Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
Ispend the rest of the flight alternating between pacing the room I’ve trapped myself in and lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Watching you, fighting with you—fuck, getting the shit slapped out of me by you—all I could think about was how good your pussy would feel, wrapped around my cock. How badly I wanted to know what your cum tastes like. What kinds of sounds you’d make for me while I filled you up with mine.
He didn’t mean it.
None of it was true.
Like everything else Dean Mercer’s ever done or said to me in the two years I’ve been forced to tolerate his presence, it was just a way to get under my skin. Irritate me. Shock me.
And as usual, it worked.
Mostly because he wasn’t wrong.
You might think I’m a rude, conceited, couthless asshole—but I’m willing to bet just about everything I own that your panties are soaked right now and all I had to do was whisper in your ear.
And now, because I was stupid and impulsive, I don’t get to spend the next two weeks in blissful solitude, working on my tan and crying about the mess my meticulously ordered life has become over room service ice cream.
No.
Because I deviated from the plan, I get to spend the next two weeks being irritated and annoyed by the one person who also happens to be the only man who’s ever made me feel… anything, really.
After Gwen’s disastrous bachelorette weekend in the Hamptons, I came home and threw myself headlong into my relationship with Allister.
I was all in. I said yes to every invitation.
Dinner. The ballet. Even the opera, which I secretly despise.
I said yes. Allowed myself to be pursued, knowing full well where it was heading.
That a man like Allister wouldn’t pursue a woman like me unless he was looking for a commitment.
We shared our first kiss at my sister’s wedding and when an appropriate of time had passed, I invited him to my apartment for dinner where we had sex between the main course and dessert.
When he realized it was my first time, he was almost unbearably ceremonious about it while I laid there and tried to feel something even remotely close to what I felt during those twenty minutes I spent alone in my room with Dean, that night.
He wasn’t wrong about that either.
I might think Dean Mercer is a rude, conceited, couthless asshole but I also know that the entire time he was standing over me while he whispered filthy words in my ear, all I could think about was how badly I wanted him to kiss me.
How much I wish he had kissed me that night.
How angry I am at Paige—not because she slept with my fiancé, but because I know that if she hadn’t interrupted us that night, my first time would’ve been completely different.
It would’ve been with Dean.
And being with him, even if it was just for one night, would’ve changed everything.
It would’ve changed me.
“Ms. Blackwell?” My name, muffled and hesitant, is punctuated by a polite knock on the closed bedroom door. “The pilot is asking that you prepare for landing.”
In other words, it’s time to stop being a coward and come out of hiding.
Sitting up, I throw my legs over the side of the bed. “Thank you, Tonya,” I answer her while I stand. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
Making my way to the small en suite bathroom, I take a look at myself in the mirror.
Nearly six hours of crying off layers of expertly applied bridal make-up has left me looking like a drowned raccoon.
Using several washcloths and the make-up remover someone was thoughtful enough to leave in one of the drawers, I scrub what’s left of it off before brushing my hair.
Dislodging a few more pins, I gather them up and use them to secure my hair into a messy bun on top of my head before looking at my reflection in the mirror.
My eyes are still a bit puffy and my cheeks are red from the scrubbing but at least I don’t look like someone tried to drown me.
If you can stand in front of three hundred people and a priest, and tell them that Allister never loved you, you can walk out that door and pretend that the prospect of being stuck in this plane with Dean Mercer doesn’t make you wish for a parachute.
Right.
I can do this.
Exiting the bathroom, there’s another knock on the door. This one louder. Heavier. “Come on, Megalodon—stop being such a—”
Reaching for the door, I throw it open before he can finish insulting me. “You know my name—my full name. I know you do because you said it earlier,” I remind him while glaring up at his stupid, perfect face. “So, why do you still insist on calling me by every ridiculous name you can think of?”
“Because I like watching your eye twitch,” he tells me with a grin. “Are you done hiding?”
“Hiding?” I give him an as if eye roll even though that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. “Who would I possibly be hiding from?”
“Me.” He says it softly, his electric blue gaze hooking itself into mine. “You’re hiding from me, Mills.” Leaning forward just a bit, he drops his tone to a whisper. “From what I said to you earlier.”
He’s just baiting you, Millie.
Trying to get under your skin.
Trying to make you squirm.
Just like he always does.
“That would be silly of me, considering we both know you didn’t mean a word of it.” Forcing myself to stand my ground, I don’t look away. “You only said it to get a rise out of me.”
He makes a rough sound in the back of his throat while his gaze drops to my mouth. “Did I?”
“Yes,” I bark at him even though I’m suddenly not sure of anything anymore. “Just like you’re trying to get a rise out of me now.”
Lifting his gaze to mine again, he gives me that maddening smirk of his. “Is it working?”
Giving into the urge to run, I push my way past him, into the main cabin. “Has anyone ever told you how unbearably and unwarrantedly full of yourself you are?”
“Just you,” he says while he follows behind me down the aisle. “And trust me, Mills—it’s warranted. It’s warranted as fuck.”
“Yes, well…” Sitting in the first seat I see, I buckle my safety belt before looking out the window. “I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it, won’t I?”
I can see land, a line of intense green, bracketed by the deep blue of sea and sky. A wall of white, sparkling like a jewel, nestled in its center. From the corner of my eye, I watch while Dean moves to sit in the seat directly across from me and buckles his own belt.
“You ever consider the alternative?”
Genuinely confused, I look at him. “Alternative to what?”
“To whatever bullshit scenario you’ve got cooked up in your head.” Dean’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You ever think maybe I was telling you the truth?”
Watching you, fighting with you—fuck, getting the shit slapped out of me by you—all I could think about was how good your pussy would feel, wrapped around my cock. How badly I wanted to know what your cum tastes like. What kinds of sounds you’d make for me while I filled you up with mine…
He’s just baiting you, Millie. Even though he’d never admit it, his ego is bruised over what happened between Allister and Paige and he’s just using you for a boost.
Don’t fall for it.
Not again.
Fighting the urge to squirm in my seat, I look away, focusing my attention on the horizon. “No.”
“Why not?” Dean asks, his tone caught somewhere between curiosity and caution.
Because two years ago, you had me. In the span of an hour I was ready to risk it all—give you everything—but when it came down to it, you didn‘t want me. You got up and walked away and the next time I saw you, you were Paige’s date at my sister’s wedding.
Ignoring him I press the button embedded in my arm rest that activates the intercom that communicates directly with the pilot. “We’re ready to land when you are.”
“Roger that, Ms. Blackwell,” he answers back. “We just received word from the tower that we’re clear to come in.”
When it becomes clear I have no intention of answering him, Dean makes a rough, frustrated sound in the back of his throat. “You know, I still don‘t know where we’re going,” he says to the side of my face. “I don’t even have my passport.”
“You don’t need it,” I tell him with a flat smile. “We’re still technically in the U.S.”
“Okay…” Looking out the window, Dean shakes his head. “You mind telling me where in the U.S.?”
Before I can answer him, the pilot does it for me.
“Prepare for landing—” His announcement is accompanied by the faint whir of the landing gear being deployed. “welcome to Hawthorne Cay.”