Page 55 of Pressure

"God. Do you always have to say the perfect things?"

He chuckled. "I would say I have a track record of saying exactly the wrong things, wouldn't you?"

The flight attendant offered them drinks but Marissa just took water. She'd drank more than half of the bottle of wine at lunch and was still feeling the effects.

When it was safe to move around, Lance pulled out his phone.

"I need to make a quick phone call. Go wait for me," he said, pecking her on the cheek.

She stood with her bottle of water in hand and made her way down the aisle.

In the bedroom, she sat on the edge of the bed. There was also a bench along one wall that could be used for sitting, and it looked like the top of the bench raised for additional storage. The room was pure luxury despite its compact size.

Less than ten minutes later, the door opened, and Lance stepped in.

"Go sit on the bench," he said.

"Bossy, aren't you?"

"That is kind of my thing, Marissa," he said, sounding exasperated. "Just do it please. If you're on my bed I'm not going to want to talk. As it is, I'm ready to say forget talking, I'll just fuck you instead."

Her mouth fell open, but she stood and moved to the bench. Lance took the spot she'd just vacated.

It was a compact room, so they could still reach out and touch each other if they wanted.

"Where do we start?" he asked as she tucked one leg underneath her on the bench and took a long sip from her water.

"You're the one who said we would talk on the plane. How about you start with telling me what exactly pissed you off at the prison?"

"You want a list?"

"That seems like a good place to start," she said, ignoring his sarcasm.

He laughed. "First of all, what made you think you had the authority to offer not turning him in for his actions?"

"First of all," she said, mirroring his tone. "I only implied that we wouldn't turn him in. I never actually made any promises. Second, it got us pointed in the right direction, didn't it?"

He shook his head. "I don't think so. I mean not really. We already suspected that Nicholas Sutton was a player in all of this."

"And now we have our suspicions confirmed."

"We still don't know the why or the how, though."

"We're going to figure that out," she assured him.

"I'm sure we will. Moving on. What prompted you to keep things from me? Solitaire is paying you to do a job. I should have known everything you did when we walked in there today."

Marissa nodded. "I'll grant you that one. I think I was still a little apprehensive when I discovered it. That's why I wanted to set up the prison visit though. I knew if I could impress him, he would talk to me, but I thought it would play better if you were genuinely irritated with me over it."

"What do you mean apprehensive?"

"I mean I was trying to keep my job safe. There was a part of me that thought if I gave you everything you would just decide you didn't need me anymore and I wouldn't get my full payment. I'm serious about not going back to my old job. The money I'm making on this job, combined with what I've saved, is going to make that possible."

"Damn it, Marissa. How do we get past our obvious trust issues with each other?"

She shook her head. "Time. Patience. I don't know. But I think we owe it to ourselves to try. Feels like the universe is trying to tell us that much."

He nodded.

"So, are you still pissed at me?"

He nodded again and she laughed. "Fair enough. Wanna have angry sex?"

Another nod, followed by a slow grin as he reached forward and tugged her hand, pulling her onto the bed with him.

"I believe your membership in the mile-high club has lapsed, Miss Sullivan. Allow me to reinstate you," he murmured as he rolled so she was under him and pressed his lips to hers.

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