17. Hannah Jane
17
HANNAH JANE
“ Y ou’re kidding me!” Mel squealed, bouncing on top of my bed while I sat on top of my bulging suitcase and zipped it up. “So, you’re serious? You two have been secretly hooking up since the wedding?”
“ Secretly being the operative word,” I said with a glare.
“My lips are sealed. Kristin’s too,” Mel promised with a turn of an imaginary key. Her back flopped against my tufted comforter. “But why all the sneaking around? I mean, it’s not like any of us would have a problem with it. I was starting to worry about you—it’s been a while since you’ve been with anyone.”
I dipped into the bathroom, perched a bag on the edge of the vanity, and added every toiletry I owned with one fell swoop of my arm.
One of the perks that came with flying on a boujee private plane was the lack of weight restrictions on luggage. Which was a great thing for me because I wasn’t exactly what you would call low maintenance.
“Thank you—again—for taking care of my car. You’re saving me a hell of a lot of lies. ”
Melissa was letting me park my car at her apartment complex in Morehead City. I didn’t want to explain why I was flying to New York for a few days, so I just told the poker club I was going to visit my family.
“No worries. Your car’s nicer than mine,” Mel said. “I might drive it to work.”
“Be my guest. Just don’t let the boys catch you if they come by the hospital.”
Mel shrugged. “Steve still avoids me like the plague.”
I offered a sympathetic smile. “Are things still weird between y’all?”
“A little,” she sighed, twisting one of the ends of her braids around her finger. “I think we’re good at pretending like things aren’t awkward for the sake of everyone else, but they are. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut.”
Poor thing. She was still heartbroken after she admitted to Steve that she’d harbored a crush on him and he shot her down.
“You’ll find yours,” I promised.
“Have you found yours?” she asked.
“No,” I said matter-of-factly. “We’re just… I found the one person I can have sex with, with no feelings. Do you know how rare that is for me? I’m not a sex on the third date kind of girl. You know me—the clothes don’t come off until there are labels and exclusive, long-term commitments. I still have needs. I just like not having to wait months to have them taken care of.”
Usually poorly, but I kept that to myself.
Mel snickered. “The planet is grateful for your lowered use of battery-operated devices.”
I rolled my eyes.
“So, things aren’t—you know—like, exclusive between you and him?”
I began to tell her the conditions Isaac and I had set for our deal—how we’re open to going on dates with other people, but sex was exclusive. How condoms are mandatory, and the sex comes with no-frills and no feelings. The biggest rule of all: tell no one.
Kristin and Mel became casualties of that rule when they happened to hear elicit sounds coming from Maddie and Luca’s wine cellar. The thong-gag didn’t do a damn thing.
It was hot as Hades, though. The memory made my spine tingle and sent heat pooling low in my belly.
“But that brings us back to the secrecy,” Mel said as she helped me lug my bags downstairs without even breaking a sweat.
I, however, was winded.
“Why?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I don’t do this. I don’t want everyone to think I’m having some kind of crisis. Especially since I’m doing it with him.”
Mel winced. “What’s so bad about him? I mean, yeah, so Isaac has a reputation, but so did Luca. Look how that turned out.”
“Luca has a freaking heart of gold. He practically worships the ground Maddie walks on.” I paused, glancing at the couch in the sitting room where Isaac and I made out like horny teenagers.
“Did you ever stop to think that maybe Isaac is the same way? I mean…” Mel fanned herself. “Girl, the way he was looking at you during Thanksgiving? Hot damn, Mama—he was about to peel your clothes off with his eyes.”
Under my breath, I mumbled, “He stole my panties at the dinner table.”
“He what?! ” Mel shrieked.
I fought off my smile by biting my lower lip. “No judgment zone?”
“Hell no. We’re southern—we judge. But you know the poker club doesn’t judge each other. Just everyone else.”
I mean, she had a point.
I looked down at the pointed toes of my high heels—the new ones Isaac bought for me—and smiled to myself. “He leaned over between bites of mashed potatoes and turkey and told me to take my panties off.”
“No way!” she gasped. “And you did?”
I grimaced, but nodded.
“Hell yeah!” Mel screamed at the top of her lungs. “I knew you were secretly a wild woman behind all your ladylike skirts and pearl necklaces!”
I shook my head. “Again, rule number two: absolute secrecy.”
Mel giggled and tapped her fingers together like a mad scientist. “Look at you, jetting off to New York City for a sex-cation.”
“Not a sex-cation,” I said, pointing a finger at her. “We’re just getting out of Beaufort so we don’t have to sneak around so much. I mean, sex at the inn is getting kind of boring. And Chase being two doors down complicates things. He’s way too chill with the whole mi casa es su casa concept.”
Her jaw dropped. “You had sex at work?”
“Not while I was working!”
“Anyway,” she said, “Back to the whole sex-cation thing. He’s flying you to New York to wine and dine you? You go, girl!”
“Not a sex-cation,” I reminded her.
“If you’re not like, dating, how long do you plan on keeping up this, uh, situationship? ”
“Enemies with benefits,” I corrected. “We agreed to six weeks. It ends the week before Christmas. Hopefully, he’s fucked me out of his system by then, and I’ve learned not to get attached to a hypothetical future with someone.”
Mel looked out the window as a car pulled up to the house. “Do you see a hypothetical future with him?”
I handed Mel my car keys and shouldered my handbag.
“No,” I said, swallowing thickly. My heart pounded into my throat. That one syllable made me feel sick to my stomach.
The doorbell rang. I opened the door and was greeted by the driver Isaac sent .
Even though Isaac was in Beaufort, he stayed the night at Maddie and Luca’s house. Secrecy’s sake aside, he insisted that I should get the full experience. So, he sent the driver to my house—alone—and promised to meet me at the airstrip.
Mel gave me a hug and told me to have the time of my life.
The airstrip was less than a mile from my house. It was fairly bare-bones, mainly used for tourists to hang glide, and aviation enthusiasts to fly and house their Cessnas.
The old man who ran the place offered the occasional flying lesson, but he was slowing down with age. On rare occasions, the airstrip was graced with the presence of a wealthy traveler flying in a private plane.
I’d met a few big names over the years. I wasn’t a stranger to seeing opulent displays of wealth. The Taylor Creek Inn was a popular spot for celebrities to stay when they were in town, whether they were just bringing their yacht to port or flying in for an event like the Big Rock Tournament. Still, being chauffeured through the gates and onto the tarmac had me feeling lightheaded.
The car door opened and the outside chill flooded in. “If you’ll follow me, Miss Hayes,” the driver said, offering me his hand and helping me out of the town car. “Mr. Lawson is already on board and is expecting you.”
Well, he’d better be expecting me. This was his idea, after all.
But I didn’t say any of that. I smiled and said, “Thank you,” as I straightened up and smoothed out my fitted pencil skirt. I wasn’t exactly sure what Isaac had in mind, so I went for the safe option—stylish business attire.
I gave myself bonus points for the surprise I had underneath.
Nerves slithered up my body like a snaking vine as the driver led me across the tarmac to the clamshell staircase that awaited my arrival. I steadied my breathing to the rhythmic click of my heels against the asphalt.
Gripping the handrail, I climbed up the stairs and was greeted by a lone flight attendant. Blonde hair mixed with gray streaks was pulled back in a low chignon. The trim suit she wore had no company logos.
“Good morning, Miss Hayes. Welcome aboard,” she said as she motioned to the right.
Isaac sat with his ankle propped on top of his knee. His blue suit was striking, as was the wide smile on his face.
He stood, buttoned his suit jacket, and leaned in for a kiss. “Good morning,” he said, sliding his hand onto my hip.
I pecked his lips and smiled. “Hi, yourself.” I couldn’t help how shaky my voice sounded. I was in a private freaking jet with Isaac Lawson.
The oversized leather seats looked more comfortable than a La-Z-Boy recliner. On the other side of the cabin was a sleek couch. An arrangement of fresh-cut calla lilies in a vase added a cheery touch. Apart from the seatbelts and emergency exit signs, it didn’t look like an airplane at all.
Sensing my nerves, Isaac cupped my cheeks in his hands and kissed me again. Slowly, this time. Deeply. “Just breathe, Princess. Enjoy the ride.”
The flight attendant approached us, carrying an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne resting inside. “Miss Hayes, Mr. Lawson, if you’re both ready to depart, the captain is ready for takeoff.”
Isaac gave her some rich as hell billionaire signal of approval. She set the ice bucket on the table, popped the champagne, and poured two glasses. He took both, handed me one, then motioned for us to take our seats.
Side by side in clouds of leather cushions, Isaac held up his champagne flute and toasted. “To living life.”
“Cheers.” I smiled, clinking my glass against his and taking a sip. Alcohol was a good idea. It wasn’t enough to get me drunk or even slightly buzzed, but it did take the edge off.
Who cared if it wasn’t even ten in the morning yet ?
Isaac handed our empty champagne flutes to the attendant and then reached across my lap. Without a word, he fastened my seatbelt for me. My lips parted. It was the smallest gesture, but it was enough for me to feel that warning thud in my heart.
The plane taxied to the end of the runway, and Isaac relaxed in his seat. He laid his hand on my thigh, tracing the hem of my skirt. Skating his fingers over my sheer black stockings. I bit my lip, trying to contain my reaction to the heat that pooled low in my belly.
“You’re awfully quiet,” he observed, looking down at my face.
“I’m out of my element,” I admitted. It was the truth. Every other interaction had been on my turf. The Taylor Creek Inn. My house. Hell, our quickie in Maddie’s wine cellar had been my idea. Walking straight into Isaac’s territory felt like crossing enemy lines. I was bracing for fire from all directions.
Isaac let out a low chuckle, scraping his thumbnail across his lower lip as he shook his head and grinned. “What would make you feel in your element?”
I looked up, meeting his ocean blue eyes. They were crinkled in the corners with amusement. “Yelling at you. Fighting with you. Calling each other names.”
“We haven’t done that in a while,” he mused.
I tucked my hair behind my ears. “And maybe we haven’t hated each other in a while.”
Isaac stared at my lips. “Does that make you nervous?”
Thud. There it was again. That pang inside, warning me to run away before I could get hurt.
Because he would hurt me. If I let him in—if I let myself get attached like I always did—he would wreck me. Deal or no deal, Isaac held all the cards.
“A little,” I said quietly.
The plane leveled out as we reached cruising altitude and the pilot flipped off the seatbelt sign .
His voice lowered into a near-sinister rumble. “What would make you less nervous?”
I swallowed. “The status quo.”
“Hating each other, you mean.”
I nodded.
Without a word, Isaac stood up and removed his navy suit jacket. He draped it across the slim couch before turning and rolling up one crisp white dress shirt sleeve and then the other. The matching blue vest was a stark contrast to his white button up and charcoal necktie.
Holy hell, the man could wear a vest.
“Stand up,” he snapped as he finished cuffing his shirt sleeves just above his elbows.
I fumbled with the seatbelt for a moment before I finally got the darn thing unclasped. Isaac made no move to help. He simply waited for me to obey.
“Raise your skirt.”
Back the hell up. “Excuse me?”
He twisted that stupid fuckboy ring on his finger. “Raise your skirt, Hannah.”
“We’re in an airplane ,” I hissed as if it wasn’t obvious. I looked around frantically, praying that the flight attendant wasn’t within earshot.
Isaac took one confident step toward me. “I’m aware. But this is my aircraft, and my staff knows better than to bother me unless I request their presence.”
It was the first time I’d heard him sound like the billionaire he was.
He wasn’t just my best friend’s husband’s best friend. He wasn’t just the jackass best man at a wedding I planned.
He was powerful. Intimidating.
He was Isaac Lawson.
With shaking fingers, I reached down and held the hem of my skirt, inching it upwards. I stopped with my skirt just below my ass, revealing the top of my thigh-high stockings.
“All the way,” he said, pointing his fingers at my skirt.
I bit my lip and did as he said.
There I stood, in the middle of a damn airplane. My skirt was around my waist. I was in a pair of fuck-me heels and sheer black stockings. Garters skated up my hips and waist to clasp with the lace bustier that was hidden under my blouse.
And no panties.
How did I get here again?
Isaac let a fleeting smile slip, but quickly buried the emotion. “Bend over,” he clipped. “I want your face in the seat and your ass in the air.”
I turned and rested my forearms in the plush leather cushion. My ankles bobbled when the plane rumbled through a bumpy patch and I bent my knees to steady myself.
Isaac stood behind me. The space between us was electric. I couldn’t see him, but he saw everything. My stockings. The garter straps that ran up my body, disappearing under my clothes. My bare ass. My seeping wet pussy.
He dragged the tip of his finger over the curve of my ass and then nudged my bent knee with his. “Get that ass nice and high for me. Arch your back.”
My face burned hot with embarrassment, but it was no match for the fire blazing inside of me.
I heard the sound of his zipper lowering. The tear of foil. Isaac thrust into my pussy, nearly ramming my head down into the seat. There was no foreplay. No frills. Just dirty, depraved sex.
Neither of us were prepared to last long. Isaac put me on a hair trigger, and it felt damn good knowing I put him just as off balance. In just a few hard pumps, Isaac and I came together.
He walked to the lavatory and disposed of the condom. We traded places and I cleaned up, fixing my hair and adjusting my outfit. When I returned, Isaac was seated. A tray of assorted pastries and two cups of coffee that looked suspiciously familiar were in front of us.
I sat down, smoothing out my skirt and tucking one ankle behind the other, just like I’d been taught. Isaac handed me one of the coffees and draped his arm around my shoulders.
“Let’s try this again,” he said as he picked up his own cup and took a sip. “Good morning, Hannah Jane.”
I laughed and took a sip. “Good morning, Lawson.” It wasn’t just the latte from Queen’s he provided that soothed my anxiety. The status quo had been maintained. All we needed was a mind-blowing, orgasmic reminder that we were here for carnal desires only.
“How’s your coffee?”
“Perfect. How’d you know what I order?”
Isaac chuckled. “One of the perks of covering your insane caffeine habit is that the baristas know you well enough that when I walked in and asked if they knew what Hannah Jane Hayes usually ordered, they did.” He raised a judgmental eyebrow. “You drink a lot of coffee.”
I ignored the fact that he went to fetch my coffee personally rather than sending his assistant, and crooked my finger, beckoning him to lean down. When he did, I whispered, “Wanna know a secret?”
“Hm?”
“Caffeine keeps me from killing people. My coffee addiction is basically a public service.”
He grinned. “Noted.”
Isaac reached for the almond croissant, but I smacked his hand away. If he got the coffee from Queen’s, there was a pretty good chance that croissant was made by Maddie or one of her minions. They were my favorite.
Isaac wisely chose the blueberry danish .
We ate our breakfast in silence. It was comforting. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been relaxed enough on a date that I didn’t feel the need to fill every moment with conversation, or interrogate the guy to see if he lived up to my standards. Isaac finished off his coffee and thanked the flight attendant when she cleared our dishes.
“Was that my official Welcome to the Mile High Club breakfast?” I said, looking out the window at the endless horizon of fluffy, white clouds.
Isaac laughed. “Why am I not surprised that you haven’t joined the mile high club until now?”
“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you joined a long time ago.” I looked around the plane. “Do I even want to know how many times you’ve done it in here?”
His smile fell a little bit. Just enough that I knew my comment stung. He licked his lips and laughed it off. “Yeah, we probably shouldn’t talk about my sexual escapades.”
“What should we talk about then?” I asked.
“You,” he said. “I want to know everything about you, Hannah Jane Hayes.”