Page 280 of One More Kiss

Chapter4

CORA

AXEL: You’re close, aren’t you?

AXEL: Never mind.

AXEL: I can smell you. You’re here.

I grinned down at my phone as the text messages rolled in. The five-hour first-class flight from LAX to JFK on airplane mode had been a nice pause on life. And now, as I drifted untethered through the throngs of people in the airport, I realized this was true luxury. My father wasn’t breathing down my neck for once. I’d managed to swindle my way into booking the flight home with our travel agent all by myself. And now that I was in New York proper, all I could think about was Axel. What he might taste like once I kissed him. How good he’d smell as he wrapped his arms around me.

It had been three months since we’d last seen each other—back in August, during one of my visits home from Stanford. We’d only gotten two days together, since my father made a habit of overscheduling my visits home. But we’d crammed in enough love and tenderness to last us these months apart and more.

Even though Axel was my true love—the one man I could be my true self with—my stomach was in knots imagining how it would be to see him again. Three months was both nothing and everything. Doubts crept in no matter what I did to bat them away. Maybe he wouldn’t like what he saw…maybe I acted differently now after so much time away and didn’t even realize it. Doubt and insecurity circled like a predator while I speed walked through JFK, clutching my rolling luggage behind me.

DAD: Got your flight details from the agent. Vince is waiting for you. See you soon.

Fuck. The doubts and insecurities from before began churning, hissing bubbles as they fermented into something new altogether. A familiar paralysis that spread through my veins like ice and iron at the same time. Weighing me down, trapping me. My father loved to orchestrate everything. The car. The destination. The time. My entire fucking life.

I fired off a quick text to Axel letting him know I’d landed, and then slipped my phone into my oversized Dior purse. It was just after seven p.m., darkness creeping at the edges of the earth despite the bright haze of activity emanating from the airport. This night would be mine. No matter what my father thought.

I strode quickly through the crowded terminal, my black rolling luggage a perfect companion to the Hermes bag hanging from the crook of my elbow. My parents formed me in their image, and that image included expensive accessories, picture-perfect hair at all times, and a take-no-shit attitude in negotiations. Nothing else mattered. Not to them, at least. They wanted the finest things in life, with the finest looking people, at the most favorable rates possible. That was it.

Which meant that Axel loved giving me shit about the accessories. I could already feel him ribbing me about the Hermes bag, which was less mychoice and more of a requirement for the upcoming meeting this weekend. I knew this—it was just part of the life that I lived. I couldn’t show up to a meeting with Eli’s parents carrying the teal handstitched cross-body bag I’d bought on the Venice boardwalk last spring, even if it was my favorite accessory. I needed to bring the items that fit the persona they expected from me. Starting with this $25,000 French handbag.

I knew that my late brother, Chris, would have preferred the teal cross-body bag too. I’d heard his voice in my head when I bought it, which had made me cry into Axel’s shoulder for fifteen minutes in broad daylight.

No. This huge, disgustingly glamorous bag was considered an occupational obligation. With a few other choice four-figure-price-tag items that I had tucked away in my rolling luggage, like the Chanel laptop case and the 24K gold USB drive. These were items I knew I needed. For them. Not for me. None of these things were items I would have picked if I weren’t trying to create the image they wanted for me.

The closer I got to baggage claim, the closer I got to Axel. I imagined he’d be waiting just outside the automatic doors of baggage claim, maybe backed up against the long string of cars that dotted the inner belt of JFK like dirty pearls. I was five steps into baggage claim when my forearms went prickly. Excitement swirled in my chest, so intense I was already breathless. All I could focus on was the sliding doors leading out into the world. My heels clicked against the tile of the floor, wheels of my luggage clacking in time. Axel Axel Axel.

A strong arm caught me around the ribs. I didn’t even have time to gasp, or even blink, but my body knew what had happened before my brain did.

“There you are.”

Axel’s gruff bass traveled through my body like an electrical current. Every inch of me understood his touch, the solid warmth of him as he gathered me against him. I wasn’t sure if I said anything or if my shock—or maybe my relief—had rendered me mute. My face was against the flat plane of his chest, buried into the sweatshirt he wore beneath his trademark—if battered—black leather jacket.

His arms squeezed around me, locking me against him. Tears pricked at the corner of my eyes as I melted into him, clutching him wherever I could grab—the side of his jacket, the waist of his jeans.

“Jesus, Axel,” I blubbered into his chest, heart racing like I’d run a marathon. The hug couldn’t go on long enough. I could hug him until three a.m. and still want more.

He pressed kisses to the top of my head as I drank him in with my senses—the ropy muscle of his arms around me, the outdoors-and-cedar scent of him, as if he carried the woods of Kentucky with him wherever he went.

When his grip around me loosened, I pushed onto my tiptoes, my lips seeking his like two parts of a magnet coming together. Our mouths smashed together, too urgent and greedy for a delicate peck. His hand snaked up the back of my neck, fingers knotting in my hair at the base of my skull. I whimpered through the kiss while he tugged at my hair slowly, gently. Exactly as I liked it. Moisture surged between my legs. Axel knew all my secret spots and loved to tease them. Even in the middle of JFK baggage claim.

“I’m gonna eat you alive, sweet cheeks,” he promised, his lips still pressed to mine. His mouth curled at the corners, and he lifted me off the ground, twirling me in a circle.

“Promise?”

“Promised and notarized.”

I nuzzled him, giggling as he set me back down. But his arms didn’t leave me. I tilted my head to really look at him, drink in all the changes and minute differences since I’d seen him last. His dirty blond hair was longer at the top, disheveled in a way that I wanted to protect. The stubble on his jawline scraped at my fingers as I stroked him, trying to memorize every detail about this moment.

“Get a fucking room,” someone muttered as they walked past. Axel and I stared at each other with big smiles for a moment before bursting into laughter.

“I would if I could afford it,” Axel shouted in the general direction of the person who’d scolded us. “This city is so expensive, you have no idea!”

I collapsed against him, laughter shaking my body.

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