“He usually sleeps,” he’d said. “He hates to fly.”
I’d wondered if the co-pilot knew about the Xanax, too. Sometimes it seemed like everyone knew William but me.
“It should be a smooth flight,” he told me. “We’ll be there on time, if not a few minutes early,” he said before shutting himself back in the cockpit.
“Great,” I’d said, trying to sound enthusiastic. In truth, a ball of dread formed in my belly when I thought about returning to California. I didn’t know how I could avoid being reminded of Jace and the life we shared there together. Santa Cruz had been a lifetime ago, but parts of it were still so raw they might have happened yesterday. And those parts still ripped at old and tender wounds. I pushed all of that out of my mind and focused on the real reason for the trip: William. We were going to be spending our time at his vineyard in Napa and that was far, far away from anything that could hurt me.
I shivered, noting that just like a commercial airliner, it was too cold. I checked the cupboards and couldn’t find a blanket. Now would have been a great time for a flight attendant to appear. But I was on my own, and I wasn’t helpless. The blankets were probably stored in the bedroom. Quietly, I opened the door and tiptoed inside. I stopped in my tracks, staring at William in shock.
He was out. I’d rarely seen him sleep, much less sleep so deeply. I moved closer so I could see his face, which was turned toward me. His strong face was slack, but his brow was drawn with tension. Despite his light snoring, I didn’t think his sleep was peaceful. He was worried, troubled over something he still felt he couldn’t share with me.
He stirred a little when I closed the door, but then he quieted again and his breathing became regular. One arm was thrown up over his head, and a blanket was twisted around his legs. He wore a T-shirt and boxer briefs, the black clothing and the swirl of his dark hair like a stain on the white sheets. His body was perfect, his bicep making the T-shirt’s sleeve bunch, and the lines of his flat abs visible where his shirt had pulled up slightly. He was a fallen angel asleep in his winged chariot, and I couldn’t resist him.
What the hell? I thought. Why should I resist him? He was
my
fallen angel. I stripped out of the jeans, sweater, and silk t-shirt I wore. I’d already taken my boots off and left them in the cabin. My ivory bra and panties were embellished with delicate lace, and I felt almost virginal in them, especially with William wearing all that black. I climbed in bed beside him; it was plenty big enough for both of us.
“Catherine,” he murmured, shifting slightly onto his side. I pulled the blanket up to cover us and spooned behind him. Did the man ever get cold? The heat radiating from him immediately warmed me. Neither of us had slept much the night before, and I felt my body relax and melt into his. He sighed and pulled my arm tighter around him. This was home, I thought. Even though I was in-between worlds—my first home and my new home—William was my anchor now. I snuggled into him, putting my head behind his shoulder and breathing in his strong, masculine scent. My eyes drifted closed, and wrapped in his warmth, I fell asleep.
*****
A quiet buzz made my eyelids flutter, and I blinked awake, momentarily confused by my surroundings. I was moving, and yet I was lying still in a comfortable bed with the softest sheets and blanket enveloping me. I wasn’t alone.
William.
My eyes closed again, and I felt him reach to answer the phone. The room was silent except for the distant droning of the plane’s engines and then William said, “Very good,” and hung up. Even half-asleep I marveled that he sounded awake and collected. The mattress beneath me moved as I felt William turn to face me. I managed to open my eyes and give him a sleepy smile, but I was so relaxed and warm, I struggled to keep my eyes open.
They fluttered closed, and I imagined I was drifting on a cloud, thirty thousand feet in the air.
William’s finger stroked my cheek. “Wake up, beautiful girl,” he murmured.
With difficulty, I opened my eyes. He was smiling at me, his own eyes soft and grey.
“We’ll be landing in about forty-five minutes.”
“Hi,” I whispered, wanting to keep the intimacy of the moment. “I hope you don’t mind that I joined you. I was cold and kind of lonely out there by myself.” I snuggled closer to him. “And it looked so warm and inviting in here, even if you were dead to the world.”
“Mind?” He laughed gently, his hand cupping my cheek. “Of course I don’t mind. I can’t think of a better way to wake up. I love you in any bed I’m in, Catherine.”
My heart sped up at this and a thrill of longing raced through me. I loved that he used the word
love
with me, even though neither of us had confessed feeling that yet. I knew I loved him, and I knew I was going to find the perfect time to tell him this weekend. Even if William wasn’t saying he loved me, it still felt special when he used the word to describe us. Maybe if I started to use it more, it would make revealing my feelings easier. “Good, because I love being here with you, too.”
His mouth nudged mine open, his lips playful and searching. His hand trailed down my arm and came to rest on my lower back, pulling me closer. His mouth closed over mine, our tongues entwining as his hands explored my body. If I had been warm before, I was burning up now.
He trailed kisses along my jaw, moving to nuzzle my neck, and glide his mouth over my collarbone, toward my breasts. “There’s just one problem.”
“What’s that?” I asked, my voice breathless, and my nipples already beginning to harden in anticipation of his skilled lips and tongue.
He reached for my bra clasp. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”