Flying (13 page)

Matthew looked sheepish when he took it from her. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting this.”

She thought of the way he’d tossed back his drinks and the way he’d looked her over, up and down. He’d hit on her pretty hard in the bar. He’d invited her back to his apartment. She had a hard time believing he had no idea this was where things were going to go. Then again, he’d been so hesitant to make a move when they finally got here. And she hadn’t intended to go home with anyone on this trip either. Strange shit happened all the time when sex got involved, and she of all people should know that.

“Don’t worry about it.” On her back but propped on her elbows, she let her toes slide up his thigh to his belly. “We’re good.”

He fumbled with the condom wrapper, ducking his head in a way she found incredibly endearing. When it looked as though he might also falter putting it on, though, she pushed up onto her knees to take it from him. “Let me.”

She sheathed him and looked up to find him watching her with an expression she couldn’t read. His cock, nicely thick and full in her hand, bobbed. She kissed his mouth and nipped at his chin. Nuzzled his ear. Stella pushed him gently until he lay back, and she straddled him with his cock in her hand. Only his fingers moved, squeezing her hips gently.

She loved the look in their eyes when she put them inside her for the first time. Matthew’s eyes fluttered closed as his back arched a bit. He bit his bottom lip too, but while all of those things were enough to melt her butter, none were what made her gasp aloud. She did that when he put his arms over his head, one hand gripping the other wrist.

Every. Button. Pushed.

She settled onto his cock until he filled her, all the way. When she leaned forward, she could kiss him and rub her clit against his muscled belly with every rocking thrust. She gripped his shoulders, letting her nails dig in the tiniest amount. He thrust a little harder at that, his teeth denting his lip, eyes closed, brow furrowed. But not in pain. No, not that.

She moved on him, slow and then a little faster. She’d been with men who tried to control everything about this. The pace, the rhythm, the depth of the thrusts. That could be fun, though usually it was so much harder for her to come that way she ended up giving up and just enjoying the fucking for what it was, finding her own pleasure later with her hand and her memories. But this...oh, this was so much sweeter. So much sexier. She rolled her hips, moving on his cock, her cunt slick and hot and her clit tight and aching with lust. Every time she rubbed herself against his belly, the pleasure spiked until she shuddered with it.

Mouth open, eyes closed, fingers digging deep into his skin, so hard it had to hurt him but he didn’t tell her to stop. Her hair fell in her face, sticking to her skin with the sweat that came from really great fucking. Everything became pleasure; nothing else mattered. All she wanted to do was move with it. All she could do was let it overtake her.

She was kissing him when she came. Matthew breathed in her cry. His hands went around her, unexpected but welcome. His fingers pressed a line of demand down her spine until he settled again on her hips to move her a little faster. A little harder. He fucked into her so hard it hurt, but it was a small pain and overshadowed by the pleasure. She moved a hand from his shoulder and pressed it flat over his racing, pounding heart. He came with a shudder and a low shout.

With a low sigh of satisfaction, Stella leaned to press her face against the side of his neck for a moment while she timed the slowing pulse of both their hearts. He softened slowly inside her, which was nice because he didn’t slip out right away. She got to spend a few precious seconds snuggled up against him before she reached between them to keep the condom in place as she rolled onto her back.

Stella yawned with the back of her hand against her mouth. She was sleepy now, though it couldn’t be much past ten or eleven. She wasn’t looking forward to heading back out into the icy weather and finding a hotel room.

Matthew went into the bathroom. The toilet flushed. He got back into bed and switched off the light, which was enough to make her at least shift in the covers even though she hadn’t quite managed to rouse herself enough to move.

She hadn’t adjusted to the darkness yet, so blinked rapidly to focus on him. “I should get going.”

He was silent for a heartbeat. “Oh. If you want to?”

There’d been many awkward moments in her life, but the men she picked up in her turnarounds generally knew what was what. But this was not a usual turnaround.

“Sorry,” Matthew said before she could say anything. “It’s just...I haven’t, um... Well, I don’t usually do this. Haven’t done this, I mean.”

He paused, as if he was waiting for her to say the same thing, but she couldn’t very well tell him that, could she? Even if he didn’t know it as a lie, she would, and just because her turnarounds weren’t something she liked to brag about, it didn’t mean she was ashamed.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.”

The bed dipped as he shifted his weight. “No, I do. I just wanted you to know that this isn’t something I do all the time or anything.”

“I’m not judging you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Stella pressed her head into the pillow and let her hands slide down her body to rest on her stomach. She could feel her hipbones, her belly concave between them, but the skin not smooth. The scale and the size of her jeans might show her to be “skinny,” but she’d never have a flat, unblemished stomach again.

His low chuckle sounded a little embarrassed, and it was still charming. “I’ve been divorced for just over a year. I haven’t been with anyone since then.”

“I could take that one of two ways.” Stella kept her voice light. “Either you just couldn’t stand it anymore and you took the first thing that came along—”

He snorted laughter. “God. No.”

“Or,” she added, “I should feel special.”

“I’d say definitely special.”

She went a little tingly at the answer, even as she told herself it was all just talk. He could even be lying, though...she didn’t think so. Or she didn’t want to think so, at any rate.

“So, why me?” The only light in the room came from his alarm clock, so she couldn’t see his face very well. That was fine. It was easier to ask things like this in the dark. She wasn’t even sure where the question had come from, or why she cared.

“It was the way you talked to that asshole giving the gate agent a hard time.”

Stella was more awake now, but that statement seemed garbled and nonsensical, the kind you’d hear in a dream. It meant he’d been aware of her before she went into the bar. It meant that maybe he’d been watching her, which made even less sense if, as he was saying, he wasn’t the sort to pick up women and take them home.

“People treat airline staff like crap all the time,” Matthew said. “Guys like him get away with it because they can. I liked what you said to him. She couldn’t say it, but you did. And you were right.”

Stella cleared her throat a little, thinking of what she’d told that irate man and why his situation had resonated with her so strongly. “I should’ve had more sympathy for him.”

“No, you were right.”

She thought of the man’s fury, and his explanation, and how hearing it had only made her all the more angry herself. “He shouldn’t have used his grief as a reason to be a prick.”

Matthew didn’t answer, not at first, though in the silence she could hear him thinking how to respond.

She kept on, the words slipping out of her, one after another, aided by the dark. “Even in the middle of dealing with the worst thing that has ever happened to you, even when you think there is no possible way you can get through another minute, not another second, even if you’re dealing with the most incompetent of idiots... Well.” She cleared her throat, memories rushing to the surface on a wave of emotions. “Even when you’re terrified that you can’t take one more step or deal with one more thing, there’s never an excuse for behaving like that. Because when you do, you make all of those fears come true.”

His hands pulled her closer, till he was spooning her. His mouth found her shoulder, his breath her ear. He put his hand flat on her belly and held her, just held her without speaking for a few minutes. He’d ask her now. About the scars. She knew he would.

What surprised her was that she answered.

“We were coming home from a Christmas party. The weather had turned bad. It was an accident,” Stella told him. “Just a stupid accident. Icy roads, someone going too fast. I woke up in the hospital with a broken collarbone and internal injuries. My husband and younger son were fine. They both walked away. My older son...”

“You lost him?” Matthew asked quietly when she didn’t continue.

“Yes,” Stella said. “But not for another half a year.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

After that, there wasn’t much to say. She really should rouse herself, but moving would destroy this quiet that had fallen between them. Force her to acknowledge that she’d told him the most awful truth about herself, and worse, she would have to force herself to wonder, why him? Dozens of strangers. Why now?

Maybe she’d just close her eyes for a minute or two. Just a few seconds. No more than that.

She woke with a start from a dream of falling, and sat up in a strange bed. A darkness she didn’t recognize. Lumps and shapes of shadow loomed, but there was no familiar crack of light around the bathroom door to tell her anything else. No familiar anything, and she panicked for a couple moments until the bed creaked next to her, and warmth nudged at her bare skin. Breathing. The brush of a hand on her hip.

“You okay?”

Matthew. She’d fallen asleep; he’d turned off the lights; there was nothing to worry about. Stella pressed a hand to her chest, her pounding heart an echo of earlier in the night. “What time is it?”

“Almost four.”

She sat up to push her back against the wall since there was no headboard. She drew her knees up, blinking as her vision adjusted a bit to the dark. She felt sticky with sweat and sex. Her mouth cotton-dry. Her head whirled a little bit. Exhaustion and the drinks she wasn’t used to, which might’ve been the reason she’d allowed herself to stay so long in the first place. At least it was an excuse she could use.

“I have to go.”

“Right.” Matthew sat up. “Let me call you a cab?”

“I have the number in my phone. Thanks, though.” She rubbed her eyes, trying to get the energy and motivation to move off the bed.

“Let me at least make you breakfast.... Cup of coffee?” He shifted.

Charming, totally. She laughed a bit. “I’ll grab something in the airport. I’ll have plenty of time. Thanks.”

“I’ll walk you out. At least let me do that.”

She laughed again. “Okay. You can walk me out.”

Neither of them moved at first, and then he kissed her. Soft, sweet. Brief. “Thank you for this, Stella. I told you, it’s been a while. I really...needed. Someone. I’m glad it was you.”

It was horrifying to weep in the bed of a man she’d just met. Fucking aside, they were strangers. Yet the tears welled up, emotions overwhelming her though she fought to hold them back.

“Hey. Shhh.” Matthew put an arm around her, pulling her against him. He stroked her hair.

Warm skin. Hot breath. She buried her face into the curve of his neck and shoulder, her own shoulders shaking as she tried to keep herself from completely dissolving. He would think she was crazy. He would think she was a mess.

Well.

Wasn’t she?

“I haven’t told anyone about Gage in a long, long time.” Her voice was thick with tears, and she swallowed hard to keep them from flowing. “I’m sorry, it’s not something I share with people I know really well, much less strangers.”

“It’s okay.” His hand smoothed over her bare back. He kissed the top of her head. “Everyone has scars.”

Stella said nothing to that, working hard to get herself under control. She breathed. In, out. She put her hand flat on his chest to feel the beat of his heart. It soothed her. They sat that way for some long minutes until her twisted position started to hurt and she had to sit back.

“I really should go.”

“Stay,” Matthew said. “What time’s your flight?”

“Ten-thirty.”

“And you’re going to sit in the airport that whole time?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” she told him. “I usually find a nice spot in the preferred customer lounge. I’ll be fine.”

It was the perfect time for him to ask her why she flew so often, but he didn’t. He nuzzled against her for a moment, then said into her ear, “You can sleep here, Stella. In the morning I’ll make you coffee and maybe pancakes, if you’re lucky. And you can take a cab to the airport with a few hours’ sleep and something in your stomach. It’ll be a lot nicer than sitting in the lounge.”

She shook her head, but didn’t say no. Matthew huffed quiet laughter against her. She wiped at her eyes, burning with exhaustion and emotion. The scene with the man in the airport had left her hurting and vulnerable; sharing the story about Gage had been a surprise and hadn’t helped.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?”

He laughed too, softly. “I don’t mind. In fact, I insist. Does that make me kind of a jerk?”

“No. Not at all.” Stella tilted her head, looking him over. “You’re being unexpectedly kind.”

Matthew moved closer then. His mouth found hers. His voice whispered over her lips, “I’m sorry that kindness is unexpected.”

They clung together for a moment, less a hug than two people on a raft in a storm-tossed ocean holding on for fear of being swept away. She wanted to let go of him. Needed to, as a matter of fact, because clinging like this went against everything Stella had ever sought while flying. But she held on to him for just a few minutes longer anyway.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Stella had no idea what to wear.

Not for a real date. With Craig, no less. She pushed through her racks of clothes, setting aside dresses and skirts in favor of a pair of well-worn jeans that hugged her in all the right places and a tunic-style shirt.

She called Jen for moral support. “I hate what I’m wearing.”

“So change. What do you have on?”

Stella described her outfit, adding, “And a pair of Converse.”

“Girrrrl.” Jen laughed softly. “Well, you’re comfy, right?”

“Yes. And it’s not like I don’t know this guy. I mean, he’s seen me dressed in all kinds of things already.” Stella had told Jen the Craig saga in brief, leaving out the intimate details, saying only that they’d become friends before her divorce and then lost touch.

“Friends to loooovers,” Jen teased until Stella shushed her. “Are you nervous?”

Surprisingly and tellingly, she was not. “No. It’s a date, but...not. If that makes sense.”

“He thinks it’s a date,” Jen said.

“Shit. Should I put on a dress?”

“Do you want to wear a dress?”

She did not. A dress meant heels and hose; it meant a different hairstyle and makeup. “No. I guess not.”

“You’re going to have fun tonight. And, girl, I’m proud of you, can I tell you that?”

It was Stella’s turn to laugh. “Why?”

“Because you’re getting out there. Getting you some.”

For the first time, Stella thought about telling Jen at least a little something about her weekend turnarounds, but thought better of it. “It’s one date, Jen.”

“With a guy you used to think hung the sun.”

Stella had never put it quite that way, but it was true. “It was a long time ago. Things have changed.”

“Maybe they haven’t,” Jen said sagely. “You don’t know until you try.”

So Stella was trying, and she tried through dinner and the movie after it, and then the coffee and dessert that followed. All the time they’d spent together should’ve made this date less awkward than any other first date, but as Craig solicitously pulled out her chair for her and offered to add cream and sugar to her coffee, Stella could no longer deny that she
was
nervous.

But this was Craig. Her Craig, who, yes, she’d thought hung the sun, once so long ago. And he hadn’t changed, had he? The same smile, same quirky sense of humor. He wore the same cologne, which did send a tingle through her, more from nostalgia than anything else.

Once he’d been all she could think about, and now... Well, he hadn’t changed, but she sure had.

He’d picked her up at her house. Stella had stared straight ahead during the ride home, their conversation easy but vague. He walked her to the door, and everything felt surreal. The night was still young enough that she should invite him inside. Should she? Was he going to kiss her?

“Do you want to come inside?” She blurted the words before she could second-guess it.

“Do you want me to?”

Before she could answer, the front door flung open, Tristan on the other side. It startled Stella so much that she let out a short scream. Tristan started to laugh. Craig did too, after a second.

“Sorry. Didn’t know you were here. I’m just waiting for Dad. He was going to be back in a few minutes.”

“What are you even doing home?”

“Forgot my laptop,” Tristan said. “Dad dropped me off and ran to get gas, said he’d be back... There he is.”

“Perfect,” Stella said through gritted teeth as Jeff pulled into the driveway, even though every other time he parked across the street. It wasn’t enough for him to simply wait for Tristan in the car, nope, he had to get out and stride up the front walk.

“Hi,” Craig said before anyone else could. “I’m Craig.”

“Jeff.”

They did not shake hands.

“Dad, let’s go.” Tristan gave Craig no more than a glance before leaping off the front steps and heading for the car.

Jeff didn’t go right away. He gave Craig a blatant up-and-down assessment that had Stella taking him by the elbow to lead him off the porch. “Goodbye, Jeff.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jeff said over his shoulder with a face that said he was lying. To Stella he said in a voice thick with disdain, “Nice.”

“I’m allowed to date, hello,” she whispered fiercely, hoping Craig couldn’t overhear them.

“And bring him back to the house?”

“I live here,” she told him. “You don’t. Remember? And Tristan wasn’t supposed to be home.”

“Dad,” Tristan said. “C’mon.”

Jeff’s lip curled and he looked over Stella’s shoulder. She didn’t dare turn to see what Craig was doing. Jeff shrugged and got in the car, rolling down the window to say, “I’ll bring him home Sunday afternoon. Do you want me to call first, in case you need to—”

“Go,” Stella said. “Now.”

Putting a smile on her face, she turned and went back to the porch. “Sorry.”

Craig shrugged. “It’s okay.”

“So...do you want to come inside?”

“If you want me to,” he said with a small grin. “Looks like we have the place to ourselves.”

Stella waited for the rise of heat within her, but all she felt was a little tumble-tickle of anxiety in the pit of her stomach. Inside, she directed Craig to the couch while she brought out a pitcher of iced tea and some brownies she’d made earlier—never mind the dinner and coffee and dessert they’d already had. She put the food and drink on the coffee table, and they both looked at it, then burst into shared laughter.

“God, you always made me laugh,” she said without thinking.

“I’ve missed you,” Craig told her. “So much.”

Her laughter faded. “I missed you too. A lot. For a long time, Craig.”

He had the grace to look embarrassed. “I thought a lot about what happened, you know. I felt...so bad. So bad. I’m sorry, Stella.”

Sitting next to him on the couch, she found it the most natural thing to let him take her hands, but she tensed when it seemed as if he was going to pull her closer. Instead, their knees touched and fingers linked. Craig looked at their hands, then at her face.

“Can you forgive me?”

“Yes. Of course. It’s been a long time,” she pointed out. “I’d have to be some kind of crazy, bitter bitch to hold on to that this long.”

The truth was, it had taken her a long time to forgive him. Forgetting had been another matter. She hadn’t been able to do that for a lot longer.

“Bumping into you that day at the coffee shop, it just felt right. You know?” He sounded so earnest, she didn’t have the heart to disagree. “Like...fate.”

He’d always been one to believe in that sort of thing. There’d been a time in their daily conversations when Craig had always shared her horoscope with her. And this, comparing what was meant to be for both of them. It was one of the things she’d found so wonderful about him, this disparity between his steady, solid corporate banking demeanor and what she thought of as the wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey stuff.

“It was bound to happen, sooner or later,” she said, though the truth was she’d avoided that coffee shop for years for just that reason. The day she’d gone there had been on a whim, unexpected. Totally by chance.

Maybe it had been fate, after all.

Craig’s thumb swept her palm. “I wanted to call you so many times, but I never knew if you wanted me to. I thought maybe you’d curse me out. I wouldn’t have blamed you, I guess. But I couldn’t face it. I was stupid. And the longer I waited, the less likely it seemed that you’d want to talk to me again, much less see me.... I was a coward. I’m sorry. I was afraid of what you were going to say, so I let it go until there was no way I could face you.”

“There’s a saying. ‘The anticipation of the suffering is worse than the pain itself,’” Stella told him. Not meanly. She’d imagined herself being cruel to him, should she ever have the chance, but had no desire for that now.

“Yeah. I know. I was an idiot.”

She shook her head. “It was an impossible situation. You weren’t wrong.”

“I
was
wrong,” Craig said in a low voice, meeting her gaze without looking away. “I didn’t have to be such a jerk. I was an idiot.”

“Fine. You were an idiot.”

“An enormous one,” Craig said with a small smile.

Stella laughed, finally. “Yes. Gigantic. Huge. Do you feel better now?”

“I’d feel better if you let me kiss you.”

And just like that, the air left the room. She tried to breathe, but got only a gasp for her efforts. Stella blinked rapidly against the sudden rush of heat in her face.

She didn’t say no.

Craig kissed her, and she opened for it, helpless not to. Not after all this time. When his hand threaded through her hair, tipping her a little deeper into his kiss, Stella breathed out a sigh. Not a moan. A simple exhalation.

The kiss ended, but they didn’t pull apart. Slowly, Craig let his fingers slide from her hair, but his breath still caressed her face. She opened her eyes to see him looking at her.

“I’m sorry,” Stella said. “I can’t do this.”

She got up from the couch as soon as the words left her mouth. She didn’t want to look at him. Wasn’t sure what she’d see on his face, not certain she could handle whatever it was. The moment his mouth had touched hers, everything she’d told herself she’d gotten over had come rushing back to her.

“I’m sorry,” she said again.

Craig stood. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Yes.” She shook her head. “No. I mean...not like that. I mean...”

“It’s okay,” he told her. “I understand.”

She looked at him then. “No. You can’t. I mean, I don’t even understand. It’s just that it’s been so long, you know, and really, you’re kind of a stranger to me. I just don’t feel comfortable taking this...there. Now.”

He frowned and ran a hand through his dark hair for a moment before straightening his shoulders. “I get it. I just saw you and we had such a good time tonight. Or, I mean, I did. And I know it’s been a long time, and I was an asshole when it ended—”

“Yes,” Stella said suddenly, voice cold. Anger she’d been trying to deny rushed over her, twisting her guts. “You were.”

Craig said nothing at first. Then he nodded. “I’ll just go.”

“I think you should. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he said, too sharply. Softer, he added, “Could I still call you, though? I’d like to see if we can be friends, at least.”

Stella was wary of that. They’d tried it once before, after all, and it hadn’t gone well. “I don’t know. Sometimes when you give something up, you can’t get it back.”

“I understand,” Craig said again.

This time, she didn’t contradict him. “There were lots of times when all I wanted was for you to say you were sorry. So, thanks for that.”

He smiled a little. “There were lots of times when all I wanted was for you to let me apologize. So...thanks for letting me.”

They looked at each other with a distance between them that could not be crossed. She wanted to, if only because once being in his arms had made her feel as if she could face anything, though the comfort had been fleeting and not without a heavy price. But she could not make herself move now.

“I had a good time tonight. But I’m not ready for this with you. Don’t,” Stella added with a hand up, “say you understand again. Please.”

He laughed with genuine humor. She joined him a few seconds later, a little more cautious but no less sincere. He shook his head and gave her a sideways glance, eyes crinkled in the corners in the way that had once set her heart pitter-patting. She walked him to the front door in silence and held it open while he went through. On the porch, Craig turned to face her.

“I won’t call you if you don’t want me to. And I’ll completely understand if you don’t want me to. But I hope that we can at least part on a good note.” He held out his hand.

Stella took it. “Yes. We can do that.”

For a moment, he looked as if he meant to say more than that, but common sense closed his mouth. He gave her a wave just as he got to his car, and there was a second or so when Stella thought about running after him, if for no other reason than for that long ago once-upon-a-time.

But in the end, all she did was watch him drive away the way she had done so long ago.