turn to interrupt. "If you think I'm just some gold digger, then why'd you bring me here?"
"I didn't say I thought you were—"
"That's what you're implying," I said, irritated now. "And I don't appreciate it. I get that you may be wary about people knowing who you are, but that doesn't mean every woman who throws herself at you is after your money."
I stood up, regretting my impetuosity. "Call me a cab or something. I'm going home...or to my parents' house...just let me off the jet, please."
I went to the door of the jet, which was closed now.
Shane stood up and followed me. "We're already taxiing, Leo. If you really don't want to go, I'll still take you home. But...listen, I really didn't mean to say you were just after my family's money. Sit down, please."
His large, strong hands pressed my shoulders, a gentle, insistent pressure. I wanted to stay irritated, let it feed my fear so I could give in and go back to home.
Back to boring, predictable familiarity...
He must have felt my resistance softening, because he turned me around and pressed me against the door, one finger tipping my chin up to look at him. His eyes burned into me, and that was all it took. One glance, one rake of his eyes down my face to the rest of my body.
Normally, sex was the very last thing on my mind when I was on my period, but something about Shane, something about the time we'd spent in his bed had unleashed a hunger in me. Even now, when my moods should be unpredictable at best, all I could think about was how good he'd made me feel, and how I wanted it again. His hands had touched me like he owned me, like he knew every secret of my body. He knew how to draw pleasure from me as if we'd been lovers for decades instead of days.
A rumble shuddered through the cabin, and Shane pulled me with him to the chairs. I let him sit me down and buckle me in, and then he held my hand as the rumbling increased to a roar and I became aware of a pressure on my chest, a fluttering in my stomach. The window next to Shane was open, showing a long black wing with lights blinking at the tip, and white lines flashing past in a long blur, and then the ground fell away and the pressure on my chest and stomach turned nearly unbearable as a sense of heaviness crept through me, crushing me into the seat. The jet shook and bounced, rattling so hard I worried something was going wrong, that the airplane would come apart around us.
I clamped down on Shane's hand, trembling, all my nerves and fears coming to the fore as I realized we were leaving the ground, leaving America, leaving all I knew.
"It's fine, we're just taking off," Shane murmured to me. "The shaking will stop in a minute."
I swiveled my head to look at him, and the calm in his gray-green eyes soothed me. After a few minutes, the ride evened out and the shaking did stop, as Shane had promised.
He unbuckled himself and then me, drawing me up by my hand. Gesturing at the bedroom, he said, "Why don't you go lay down and relax. I'll bring you a drink."
I raised an eyebrow at him. "Lay down and relax, hmmm?"
He pushed me toward the bedroom, swatting me on the behind as I went. "Yes, relax . There's time for that later, when you're not...inconvenienced."
"Inconvenienced?"
"Yeah, well...you know what I mean." He shrugged, looking embarrassed.
Men were so funny about periods.
I climbed up on the wide bed, which turned out to be softer than my own bed at home. I turned back the blanket, marveling at the sheets, which had probably cost more than everything in my entire wardrobe combined.
It was a disconcerting feeling, realizing I owned nothing. I had my cell phone, but that too was in John's name, and it wouldn't work once we left U.S. airspace anyway. I was totally reliant on Shane, and we were going to a foreign country, to a war zone...
What the hell had I agreed to?
Shane came in just then with tumblers of alcohol. I took the one he handed me, sniffed it, tasted it, and discovered a top-shelf gin
"I didn't say I thought you were—"
"That's what you're implying," I said, irritated now. "And I don't appreciate it. I get that you may be wary about people knowing who you are, but that doesn't mean every woman who throws herself at you is after your money."
I stood up, regretting my impetuosity. "Call me a cab or something. I'm going home...or to my parents' house...just let me off the jet, please."
I went to the door of the jet, which was closed now.
Shane stood up and followed me. "We're already taxiing, Leo. If you really don't want to go, I'll still take you home. But...listen, I really didn't mean to say you were just after my family's money. Sit down, please."
His large, strong hands pressed my shoulders, a gentle, insistent pressure. I wanted to stay irritated, let it feed my fear so I could give in and go back to home.
Back to boring, predictable familiarity...
He must have felt my resistance softening, because he turned me around and pressed me against the door, one finger tipping my chin up to look at him. His eyes burned into me, and that was all it took. One glance, one rake of his eyes down my face to the rest of my body.
Normally, sex was the very last thing on my mind when I was on my period, but something about Shane, something about the time we'd spent in his bed had unleashed a hunger in me. Even now, when my moods should be unpredictable at best, all I could think about was how good he'd made me feel, and how I wanted it again. His hands had touched me like he owned me, like he knew every secret of my body. He knew how to draw pleasure from me as if we'd been lovers for decades instead of days.
A rumble shuddered through the cabin, and Shane pulled me with him to the chairs. I let him sit me down and buckle me in, and then he held my hand as the rumbling increased to a roar and I became aware of a pressure on my chest, a fluttering in my stomach. The window next to Shane was open, showing a long black wing with lights blinking at the tip, and white lines flashing past in a long blur, and then the ground fell away and the pressure on my chest and stomach turned nearly unbearable as a sense of heaviness crept through me, crushing me into the seat. The jet shook and bounced, rattling so hard I worried something was going wrong, that the airplane would come apart around us.
I clamped down on Shane's hand, trembling, all my nerves and fears coming to the fore as I realized we were leaving the ground, leaving America, leaving all I knew.
"It's fine, we're just taking off," Shane murmured to me. "The shaking will stop in a minute."
I swiveled my head to look at him, and the calm in his gray-green eyes soothed me. After a few minutes, the ride evened out and the shaking did stop, as Shane had promised.
He unbuckled himself and then me, drawing me up by my hand. Gesturing at the bedroom, he said, "Why don't you go lay down and relax. I'll bring you a drink."
I raised an eyebrow at him. "Lay down and relax, hmmm?"
He pushed me toward the bedroom, swatting me on the behind as I went. "Yes, relax . There's time for that later, when you're not...inconvenienced."
"Inconvenienced?"
"Yeah, well...you know what I mean." He shrugged, looking embarrassed.
Men were so funny about periods.
I climbed up on the wide bed, which turned out to be softer than my own bed at home. I turned back the blanket, marveling at the sheets, which had probably cost more than everything in my entire wardrobe combined.
It was a disconcerting feeling, realizing I owned nothing. I had my cell phone, but that too was in John's name, and it wouldn't work once we left U.S. airspace anyway. I was totally reliant on Shane, and we were going to a foreign country, to a war zone...
What the hell had I agreed to?
Shane came in just then with tumblers of alcohol. I took the one he handed me, sniffed it, tasted it, and discovered a top-shelf gin
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