Page 20

Chapter Twenty

Luke

I sit outside her apartment building, staring at my phone. When the private jet landed and all my texts went through to her, I thought maybe things were going to be different. She unblocked my number… that must mean something, right?

But her rant on the phone, telling me she wants nothing to do with me and I’m nothing to her… Why am I even still sitting here? What’s wrong with me? I called her to tell her I’m outside. I flew all this way for her, ignoring countless NeuroDrive responsibilities, so I could be here for her.

And that’s how she treats me. I sigh, running my hand through my hair. If I had any sense, I’d get the hell out of here.

My phone rings. It’s her again. I think about not answering it. She probably wants to yell at me again, but I came all this way. I might as well see this through.

“Sera,” I say, answering. “Are you going to let me speak?”

“I’m sorry,” she replies. “I’ve got a lot to explain. Are you busy?”

I laugh dryly. “Why the sudden change in tone? Are you trying to mess with my head? Is that it?”

“I didn’t mean to block your number. You’re not going to believe my story.”

What twisted game is she playing? “Forget about the number. Are we going to talk about your rant or just pretend it never happened?”

“My… rant.” A pause. “Wait, did you just call me?”

“Yes.”

“Oh God,” she grunts. "I didn’t know it was you! Graham’s been calling me nonstop. I thought it was him. Luke, hell, I would never speak to you like that. I want nothing to do with you. Are you kidding me? I want everything to do with you.”

“So, why did you block my number?”

“Like I said, it’s a lot to explain.”

“Then it’s lucky I’m outside your apartment.”

When she gasps, a smile spreads across my face. It’s the most sincere smile I’ve had in days – since leaving Vegas. “Are you freaking serious?”

“Yes. I took my private jet. My team is pissed, but I’ve worked myself raw for the company for over a decade. I’m taking this time for me, for us.”

She sniffles, then lets out a sob. “I’m—so—happy…”

“What’s wrong? No, wait. I’m coming up. Apartment number seven, right?”

“Yes.”

I rush from the car, running across the street. She buzzes me up and I take the stairs two at a time, sprinting down the hallway when I reach the first floor. She throws her door open. When I see her – messy hair, oversized hoodie, her eyes red from crying – the world suddenly makes sense again.

She throws herself into my arms, gasping like she’s finally able to breathe after too long without oxygen. I rub my hands over her back, holding her tenderly.

“It’s okay, angel,” I whisper when she sobs against my chest. “Whatever happened, I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere.”

“It all… fell… apart…”

“And I’m here to help put it together. Come on. Let’s sit you down. You can tell me everything.”

I lead her into her apartment, which is stunningly clean and airy. A smile touches my lips when I see her stack of techy books. I gently sit her down on the couch, then hold her hands, looking into her eyes.

“Start at the beginning,” I say.

“The night we got steamy on camera, I was supposed to tell you what I found in Graham’s office,” she murmurs, sniffling.

She grips my hands desperately. I hold hers with the same reassuring pressure.

“It was an email from Damien. He was bragging about what he did, saying they should do more. Graham was behind the sabotage. Damien hired him to do it.”

“Okay,” I say, keeping my fury in check. Sera is innocent in all this.

“Aren’t you mad?”

“You didn’t want to get Graham in trouble. I understand.”

“Only after I had time to process it. I wanted to tell you. I texted you… but it wasn’t you.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Damien threatened Ellie. I went to see her, and Ellie changed the contact number in my phone. She blocked your real number too. I was texting you, I thought, but it wasn’t you. It was Damien.”

“Why?” I growl, trying and failing to contain my anger.

“He lured me to a buh-bar…”

I take a deep breath, rein in my anger, and bring her hands to my lips, kissing them gently. “What did he do?” I ask in a trembling voice, either in fear or anger. I’m not sure anymore.

“He had me meet in at this abandoned bar. Once he had me there, he pulled a gun on me. This next part is the craziest of it all. I stalled him, praying somebody would stop him when a man with a shotgun drove by. There was a standoff. Damien got away. Now the cops are looking for him.”

“And that’s why there’s a cop car on your street.”

She nods. “Yeah. Graham did it to pay for Ellie’s treatment.”

I grind my teeth, picturing Damien, his thin smile, his entitlement.

“He’s not well,” Sera mutters.

“I know,” I growl. “But that doesn’t make it okay. The fucking lowlife . Who does he think he is? I’ll kill him if he ever tries to hurt you again, Sera.”

“I just want you to hold me,” she whispers, pulling herself in for another hug.

I embrace her tenderly, struggling to stay calm as I think about what she's told me.

“This all started with one idea,” I mutter. “Damien suggested a tweak to a decision tree, a small suggestion. I was grateful for it. I jokingly said, ‘At this rate, you’ll be running the company.’ It was a joke , Sera, and then he built it into this whole separate world.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I should’ve been there for you. I don’t want to hear any arguments now.”

“About what?” she whispers.

"You're coming home with me. I'm not leaving you here alone. Damien is still out there. I refuse to let him hurt you. Ever."

She clutches my arm. "Are you sure?"

"You're coming. That's the end of the discussion. Get your bag ready. Actually, pack two or three. I've got plenty of space. But first, don't for a second think I'd come all this way and not kiss my Sparkplug..."

I lean down, kissing the tears from her cheek, and then tenderly press my lips against hers.

She holds my hand as the plane takes off, gazing out the window.

"Are you going to miss Tampa?" I ask.

"Ellie was the only thing keeping me here. But she isn't the woman I thought she was."

I kiss her gently on the cheek. "Are you scared of flying?" I ask.

She turns to me with the most beautiful, shaky smile. Her pale green eyes still hold that sense of adventure despite everything that's happened to her. "Am I squeezing too hard?"

I smirk. "Break my hand if you need to, Sparkplug. It's good to feel needed by you."

"That's the perfect word: needed. It's only the takeoff that messes with me."

"I'm here for you."

She grips me tightly as the plane rises from the runway and pierces the clouds. Once we level off, she releases her hold with a soft sigh. "See? I can be a big girl now."

I brush her gorgeously messy hair from her face, then lean in for a kiss. After, we stay close, staring into each other's eyes.

"Not even a week since Vegas, but it feels like an eternity."

"You've got no idea how happy I am you're here," she murmurs. "That we're together... I thought I was going to have to stay in that apartment alone, waiting for Damien to show up, waiting for everything to go wrong again."

"He won't hurt you ever again," I say firmly. "Nobody will. I'm proud of you."

"Proud?"

"You were threatened. Your life was in danger. You're handling it all remarkably well."

"Except for all the crying and the manic cleaning breakdown, you mean?"

I kiss her again. "Nobody could blame you for that. You've been through a lot. All things considered, you're a hero."

She rolls her eyes with a scoff. "I wouldn't go that far."

For a while, we sit in comfortable silence, looking out the window together. Then she whispers, "It seems silly under the circumstances..."

"Nothing you could say to me would seem silly."

Another eye roll.

"But if you roll your eyes like that again, your book master might have to teach you a lesson."

She bites her lip, her wide eyes igniting a rush of hunger within me. I've tried to keep my instincts at bay considering everything she's been through, but when she looks at me like that, it's Vegas all over again.

"I saw the interview," she murmurs.

"That was a hatchet job," I grunt. "They spliced it up to make it seem like I was flirting with her, taking quotes from one part and inserting them into another. The only true thing was when I said she smelled nice... which was a damn lie, and I only said it because my PR manager looked ready to slap me. I regretted it instantly. Everything else was editing."

"Really? So I smell nicer than her?"

Her voice grows breathy, her tone becoming suggestive. I place my hand on her leg. She's dressed in sweats and a casual T-shirt, but she might as well be wearing her Vegas lingerie; the effect she has on me is the same. My desire strains against my pants, intense and immediate.

"As much as I'd love to join the mile-high club with you," I say fiercely, sliding my hand higher. "I know you've been through a lot..."

She glances around the empty private plane, then bites her lip and moans. "That isn't an answer to my question."

"You and that interviewer aren't even in the same category. You're my obsession, Sparkplug. My everything. You're the only woman I want."

"Maybe your woman needs to forget..."

She grabs my face and pulls me in for a kiss. The moment our lips touch, hunger spikes through me. I can't hold back when I sense the desire radiating from her. I grab her hips and pull her into my lap.

She sits facing me, her body pressed against mine, gasping and moaning between our hungry kisses. We're like starving people who have finally found sustenance.

I wrap my arms around her, shifting my hips, pressing against her through our clothes. She sinks her fingernails into my neck.

"I want you," she whimpers. "I want to..."

"Join the mile-high club with me?"

She laughs, a sweet sound after so many tears, flooding me with warmth beyond mere desire. "Seriously, you're a mind reader..."

"I'm just good at putting ideas into your head."

"Nope. I had the idea the second we got on this plane."

I grab her hips and lift her up. She gasps as I grab her shirt and pull it over her head. She lifts her arms, revealing her bra. Her curves accentuated beautifully.

"They won't come back here, will they?" she asks hesitantly.

I smirk. "I may have told them not to when we boarded..."

She nudges me playfully. "So, you had this planned, huh?"

"I prepared for all outcomes."

Her laughter transforms into moans when I unclip her bra and press my face against her skin, caressing her, worshipping her. She runs her hand along the outside of my pants, intensifying my need.

I slide my hands down her body, grabbing her sweatpants and underwear in one eager motion, then pulling them down quickly. Nudging her onto the chair, I kneel, sinking my hands into her legs, kissing up her thigh toward her glistening center.

"You smell far better," I growl.

She laughs, stroking her fingers through my hair. "Are you serious?"

"You smell like a feast – my feast."

Her moans take on that tempting, urgent tone when I press my face against her. I taste her, completely entranced by her. Her taste is addictive, intoxicating.

I lavish attention on her most sensitive spot, acutely aware of her moans, her euphoria, her breathy pants as she rushes toward release. I increase my pace and pressure until her hips move against me.

She digs her nails into my head as she finishes, shuddering all over, lost in pleasure.

I stand, freeing myself from my pants, fully aroused. Out the window, clouds drift by.

"We're on top of the world again," I groan.

She reaches for me. "This is better than the restaurant."

I gasp when she glides her hand up and down, her touch electric. I almost let her continue, but I can't resist the allure of her.

Leaning down, I press the button that lets the chair recline completely. She laughs in delight, wriggling up the seat and spreading her legs.

"Fuck," I groan, taking in the sight of her.

I lie atop her, kissing her neck, then her breasts, then guide myself to her. She sinks her nails into me, tugging me closer.

"Fuck me like you mean it," she whimpers.

Her confidence makes her even sexier. The confidence that awakened in Vegas is soaring on this plane.

"Be careful what you wish for," I groan. "It'll mean taking you hard. Taking you so fast that your gorgeous body shakes for me."

"Do it," she whimpers. "Do it, Luke. Do it."

"If you're going to tempt your book master to take what's his, you can't expect me to resist..."

She moans loudly when I push deep inside of her. Her body embraces me completely, heightening every sensation.

I withdraw, then drive in even harder, causing her to gasp and clutch me tighter. "Yes, yes," she moans, shifting her hips.

I keep my body close to hers, her breath whispering over my neck, her breasts pressed against me, our bodies moving as one. This is lovemaking. This is what claiming my woman feels like. This is connection. It is everything I never dreamed would be mine. This is meaning.

We move faster together, frantically, our hips rolling in perfect harmony. The plane rumbles beneath us, turbulence adding to the pleasure, intensifying every sensation.

The pressure builds within me, a crescendo approaching its peak.

"You—need—to—come—again," I snarl.

"Fuck, fuck," she gasps.

"Come for me," I demand.

"Fuck, Luke. Fuck."

I take it as a command, moving with pure abandon. Soon, I feel her muscles tense as her climax ripples through her body, her inner walls pulsing around me. I sink my face into her neck, breathing in her scent, as my release overtakes me.

We hold each other as I soften inside her. I slip out, but I don't let her go, keeping her in my arms. She kisses my cheek, then hugs me tightly.

"Seriously, call me a broken record. But I'm so happy you came to me."

"Me too," I say. "The only thing I regret is letting you go. Never again."

"Luke—"

"Never. Again. Something magical happened to us in Vegas. You changed me, Sparkplug."

"You changed me too."

"No... I just helped you find out who you always were."

"An aspiring member of the mile-high club?"

I chuckle, kissing her neck again. "If we stay like this, with your naked body pressed against mine, there's a chance we'll be double members."

"So soon?"

"You have no idea how desirable you are, Sera. No idea."