Page 22 of Dominate
Gareth: Fuck me, I think I like the sound of that.
THE CAR PULLS ONTO Atarmac where a small private plane awaits. I’m so nervous, my hands are shaking. It’s a combination of not having seen Gareth in weeks, the uncertainty of how this is going to go, and flying private for the first time in my entire life. Callum comes from money, but Margaret is always in his head about how he spends it. I never realised how much he kneeled to her commands until our divorce.
The driver opens the door and gestures toward the black carpet stretched out to meet the steps that lead up into the plane. “Go ahead and climb aboard, miss. I’ll get your bags loaded.”
On wobbly feet, I make my way to the plane, tightening my long pea coat around my body like it can somehow protect me from what’s to come. When I grab hold of the railing, Gareth appears at the top of the stairs. With one smouldering glance from him, I realise there is no amount of clothing that can protect from the effect he has on me.
He stands there in all his brooding, tall, dark, and handsome glory, wearing simple jeans and a dress shirt. But his hazel eyes are anything but simple. They are filled with heat and excitement. He looks like he’s preparing to run out onto a soccer field rather than welcome me onto a plane.
I feel his eyes on me as I nervously climb the steps closer to his heat, closer to his allure. I feel like a comet orbiting straight into the sun. It was easier to consider ending things with Gareth when we only had phone contact. I told myself he wasn’t that handsome and our connection wasn’t anything extraordinary. But when I breach the threshold and he pulls me out of the cold January air, I realise that I am completely full of shit.
He steals inside my jacket, the warmth of his firm arms cinching tightly around my waist. His breath is hot on my neck as our bodies crush into each other, chests rubbing against one another with each intake of breath. He slides his nose down my neck and inhales deeply, causing a riot of goosebumps to erupt all over my skin.
Good God, he feels good.I worried it might feel awkward between us after the stress of the attack died down, but nothing about his touch on me feels wrong. It feels oh-so right.
He pulls back much too soon, but his eyes hold me captive with a look of certainty in them that’s harder to accept than his embrace. It’s a purposeful expression, full of so much need that I feel lightheaded under the weight of it.
“Fuck, it’s good to see you, Treacle.” His deep voice vibrates against my chest, and I have to blink slowly to control my internal reaction.
“It’s good to see you, too,” I admit and force myself to take a deep breath. The wound on his temple is only a faint scar now, but it isn’t difficult for me to recall the moment I woke up and saw him covered in blood.
A shudder runs over my shoulders as I stare at his lips and will him to kiss me. But he doesn’t. His eyes drop to my body instead.
“You’re shaking. Are you cold?” he asks, running his hands up and down my back.
I shake my head. “Just…anxious I suppose.”Anxious to feel your lips on mine again.
The corners of his mouth curve down sympathetically. “Me too. Come on, let’s get you more comfortable.”
We settle into a couple of tan leather seats that face each other while the pilot goes over safety features. It’s a small luxury plane with six seats and glossy walnut trim throughout. There’s a bathroom in the far back, and I exhale with relief when I see that there is no bedroom. I may be ready to kiss him, but becoming a member of the Mile High Club seems like too much, too soon.
I haven’t forgotten about Gareth’s promise to claim me right after the gala. Our moment in the shower at my house was only a glimpse of what I imagine to come. And with all the anxiety coursing through me, I find myself craving that control he had over me. Anything to help me find my footing because being whisked away on a private plane is so not my speed.
I look around the plane for some form of distraction. “Are we changing planes in London to join your family?”
Gareth shakes his head. “They left a couple of days ago, so they’re already there.”
“They are?” I ask in surprise as I slide the seatbelt across my lap and click the buckle. “Did you not want to go with them?”
Gareth shakes his head and leans forward, bracing his elbows on his muscular thighs to glance out the window. “No, I wanted to wait for you.”
His reply has my head jerking back. He chose to wait for me? “You what?”
He looks over at me like he doesn’t understand my confusion. “You drop Sophia off at her grandmother’s on Sundays, right?” he asks casually like it’s common knowledge to the whole world.
“Yes,” I reply, my face bent with shock. Over the past few weeks, we’ve done a lot of talking on the phone, but I never expected him to remember my schedule with Sophia. I’ve been quite limited in what I’ve shared about her because I’m not sure where we are going in this pseudo-relationship, and I want to protect her until I do.
“So you took it upon yourself to work around my schedule?” I ask, wrapping my fingers tightly around the armrests of my chair.
Gareth nods again and turns to look out the window as we begin to taxi toward the runway. I can’t help but stare at him in wonder. He’s acting like this is no big deal, but it is a very big freaking deal. Gareth Harris is a famous athlete with a demanding schedule and an equally demanding family. He just went through the ordeal of having his house broken into, being attacked, and having media swarm his every move. His life is full, yet he didn’t even ask before putting my plans with Sophia first.
I didn’t know men like him actually exist. I was married to Callum for years and his schedule always came first. Even when Sophia was sick.
Especially when Sophia was sick.
Overwhelming need unfurls in my lower belly. Before I know it, I’m unbuckling my seatbelt. Gareth looks at me curiously as I push myself to a standing position. I hesitate for only a second. Then, in one shaky breath, I’m on top of him, my legs spread over his lap and his face clutched firmly between my hands.
His hands wrap tightly around my waist as I stare hard into his eyes for a moment. His hazel, brownish-green eyes that hold so much intensity in their expression. So much promise, and passion, and pain, and just…acceptance. My eyes flick down to his lips. With a deep breath, I press my mouth to his.
