Chapter 17
ALEX
Elijah and I push our way through the early morning crowd at JFK International Airport, sleepy daughters in tow. Emilee’s nerves prickle beneath her skin—she’s never been a fan of flying, though she is a fan of traveling, especially when it means more time with Ana.
We reach their gate and hug our goodbyes. Emilee promises to text me daily. Okay, every other day. Well, “at least once a week, Dad.” Mm-hmm… I don’t see those promises coming to fruition, but I’m completely comfortable with her being in the capable hands of Gabriel.
Afterward, Elijah and I stop at the airport bar for a glass of wine before heading home. I’ve agreed to let Emilee stay four whole weeks in Spain, half of her summer, and I’m already looking forward to some well-earned me time. Or, more accurately… Elijah time.
Cramming into a high-top table, Elijah rubs his foot against my bouncing leg. The bar is packed shoulder-to-shoulder with travelers, and we were lucky to snag a small table tucked away in the corner.
We relax into the moment, sipping our wine and chatting about summer plans. Nothing physical has happened between us since that charged evening at his place, after my migraine episode—but the memory still lingers.
I’m not usually much of a wine drinker, but I find myself enjoying this one—a full-bodied red, according to Elijah. He’s suggested we take a trip upstate to visit a vineyard. I’ve never been to one, so I’m totally on board.
“We’ll make a whole day of it, Alex,” he promises, finishing the last of his pinot noir. His tongue catches the lingering fruity notes from his lip—and, oh how I wish it were my tongue tracing that mouth instead.
My mind drifts, recalling the satiny feel of his plush lips wrapped around my cock, squeezing, tugging, his tongue moving slowly, up and down, up and—
“Any modeling gigs lined up for the summer?” he asks, pinning me with his striking dark eyes, slicing straight through my dirty thoughts.
I have a few photo shoots lined up for the coming weeks, but aside from that, my calendar is wide open. “Just a few local shoots,” I say, sliding off my stool, bracing myself for the traffic we’re about to encounter as we leave JFK and navigate our way through the busy streets of New York City.