “Wouldn’t you like one?”
A hot towel? No. Nothing hot. They both still felt hot enough as it was. A cold shower, maybe, but she wasn’t offering that.
“No, thank you,” they politely declined.
When she was gone again, Kendall screwed up her courage and looked at Zach.
“Did you ever think…” she started before her nerve failed her. She couldn’t stand to hear the truth from him, nor could she stand to hear the lie. Her hand moved to her throat as her eyes went back to the magazine on her lap. “Never mind.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” She leaned her head against the seat back and imagined the answer she had wanted to hear…
**********
She had just spent a long day at Fusion, but wasn’t a bit tired because she was meeting her ruggedly handsome, oh, so sexy husband for dinner. She had changed at the office into one of several dresses she kept there for emergencies, never knowing when an important client would show up, expecting to be wined and dined. She had never worn this particular dress, the soft shimmery one with the wide red, pink and black vertical stripes, but she loved it, and was glad that she was able to wear it for her husband, not waste it on some boorish client.
Her co-workers had long ago left for the day and she was waiting for the elevator that would whisk her away, down to where her husband would be—should be—waiting by now. But when it finally arrived at her floor and the doors slid open, she was pleasantly surprised to see Zach there, having come up to meet her rather than wait downstairs.
As he stepped from the elevator, Kendall found herself, as she often did, just staring at him, taking in every detail. She couldn’t look at him, think about him, without thinking about how gorgeous he was, and how lucky she was—not only because he was stunning to look at, but for all his other qualities: his charm, his heart, his sincerity, his tenderness…she could go on and on. But the quality she loved most about him, and could least fathom, was the depth of his love for her. And to think that she had almost thrown it all away...
His eyes traveled up and down her entire body, appreciating what he saw.
In her fantasies, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her and often undressed her with his eyes, the thought of which turned her on immensely.
“I missed you,” he said in a deep, gravelly voice.
In her fantasies, he always missed her.
“I missed you,” she replied. She did miss him when he wasn’t around. Always.
He stood close to her—so close she could barely breathe—and touched her intimately, as only a lover should: hands on her face, (oh, what hands!), on her neck, on her shoulder.
In her fantasies, Zach couldn’t keep his hands off her, either.
He ran his fingers under the narrow strap of her dress, lifted it, slid it down her shoulder and back up again. His hand surrounded her shoulder and slid back to her throat, coming perilously close to her breast on the way. (You can touch me there. On second thought, you’d better not right now. We may not make it to dinner. We may not make it to the car.)
“Is my beautiful wife ready to have dinner with me?”
Fantasy Zach always thought Kendall was beautiful.
She smiled, reached up to caress the hand that was caressing her (oh, those hands…), and answered, “I’m ready to go anywhere with you. I love you.”
“I love you.”
She looked into his eyes. She could get lost in those eyes—had been lost in those eyes more than once. God, she loved those eyes.
“I’m so glad we made this marriage real. You make me so happy.”
For his answer, Zach pulled her into a torrid embrace, kissing her so intensely she felt as if he could swallow her up. Indeed, in his arms she already felt as if he had swallowed her completely, as if she were a part of him that could never be shaken, that they were one in body and soul.
The kiss continued as they stepped into the elevator, their bodies never breaking contact, the doors sliding closed behind them.
Her fantasy often stopped here, but today she willed it to go on:
Keeping her body pulled close to his, he reached out one hand and pushed the button for the ground floor, then turned all his attention back on her. Lacing his fingers in her hair, he bent his head down for another kiss, his body pressed full against hers. She could feel every rise and fall, every bump and bulge. And there was one there now that hadn’t been there a minute ago.
She smiled wickedly. “Where did that come from?” she asked, grinding her hips into him. His hands slid down her back, around her curves, under her, aided and encouraged by the slippery fabric of her dress, and pulled her in and up, grinding her into him again.
“Why don’t you let me show you…” he answered seductively. Kendall felt a twinge, no, a jolt, in her stomach, and it wasn’t from the motion of the elevator.
“I don’t think we have time,” she started, when, all of a sudden, the elevator lurched and stopped. Everything went dark. “What happened?” she asked.
“Looks like the power went out. We may have some time after all.” Zach’s lips were on her, ravishing her, even before the words were out of his mouth. Lifting her from where his hands still held her, he turned her and backed her up, hard, against the wall, pinning her there with his body. He pressed his groin against her, lifting her leg and wrapping it around him, supporting her thigh with his hand. Her leg contracted and she pulled him to her, shifting a little until his maleness meshed with her.
He moved against her, slowly at first, tantalizing her, making her yearn for more. As good as it felt, it just wasn’t quite working—there were too many layers of clothing in the way. She reached for his belt, unbuckling it, and then undid the button of his pants. She got her hand in between them long enough to slide down his zipper, releasing him. She pushed his clothes down, out of the way. She stroked the length of him, and then dug the heel of her hand, just firmly enough, into him, drawing it up his full length, wrapping her fingers around him, pulling and stroking as she moved, causing him to groan feverishly into her mouth.
He wrapped one large, fervent hand around each of her thighs and thrust them up under her dress, moving ravenously higher, seeking their quarry. The dress itself wouldn’t be a problem—it could simply slide up a few more inches. He just had to get rid of her underwear.
“Oh, my God,” he growled in her ear.
She wasn’t wearing any.
“I hope you don’t dress like this for all your business appointments,” he said his voice hot on her neck.
“I was wondering how long it would take you to notice. I thought at least until dessert.”
“Looks like you were right.” He was wasting no time now.
“Mmmm,” she whispered in his ear. “I always like to have dessert first, too.”
**********
His words broke into her thoughts, bringing her out of her reverie. “What is it?” he asked, He set his book aside and turned his full attention on her. “You look like you want to say something.”
She couldn’t begin to imagine what the expression on her face had been, but she schooled herself now and came back to the present. “I’m not sure…” she faltered. This was something that, once said, could never be taken back.
“You can tell me,” he assured her.
Okay, here goes. “Do you really want this divorce?” Say no, she pleaded silently; say you want to stay married, to be my husband—for real.
But as he often did, he turned it around, answered her question with a question. “Do you?”
Her heart lurched. Damn you, Zach Slater! I’m not going to bare myself before you only to have you throw it back in my face. Why can’t you just say what you feel, for once?
“Yes, I do,” she said, a note of defiance creeping into her voice. She sat there and felt the emotion well up in her. I’ve got to get out of here. She unbuckled her seatbelt and got to her feet. Anywhere, just to be alone, away from here, away from him.
“Kendall—” Zach called behind her, rising and turning as she fled, but she was gone. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath, dropping back down to his seat. What the hell have I done? He ran his fingers through his hair and buried his face in his hands. I need a drink.
**********
Continued in Part 2 below[/align]
Mile High, Part 2
Kendall made her way to the lavatory. She needed to close the door behind her—to cry or scream or throw something, to splash water on her face and compose herself.
Occupied. Damn.
She headed across the plane to the other bathroom, her eyes blinded by tears. Without even thinking to look for the sign that indicated whether it was occupied or not, she wrenched desperately at the handle.
Locked. Shit.
She started back, passing the stairway to the SkyLoft. There was a chain strung across it, as the flight wasn’t full and the SkyLoft was closed, but she didn’t want service; she wanted solitude. She slipped past the chain, hooking it shut again behind her and headed, unseen, up the stairs.
**********
The flight attendant was nowhere to be seen. Zach pushed the service button, saw his seat number light up at the attendants’ station. Where the hell is that girl? Couldn’t get rid of her earlier. He pushed the button again and again, impatiently, but no one appeared. Dammit, he needed that drink and he would go get it himself if he needed to…
**********
The cold water felt good, refreshing, as she splashed it on her face and the back of her neck. She had found a supply of towels—real towels, not the paper ones they had downstairs—in a cupboard behind the door, and she used one to dry her face, its rough texture scrubbing away her indecision. Her hands had already stopped shaking and the redness in her eyes would be gone in a few minutes. Having made her mind up, she leaned against the counter and emptied her mind of everything else, taking deep breaths, calming herself. She was about to leave the restroom, intending to sit back in one of the deep swivel chairs in the abandoned lounge for a while, when she heard a clinking sound. Must be a flight attendant getting something or cleaning something up. Kendall decided to wait until the coast was clear before slipping out. She didn’t need anyone telling her she had to go back to her seat just yet.
**********
The lounge was not large, but for an airplane, it was quite nice. The restrooms were to the right of the stairs as one entered the room, two doors tucked discreetly into little alcoves off the main floor. To the left was a glossy granite-topped, L-shaped bar surrounded by about ten padded stools. Behind it was a mirrored wall lined with bottles, glasses, and other necessary paraphernalia. Spread around the main part of the floor there were half a dozen round tables, each surrounded by four large, cozy, bucket-shaped swivel chairs with high backs. They looked luxurious and inviting, perfect for sinking back into with a drink or a magazine and whiling away the miles. Next to the bar, in the front part of the room, was a raised TV area, three steps up from the rest of the lounge, surrounded on two sides by a low, Plexiglas wall. It housed a large-screen TV, a deep, curving sectional sofa, and several more bucket chairs, just the place to hang out and talk sports on game day, with a great view of the rest of the SkyLoft below.
Zach found the bar well-stocked and unattended, so he helped himself to a glass and some ice. He found the bottle of Scotch he wanted and poured himself a drink. A double. He drained it quickly and poured another. Taking his glass and the bottle, he moved to one of the bucket chairs in the lounge and sat with his back to the door, sunk down so if someone should wander in, he wouldn’t be seen. He didn’t feel like company right now. He downed the second drink and sat silently, elbows on the armrests, holding his glass and twirling it slowly before his eyes, watching the ice melt, contemplating his situation.
He knew he needed to find Kendall and say something to her, something that would take them back in time a few minutes, and give her a different answer to her question.
Do you really want this divorce?
I never wanted this divorce. I only went along with it because I thought it’s what you wanted. I’m in love with you—I love you like I’ve never loved anyone before and never will again. I want you to be my wife—my real wife—forever.
But he needed another drink first.
He reached for the bottle and was about to pour again when he heard a click behind him. He spun his chair in the direction of the sound and saw Kendall standing in the alcove leading from the bathroom.
“What are you doing here?” she said simply, softly.
He lifted the glass. “I needed a drink. You?”
“I needed to be alone, to think.”
He nodded. “I’ll leave…” He picked up the bottle and was halfway to the stairs when Kendall stopped him.
“Wait,” she said.
He paused next to one of the tables and watched as she approached him from the doorway. Standing before him, she looked up and met his eyes. She took the bottle and glass from him and started pouring the amber liquid into it. It poured over what was left of the ice in rivulets and settled into the spaces between. Finally, the ice rose and floated.
“Have your drink,” Kendall said. She set the bottle down, reached out one slender finger to wipe up a splash that had run down the outside of the glass, and handed it to him. She lifted her finger to her mouth and licked the traces of alcohol from it, reached out and ran her moist finger along his lower lip, then brought it back and traced it along her own. He quickly gulped down half of his drink.
Taking the glass from his hand, she took a sip and set it down next to the bottle on the table. She had done her research, had read the books. She knew that, although alcohol and pregnancy didn’t mix, one sip was not going to hurt the baby. She was more of a mixed drink girl anyway. Give her a cosmo or her favorite dirty martini any day of the week over straight Scotch, but at the moment, that one little taste, the tiny burn in her throat, was all she needed. It wasn’t enough to get drunk or tipsy or really feel any effects whatsoever, but it brought her back to a time before—before the baby she was carrying turned out to her hers, before the husband she had married for business turned out to be the man she hated loving; back to a time when she could do what she wanted and damn the consequences, when she could sleep with whomever she wanted with no fear of entanglement. She wanted to go there again and block out all thoughts of the baby, of responsibility, of love.
“Kendall, I…” He had to tell her he was crazy about her, that he didn’t want a divorce. She put her finger over his lips, cutting off his words.
“Shh…don’t say anything,” she whispered. She had made up her mind that he was not a man of words—not the words she wanted to hear, anyway—and any explanations from him would only hurt more. But if she was going to leave this marriage, she was going to make her last memory of being Mrs. Zach Slater one worth remembering. She would just have to deal with the emotional aspect of it later.
Okay, then. He would just have to show her. That was something he was more comfortable with, anyway, actions, not words. He lifted his hand and took hers, the one she held to his mouth, pressed her palm against his lips, kissed it, and held it to his cheek. She felt the warmth, the roughness she had longed to touch for so long, and sighed. He took her face in both his hands and pulled her close. His lips found hers and they met, melding together, then yielding, parting as their tongues sought each other and entwined. He inhaled of her deeply, drawing her in, pulling her body to his. She was so enticing, so delicious; he knew he could never get enough of her. He tangled his fingers in her long, silken curls and tipped her head back, trailing kisses down her neck.
She sucked her breath in, certain he could feel her heart pounding under his lips. Her knees felt weak and she sank into him, her hands on his chest to keep herself from falling to the floor. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck, her hair, and breathed her in again. She smelled heavenly. His hands stroked her back, her shoulders, and found their way back to her face where he began to explore every inch of her beauty. She was melting at his touch, being swept away by his tender kisses. “I love you,” was on the tip of her tongue.
This will never do, she told herself. He was being too gentle, too loving. She wanted to forget about love, lose herself in his body for a time, and then walk away, taking only this with her.
“Make love to me,” she whispered in his ear. His lips, on her neck, froze. Kendall’s hands slid from his chest up over his shoulders. She ran her fingers along the back of his neck and twined them in his hair. Pulling his head closer to her mouth, she whispered again, “Make love to me, here, now.”
He raised his head and lifted her chin, searching her eyes for answers to unspoken questions. What was she asking for? Love or sex? A lifetime of commitment or an hour of pleasure? Zach wanted to give her his forever, but he could not read what she really wanted in her face.
She tore her eyes away from his penetrating gaze, slid her hands under his jacket and removed it, draping it over the arm of a nearby chair, before turning all her attention on him. She went to work on his shirt, her fingers liberating one button after another from their moorings, pulling it out from his belt to finish the job. She peeled it off him and let it fall to the floor, sliding her hands over his chest, exploring his muscled contours, feeling every dip and prominence.
He caught her hands and held her wrists. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice husky with desire.
“I thought it would be fun to celebrate our escape from the bonds of love,” she answered, meeting his gaze in full. So that’s what it was. Not a declaration of love, but her revenge on him. Or maybe her final gift to him. Or to herself. No matter. He decided to look on it as her gift and intended to make sure it was one she never forgot.
He placed her hands back on his chest, cupped his own around her face, pulling her to him for a deep, rapacious kiss. She spread her hands and pressed them into his chest, sliding downward, thumbs together, tracing a line down the center of his abdomen. She had never known a man’s skin to feel this good—so smooth and firm, pulsing with electric heat, sex appeal oozing from every pore. And his divine scent…She struggled to maintain control, but her body had circumvented her mind and had started throbbing for him already.
When her hands reached his waist, they turned, thumbs pointing downward, slipping under his belt, fingers splayed across his belly, moving apart, toward his hips, rising again, circling, moving up over his ribs, back to his chest, and coming to rest at his shoulders. She pressed her lips to his chest, covering him with hot kisses in all the places her hands had been, before they started their descent again, this time drawing their nails across him, stimulating his craving even more. Her tongue flicked out and traced the tracks her nails left, soothing and exciting him at the same time. Her mouth detoured to his nipple, her tongue coiling around, her teeth nipping, her lips sucking it in. His hands were in her hair, pulling her head into him as she slid her hand up and covered his throbbing heartbeat. She pressed her forehead against the pulsing in his chest, her curls tickling him. She dropped little kisses on the pounding and moved on, finding his other nipple, wetting it with her tongue, pulling it with her teeth, drawing it in and playing with it inside her mouth. Zach groaned heavily and wrapped his arms around her, crushing her to him. Her hand slid down the front of his pants where she could feel him, aroused and alert. She stroked him, causing him to groan again against her hair.
Simultaneously, moving as one, she pushed on him and he sank backwards into one of the ample, cushioned chairs. She straddled him, thrusting one knee on each side of his hips, wedging them in against the back of the chair between him and the arms that encircled them. His hands slid down her calves and removed her shoes, where they fell to the floor with two soft thuds. She rose up over him and slid her hands along her body, from her hips, up her ribs, under her breasts, where she paused ever so slightly, as if offering herself to him, and on, up to her throat, closing her eyes, tipping her head back erotically.
His hands, behind her, pulled her arching back to him, his mouth seeking her breasts, even through the silken fabric of her dress. He latched on to one, his hand cupping it to his mouth, his other hand alternately pressing and pulling at her other breast, kneading it, teasing it. Her nipples hardened into small marbles. His thumb and forefinger gripped her, pulling, pinching through the shimmering fabric, sending her squirming.
He longed to see her body, to drink in her full beauty, to place his mouth on her bare skin. “I want your clothes off,” he growled as he moved his mouth to satisfy her other side, his hands fumbling with her dress. No zipper, no buttons, no ties—it would have to come off over her head. He pushed her dress up, over her hips, her body, her shoulders. She dipped her head to free herself from it and let it flutter to the ground. Zach gazed upon her sensuous magnificence. She was exquisite, as he had known she would be: slender with milky skin, perfect breasts peeking out from two lacy black scraps; flat belly drawing his eyes downward to her only other garment, another black triangle of satin and lace that barely covered her; long, shapely legs, made just for wrapping around him. He sucked in his breath as his eyes raked over her and she smiled at his reaction.
“Kendall,” he breathed, enraptured, but she placed her finger over his lips again. She wanted no reminders of who they were or where they were going—just this moment, now, was all she was living for.
He slipped his fingers under her bra straps, toying with them before sliding them from her shoulders. He crushed her to him again, covering her shoulders with open-mouthed kisses that became nibbles and small bites that electrified her. He reached behind her and unhooked her bra, pulling it away from her and dropping it into the chair where they sat. His hands caught her breasts and cupped them, continuing his nibbles there. His tongue darted out and swirled around her nipple, drawing it into his mouth, opening wide over her and taking in as much of her intoxicating flesh as possible and then pulling her taut, sliding her out until all that was left in his mouth was her rock hardness between his teeth, his tongue teasing it mercilessly, as she wriggled and moaned in delight.
She sank down on top of him, pressing herself upon his urging manhood, rocking herself against him, reaching for his belt and unbuckling it, fumbling with the button of his pants. His hands were on her knees, sliding up her thighs, retracing their earlier path. His fingers circled the joints at her hips, lifting her, his thumbs at her nucleus, pressing, probing. He pulled at the last bit of lace and satin that still covered her, working his fingers underneath, sliding them between her damp folds, drawing moisture from her. She moaned with unadulterated pleasure as his finger entered her.
Those hands, she thought, Oh my God…
As his finger moved tantalizingly inside her, delving within her, she squeezed around him, tightening, giving him a taste of what she would do to him when he was completely inside her. He withdrew his finger and swirled it around her, pressing into the spot that made her arch in ecstasy and thrust her hips forward.
“Oh!” she gasped breathlessly as he continued to manipulate the spot with his thumb, now sliding two fingers inside her. Reflexively, she squeezed around him again and her hips moved against his fingers rhythmically. Like a matador, he prodded and circled her, sliding in and out of her, bringing her close to the edge, then backing away, again and again, teasing her with visions of paradise. He slid his hand from between her legs, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her close to him.
“Now you’re going to enjoy me enjoying you,” he said. A promise? An order? A threat? Kendall didn’t care. She would have done anything he told her to at the moment.
“Hold on to me,” he commanded. Without question, she complied, latching her arms around his neck. As he slid forward in the chair, she twined her long, luscious legs around him and clung to him. He rose, holding her almost naked body against him and turned, setting her gently back down in the chair and kneeling before her. He slid her hips out to the edge of the seat and spread her legs wide. He rose up between them and leaned on her, kissing her mouth, nuzzling down her neck and depositing more kisses on her breasts, her belly, cupping and caressing with his hands as he moved. When he reached the elastic rim on her panties, his teeth took hold and started pulling on them. He nuzzled her as he progressed, sending shivers coursing through her again. She started to help him push the tiny garment away, but he stopped her, placing her hands back on the arms of the chair.
“This is my job today,” he said gruffly, pausing to look up at her. She was so beautiful—her hair tousled, her make-up smudged, her clothes, well, gone. His heart fluttered—reeled—at the vision of her like this and he thought to himself what a perfect couple they would be, if only she loved him. Pushing that thought away, he went back to the task at hand and finished removing the last traces of clothing from her, sat back, placing a hand on each of her knees, and dipped his head toward her.
His breath warmed her thigh and just the tip of his nose, at first, tickled against her as he made his first pass over her, up one leg, pausing at the hard cord of tendon, nuzzling right there, and then moving to her other leg and repeating the ritual. On his second pass, his tongue lazily meandered along the soft flesh, following a random path, taking its time, but always heading toward its goal. Yet again, when he reached that same spot, it was as if an invisible gate barred him and he stopped and tried his approach from the other side. By the time he made his third pass, nibbling and sucking the delicate skin of her inner thighs, chafing her deliciously, her floodgates had opened and her body was screaming for him.
He moved in slowly, dallying at her entrance, toying with her. He nudged at her mass of dark curls, circling, barely touching her. He dipped in for a taste of her heaven and retreated again. When he came back again, he moved with deliberation, his tongue warm and wide on her, stroking upward, finishing its motion with a little twist and a thrust at the apex of its climb. He moved down and started again, a little more firmly this time, adding a tiny nip to the twist and thrust at the end. He slid his hands under her to lift her to him, but there was no need. Her hips had long ago lifted, straining for him, reaching for him. She moaned aloud, forgetting, for a moment, where they were. “Zach,” she cried. His hand moved up to cover her mouth. Ordinarily he would have wanted to hear every moan of delight, every groan of pleasure, every whimper begging for more, but this time he didn’t want them to be heard and interrupted by anyone else until they had both been sated.
His mouth was doing things to her that no man had ever done—swirling and eddying around her, spiraling and dancing on her, delving and invading within, inhaling and engulfing her. She was pulsing, throbbing, reeling, begging, but he did not allow her to be fully quenched until he felt he had given her a pleasure she would long remember.
Her hands reached for his head, burying her fingers in his hair, pulling him in. She was twisting under him, bearing down on him. “Zach, please,” she whimpered. When he finally sensed that she was about to explode, he sucked her in, hard, and held her there, prodding her, flicking at her, nipping. She bit her lips to keep from crying out, but she couldn’t stifle herself and eager moans resonated in her throat. She felt a headiness that started as a pressure deep inside her nucleus and oscillated through every muscle and fiber, building, growing, until, at last, she exploded in white hot flames that licked her, inside and out, wrapped around her body in a cloak of fire, igniting and consuming, and carried her, quivering, like ashes on the wind, beyond the clouds through which they flew.
As the bonfire subsided and reduced to smoldering flickers, Zach pulled her down to his lap and held her close, caressing her, kissing her, embracing her. She collapsed against him, quaking and shivering in the aftermath of her glorious orgasm. Zach reached for his shirt and tenderly wrapped it around her shoulders.
She would have probably stayed right there for as long as he would have held her, but they heard a sound that made them both freeze. The chain at the bottom of the stairs rattled and a perky voice floated up to them.
“Hello? Is anyone up there?”
Their eyes widened and met as they found a new burst of energy and scrambled to move. There was no time for them to get dressed, so they looked for a place to hide. They would have to pass the top of the stairs to reach the restrooms, and there were only two other place that looked workable. Behind the bar was the best choice, as they could duck down unseen—someone would have to go around to the opening to the bar at the back of the room or climb up on top of it to see all the way down behind it. But as the only way in was at the back of the lounge, and the footsteps on the stairs were drawing closer, they knew they wouldn’t be able to make it that far in time. Their only other option was the elevated TV area, which was much closer, but surrounded on two sides by a short Plexiglas wall and, being only three steps up, would put them at eye level of anyone who happened to look in the right direction from the right angle. Even ducking down behind the sofa would only block them from one side, and, if someone came around to the right past the steps, they would be fully exposed.
Kendall grabbed up her dress and panties and Zach kicked her shoes under the skirt of the upholstered chair, and they dashed up the steps, sinking to the floor, their hearts pounding with adrenaline. Zach reached for his wife, turning into her, and pushed her down until she was sprawled out on the floor. He lowered himself onto her, kissed her, then slid off to one side, propped up on one elbow, his body half covering hers and angled so he was shielding her from sight should anyone come around the corner. His other hand slid between the folds of his shirt and started exploring her body again.
“Zach!” Kendall whispered urgently. “What if she finds us?”
“We’re adults,” he murmured quietly in her ear. “We paid for our tickets. And you wanted to celebrate. What better way to celebrate than with a little potential danger?”
Although their voices stilled, Zach was incorrigible. As the perky footsteps sprung up the stairs, his hand continued to dance lightly upon her, tickling her from her neck to her knees, daring her to laugh. Kendall twisted under him, fighting the urge, as the voice again called, “Is anyone here?” As feet shuffled through the soft carpet and then stopped, the light flutters of his hand turned to sensuous massaging. Kendall had to bite her lip to remain silent as they heard the swish of mostly-melted ice in a glass as it was picked up and the click of glass on the table as it was set back down again. While the woman on the other side of the bar was finding a man’s jacket and a scrap of black lace where they lay, forgotten, in one of the lounge’s deep chairs, Zach’s fingers were, once more, finding Kendall’s core, sliding in and out slowly as her legs parted and her hips flexed and lifted toward him involuntarily. And when Kendall could no longer contain herself and had to turn and muffle her sighs in Zach’s neck, they heard the voice halfway across the room breathe, “Newlyweds,” as if this were not the first time she had encountered that peculiar breed. “Well, we land in two hours,” she said loudly, as if to no one, before turning and heading loudly down the stairs again.
When the last of the footsteps had died away and the chain rattled faintly below, Kendall breathed a sigh of relief and, all at once, started to giggle. Zach stopped what he was doing and stared at her, just admiring her. He loved seeing her happy and carefree—she wasn’t often. He loved everything about her, in fact, and wished with all his heart that she also loved him. Overwhelmed, he leaned over her and kissed her again, passionately, silencing her giggles, turning them into moans of longing. Newly aroused, her hands felt for him, undoing his zipper and, sitting up, she pushed his pants away. When he was lying beside her, free from his clothes, it was Kendall’s turn to stare in admiration. She had known he would be beautiful, but this…she had no idea…everything about him was perfect—his eyes, his body, his hands, his…there were no words.
He watched her examine him in open-mouthed amazement, her hunger written on her face—all over her, in fact, as he noticed, with satisfaction, the tightening in several parts of her body. When her eyes finally met his, she blushed deeply and averted her eyes. It was now Zach’s turn to laugh. At the sound of his chuckle, Kendall hastily jumped up and started gathering her clothes.
“I, uh, I have to…” she started. This was becoming—had become—too personal and intimate. The consequences she was willing to face later were coming much sooner than she had expected, and all of a sudden she was way out of her comfort zone.
Zach stood up and moved toward her, pressing her back up against the Plexiglas, pinning her there with his body, placing one hand on each side of her, effectively hemming her in. “Where are you going? We aren’t done celebrating yet,” he reminded her, his gravelly voice, dark eyes, and the feel of him against her quickly breaking her resolve. She didn’t resist as he took the clothes from her hands and dropped them to the floor. “Now, where were we?”
He laced his fingers in her hair, pressed his body full against hers and bent down to poach a kiss. She could feel every ridge and hollow of him as he ground himself into her, leaving her with a jolt that flashed from her groin to her stomach.
Zach’s lips were ravishing her now, opening her mouth wide and drawing her tongue into him, trailing across her cheek to her temple, his tongue following the maze of her ear to its center and out again. He moved along her neck, his tongue and teeth joining in with little tastes and nips of her ambrosial skin. As he lifted her leg and wrapped it around him, supporting her thigh with his hand, a delicious quiver and a feeling of déjà vu washed over her. She had been here before, but, of course, she hadn’t. And then she realized: it was her fantasy. He was playing out her fantasy right here and now, as if he had read her mind.
God, he knows me so well. Too well. She forced that idea to the back of her mind. She was not going to get emotionally involved. But she knew what came next, and so did he. Pinning her harder against the wall, he lifted her other leg and it, too wrapped around him. His hands had slid up her thighs and were holding her from beneath now, his fingers stroking her curves as his hands pulled the two of them together as fiercely as her legs around him were constricting and pulling on him. Their bodies wedged tightly together, she shifted against him until every part dovetailed. He was driving himself against her and she was pulsing right back, beat for beat. She knew that he was going to enter her at any moment and, although her body was screaming for it, she wasn’t going to let him take control. This washer fantasy and he was not going to usurp it.
“Unh unh.” Her voice was hoarse with longing. “Now it’s your turn. You’re going to let me enjoy you.”
She pushed him away, over the arm of the sofa, where he allowed himself to fall backwards, curious to see what she would do. She climbed over the edge of the couch and straddled him, rising up on her knees over him. His shirt, still hanging loosely around her, with one shrug, slid off her shoulders, slithered down her arms and fell away. She watched his eyes hungrily devour her as she stroked one hand along the inside of her thigh, up, up, drawing her finger into herself, sliding it out again. His eyes followed her every move. She leaned over him, reached out and traced her moist finger over his lips, his tongue following, tasting, relishing the essence she left on him. With a heavy, rapturous groan, his eyes closed and he sucked her finger into his mouth, twisting and spiraling his tongue around it, licking off every last taste of her before she slid her finger from his mouth. She didn’t have to look to see his reaction—she felt it between her legs. She was not disappointed, and, by the feel of him, she knew she would not be disappointed in the moments to come, either. His eyes flew open and his mouth lunged for her, but she pulled back, sliding back down onto his lap, her hands on his shoulders holding him at bay, pressing herself into him, moving rhythmically, as she became slicker and slicker.
“Kendall,” he groaned. She leaned over him, her breasts dangling near his face, close enough to tease but not close enough to touch. Her hands moved to his chest and she took his nipples between her fingers, tweaking him until he moaned and pulled her down, taking one breast in his mouth. His mouth closed over her nipple, pulling urgently while she began nibbling and tonguing his ear.
“Are you ready now?” she whispered, her voice hot in his ear. “Or should I make you beg like you did me?” He was breathing heavily now, pulling and nibbling on her harder and harder, but he didn’t start begging. Instead, still in control whether she liked it or not, his hands slid under her to lift her onto him. She angled her hips and spread her legs wider to invite him in, sliding down over him, encasing him tightly. Their bodies meshed perfectly, as if they had been made for each other, and instinct took over.
She squeezed herself around him as he thrust himself into her, again and again, each pulse harder and stronger than the last, their moans mingling, their bodies one, each thrust possessing her, ruining her for anyone else, making her his. She felt her second orgasm coming just as he did. Like fireworks, with their initial concussive booming followed by wave after wave of brilliant light that fills the sky, his final thrust cannoned against her and exploded inside her. They both sucked in their breath and held it as long as they could, frozen in time, letting the red-hot radiance roll over them.
He sank back onto the pillows of the couch, pulling her into an embrace on top of him, threading his hands through her hair, holding her head to his chest. She listened to his heartbeat, pounding, throbbing, and pulsing, as their fevered breathing subsided, finally returning to normal. “I love you,” she mouthed where he could neither see nor hear her, before she slowly rolled away, sliding herself off him.
She got up and slowly started to gather up her clothes again.
Zach grabbed her hand and pulled at her. “Where are you going? We have lots of time,” he said. We can have forever, if you want it.
Kendall turned away started to get dressed. “We’re going to land soon, and we’ve got a divorce waiting for us.”
“A divorce. Yes,” he said, his voice flat. “So I guess the celebration is over.”
Kendall didn’t feel very celebratory right now. She busied herself with her clothes, avoiding his gaze. “Uh, yes, thank you.” It seemed an odd thing to say, but she didn’t know what else to say. “It was very, uh, nice.”
“Nice? Nice?” he said incredulously, trying, unsuccessfully, to catch her eye. Then an almost angry glint crept into his eyes. “I got the impression you thought it was more than nice…”
She blushed. “It was fantastic. I don’t think I’ve ever…”
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s over now.”
“Over. I see. Because that’s what you want.”
What I want? What I want is you, but I won’t give my heart to a man who will break it into a million pieces, no matter how fantastic the sex is. It’s not what I want—it’s what I have to do.
“Yes, it’s what I want.”
Zach started to get up and get his clothes. “We should get going, then,” he said curtly.
“No. Just let me go alone.” And I’ll let you go, if I can. She fished her shoes out from under the chair and slipped them on. “I’ll see you downstairs.”
As the echoes of her footsteps died away, Zach sank down in the chair and poured himself another drink.
**********
Zach was back in his seat by the window, staring off into space, biting thoughtfully on his thumb, as she made her way slowly down the aisle. She had noticed something strange and, as she took her seat, she looked at him curiously and asked, “Where is everyone?”
“I threw them all out of the plane,” he said, and turned to look at her, leaning his head against the seat back. A look of confusion crossed Kendall’s face as she tried to figure out what he was talking about. “I’m gonna make this work, because I love you too much to let you go.”
Her heart thumped in her chest at his words, but she just watched him speak, not sure if she was really hearing what she was hearing. “I’ll never give up on you,” he continued, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter how much you push me.” A smile stole over her lips and broadened as she realized that he meant it. He leaned over her, slipped his hand under her hair and buried his face in her neck, plying her with kisses. Kendall reached up and caressed his hand, closed her eyes, and tipped her head in pure joy. These, at last, were the words she had been waiting to hear from him, the words that would seal their future. She shivered in delight.
**********
She was asleep when he returned to his seat. He stepped around her carefully so as not to disturb her and sat in silence watching her sleep. She had a peaceful, almost joyful, smile on her face. I wish I knew what she was dreaming about, what makes her smile like that. If I knew, I would do it and make her smile like that when she’s awake.
He longed to reach out to touch her, but this time, he resisted.
**********
He didn’t know how long he continued to watch her sleep. She looked like an angel. A tough, scared angel who thinks she has to go it alone. I’d take care of you. I’d take care of you forever, if you’d let me. Seeing her gentle shiver, Zach took the blanket next to him and spread it over her. He was tenderly tucking it in around her when her eyes fluttered open. He looked deeply into them.
“Sorry,” he said softly.
Kendall looked into the face of the only man she knew she would ever love. Her eyes dropped as she answered.
“Me, too,” she said regretfully.
Edited by: CaCire10 at: 7/24/06 11:22 pm
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