Good. She closed her eyes and sank against me. Good.
I did something I’d never done before, and I hoped to never do again. I settled us into the nearest seat and touched her forehead lightly with my lips. Sleep, I told her silently. Sleep, and it will go away for a while.
Once again, I woke up on a plane in Bastian’s arms. When he’d become Bastian to me and not Forge, I couldn’t tell, but he was different now. We were different.
The last thing I remembered was falling asleep, my slumber so deep that even the bloodstained images of Scotland didn’t penetrate the fog. I lifted my head, and my cheek peeled away from his shirt. “Ugh,” I murmured. “We need to get cleaned up.”
“We do,” he agreed, not loosening his arms. “But you needed rest more than you needed a shower.”
“Maybe so. But…” I lifted my hand, dirty and caked with dried blood where my nails had torn off. “Oh my, that looks…bad.” Now that I was awake, I was aware of how my body ached. My very bones seemed to hurt.
“I didn’t mean to push you so hard,” Bastian said sheepishly. “I only thought of getting you away from the Elder’s magic before he captured us both.”
“I know,” I said, still looking at my battered hands. “I suppose I can forgive you.” A bleak attempt at humor, but it was a start, and some of the worry cleared from Bastian’s eyes.
“Shower,” he insisted. “Right now. I can’t take another minute of seeing you covered in dirt and blood.”
“You can’t stand it?” I replied, my face too tight to smile.
“No, I can’t. Into the shower. I have a clean shirt you can wear. I didn’t think to bring—”
“Hush,” I told him. “One of your shirts will be…lovely.”
He settled me into the shower, and I had half a mind to ask him to join me, but we never would have fit. There was a moment of panic when he shut the door, then I stepped under the steaming spray. Reddish-brown water swirled down the drain, and I stood there until it was clear, scrubbing my hair, then running the suds over my body until I was reasonably clean.
His shirt was soft, expensive and hung well below my knees. I had to roll the sleeves up, but a minute later I stepped out of the shower, toweling my hair. “Your turn.”
Forge wasn’t in there nearly as long as I was, and I teased him about being a tree-hugging water conservationist when he emerged wrapped in nothing but a towel, steam misting the air.
Do you know what I need?
Clothes? I teased again. I did feel better, after sleep and a shower. Fragile still, but not quite so…breakable. Forge didn’t have a mark on him, except for a slightly pink line on his side. The same side that had been drenched in blood earlier.
What is that? A bit of shock colored my words.
Knife wound. It’s almost gone.
I shook my head at the utter craziness of that statement. Is this my new life? I wondered, knowing he could hear me. Wanting him to hear me. Will it always be like this?
No. His flat denial bolstered me up. Our lives… He corrected himself, Your life will be whatever you want it to be. You just have to decide what you want.
He watched me carefully from the other side of the cabin, making no move to come closer. Giving me time, and space, to decide what I wanted for myself. But I already knew. I’d wanted Bastian Forge since the day we’d met. No. I’d wanted him for years now, and I had him, right in front of me, wrapped in nothing but a towel.
You, Bastian. I want you.
In a second he had me backed up to the wall, devouring my lips, his hands roving over me like he was afraid I’d disappear. His kiss turned gentle before he pulled away to look me in the eyes. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“I made a mistake, leaving. I should have listened to you.”
His eyes widened slightly.
“Yes, I know. Admitting I screwed up is a big step for me. Don’t make it weird.” I rose on my toes and kissed him softly. “Don’t get used to it, either. Because it doesn’t happen very often.”
He chuffed out a laugh, and then took my lips in another searing kiss that left us both breathing hard, my hands loosening the towel, which fell to the floor at our feet. He was warm—from the shower—I realized, and it was such a novelty that I couldn’t stop touching him.
“The pilot…” I whispered, running my hands up and down his torso, skimming the pink scar, the edge of it slightly raised.
Another of those low, teasing laughs I was growing to love. “He’s flying the plane, Selena, not worrying about what we’re doing. But if it would make you feel better, we can move this to the bedroom.”
“The bedroom, then.” I stroked his lower back, then drifted my hands to his ass. His laugh turned deeper, with a hint of a growl at the end as we slowly made our way to the bedroom, my hands—and his—in constant movement.
The bedroom door was a tight fit, but we managed, squeezing through, our lips fused together, his shirt hiked well above my hips, hopefully not flashing the pilot. Who should be concentrating on flying the plane, I reminded myself hazily. Being with Bastian, having his hands on me, his lips on mine, messed with my ability to think. So much so that it was another minute before I remembered he was deliciously naked, and I was…nearly there myself.
Bastian’s lips fell from my mouth and skimmed my throat, his teeth nipping at my collarbone, before he paused, then sank them in, the sharp nip making my pussy wetter than it had ever been before. Ferocious heat gathered in my core, the kind I knew would coil and tighten before it released. The more
