Page 83 of Seeking Vengeance

“I won’t. I want this more than anything.”

I do.

I want the new memories with him.

I want a new life.

He leans in, kissing my temple like he has so many times before. “Then let’s do this.”

He holds me close as we approach the helicopter, and exchanges shouted greetings with the pilot. Matthew guides me inside, the back cabin lusciously appointed with leather seats and pristine carpet. He encourages me to take the far window seat before he climbs in after me to hand over a headset from a hook on the wall adjoining the cockpit, guiding the restrictive weight over my loose hair to settle against my ears.

The deafening sound gentles but the rush in my veins doesn’t slow. Matthew leans against me, his arm tight around my waist as I stare out the window, preparing for my fascination to increase. I’m rabid with rapture, my limbs thrumming, my pulse a giddy staccato.

My heart flutters with excitement while Bishop and the pilot settle into the cockpit. They talk, their mouths moving without the words filtering through the headphones.

“We can hear each other. They can’t hear us.” Matthew’s voice glides into my ears. “It shouldn’t take long for us to be off the ground.”

He’s right. Within moments, the gleaming monstrosity is wobbling off the tarmac, hovering for a second before it glides forward, taking my breath with it.

I’m not new to luxury travel. My family have been boarding jets without a thought to cost or environmental damage since I was a toddler. But this is a first for me.

I’ve never traveled with a man’s arms wrapped possessively around me, the potent devotion sending my head into the clouds.

Lightness overwhelms me the farther we ascend. Buildings become tiny blocks. Cars turn into ants gliding along black curving trails that stretch as far as the eye can see. A cluster of suburban homes transform into an ocean of green trees and sun-burned fields, all while Matthew guides me to rest against his chest, the side of my head nestling into his neck.

I’m Cinderella. Once, I was dirty and corrupted by my family’s choices. Now, I’m swept off my feet by a devilish prince who only seeks to earn more of my trust.

“Stella would love this.” I picture the surprise in her beautiful eyes. Her smile. The awe. “She’ll be entirely jealous.”

“We can bring her along whenever you like.” His hand splays on my hip, no hint of hesitation in his actions or words.

My child doesn’t daunt him. Not like she did Benji.

I know it’s different. One was a paternal parent conscripted into fatherhood. The other is an outsider who can easily walk away. But Matthew has no fear. No doubt.

He’s all in on this insane fairy tale, eager and enthusiastic to keep me from the darkness I’m meant to return to.

“You’re such a good guy.” I keep my attention on the patchwork fields. The tiny puffs of trees.

His mouth brushes just below the base of my neck, planting the softest, sweetest kiss. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew what I was thinking.”

My chest blazes with heat, the naked skin on my back prickling with goose bumps.

That’s all it takes. A few words. A strategically placed glide of lips.

I fight against the need to glance over my shoulder to see the expression that matches the wicked words, but I visualize it in my mind, all sinful and sly.

His touch teases my shoulder, his fingers straying to the thin spaghetti strap. “Have I told you how gorgeous you are in this dress?”

“You don’t need to,” I whisper. “I always feel beautiful when you look at me.”

A rumble in his throat is his only response as his mouth continues to lead me astray, the sweet kisses turning into erotic flicks of tongue and rugged scrapes of teeth.

I bite my lip against the tingles in my breasts, the hitch of my pulse. I succumb to the need to see him and turn, my gaze finding his, his mischievous grin sending the flames inside me far lower.

I stare for several punctuated heartbeats, each thump an exclamation of need.

He’s such a phenomenally handsome man. Sensuous eyes dark as night. A jawline chiseled from stone and covered in masculine stubble. Then the smoothest lips a woman would sell her soul to kiss.

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