Chapter 8
GUNNAR
My brain struggled to catch up to the present moment. At Sebastian's prodding, I'd abandoned a multi-billion-dollar space shuttle capsule in the ocean. There was no way in hell Paskal Aeronautics would give me that promotion now.
On the speedboat, Sebastian couldn't keep his hands off me.
As wonderful as he smelled, and as safe as I felt pressed against his side, I couldn't get used to it.
He was Sebastian Paska, and I was nobody.
Less than nobody, now that I'd abandoned my shuttle post and went AWOL.
Did military terms apply to private space missions? I didn't want to find out.
Another fact I learned on the speedboat: I didn't get seasick when the boat was moving as fast as a car on the freeway, or maybe even faster.
Yes, I knew boats could go that fast, in theory, but experiencing it for myself was as thrilling as it was disappointing.
How much gasoline had we burned on that trip?
Not ten minutes later, we docked in a boathouse beside a fucking yacht, of all things, and now we were on our way to a private airstrip where we would board Sebastian's jet and fly off to who knew where.
Sebastian looked good in his flight suit, better in his compression gear, and best after shifting back from his wolf form, but this …
if I had a type, confident, competent men would be it.
Until now, I hadn't seen Sebastian as either.
Power came with all that money, but I'd only seen him in the shadow of his father.
Now, I saw the real Sebastian Paska, CEO of Paskal Entertainment. He was the sexiest person alive.
He was also my mate. My wolf wanted to sit in his lap and lick his face.
I couldn't explain it. He was still the man who infuriated me at every turn for being a spoiled nepo baby, but he was also seriously hot when he rushed me onto the sleek jet and ordered the pilot, "Wheels up, ASAP."
A beautiful Black woman in blue scrubs, her hair piled on top of her head in an intricate bun, greeted us in the main cabin. Sebastian surprised me by pulling her into a hug. "Good to see you, Amber."
He kept ahold of her elbow and walked her toward the back of the plane.
"I didn't pack you a bag," the burly islander named Lonnie called after them.
"We'll buy new clothes when we get there."
I opened my mouth to argue, but Sebastian silenced me with a slight shake of his head. "Let me do this for you."
I hadn't expected the sincerity in his gaze, nor his kind tone.
He motioned me to a comfy leather reclining seat with his chin. I'd never even flown first class, but this posh leather seat alone probably cost more than a commercial airliner.
He disappeared into the back of the plane with Amber and Lonnie. A few minutes later, Lonnie returned.
"They're still catching up," he gripped the back of my seat and leaned in. "We all know each other from undergrad. Seb and I were roommates at UC Berkeley, and Amber had the unlucky fortune of being our TA for molecular biology. We almost burned the building down trying to make sodium hydroxide."
"How?" Most people electrified a brine solution.
"We didn't have any salt." Lonnie laughed. "I still don't know what happened, but Amber will never let us live it down."
He patted my shoulder, and I wondered if he treated everyone like they were his new best friend, or if he was being kind as a favor to Sebastian. "Anyway, buckle your seatbelt and try to catch a nap."
He strode to the door we'd entered behind the cockpit and threw me a wave over his shoulder before exiting. A moment later, hydraulic controls hissed as the door raised into position. It snapped shut with enough pressure to plug my ears. It took two swallows to pop them.
The engines purred, and still Sebastian didn't return. I buckled my seatbelt and clung to the armrests of my chair as the plane sped down the runway and then lifted into the air. Even after I'd been to space, I still hated takeoffs.
Once the plane leveled out, the seatbelt sign dimmed. While I unbuckled the fancy latch, Amber returned with a large bag in hand and a stethoscope around her neck. She offered me a flute of bubbling clear liquid.
I took the glass from her and swirled it, looking for discoloration or pill particles.
"It's sparkling water," she said. "Sorry if you were expecting a flight attendant. We're a little short-staffed."
She sat in the seat beside me and dropped her bag to the floor before offering her hand. Her brown fingers tipped with sapphire blue nails were warm in mine.
"I'm Dr. Monroe, but you can call me Amber. Sebastian and I have been friends for a long time. It's always good to meet new friends of his."
I shook her hand, but my throat went dry when I tried to think of something to say. Doctors made me nervous, though I'd never had an unpleasant experience. I couldn't even remember a time when I'd been sick. Most doctor's visits had been for routine physicals.
Besides, I'd clenched my jaw shut when she said, "new friends of his," in a tone that implied Sebastian and I were something more. What had he told her about me?
Unfazed, Amber continued, "He asked me to take your vitals. He said you've got the same … condition he does."
I held out my arm for the blood pressure cuff she presented, and then allowed her to examine my ears and throat. The sight of the needle and empty vial sent my pulse skyrocketing.
"I only need one vial of blood, and then Sebastian's going to drop me in LA before you continue to your next destination."
"There are other destinations?" I asked.
She shrugged. "He's keeping it a secret, so it doesn't get back to his dad. It's all too James Bond for me."
She tapped my leg with the empty vial and motioned for me to roll up my sleeve. "I'll run some tests in our mainland lab and send them to Sebastian in a few days."
"Where is he?" I asked.
She tied a rubber tourniquet above my elbow and tapped the vein with her fingers. "Taking a shower."
I scoffed. Of course, the jet had a shower.
"He said to send you back once I'm finished here." She winked. "It's none of my business, but are you a member of the mile high club, Mr. Grayson?"
The question caught me off guard. "No," I sputtered. "Not interested." The thought that Sebastian had suggested it filled me with so much rage, I didn't feel the needle slide into my vein.
"That's it." She grinned like she'd been trying to piss me off, and it worked. "Make a fist for me. Okay, not so tight, or we'll have a mess."
I might have overdone it with the white knuckles and clenched jaw. Sebastian was the sexiest person alive, but that didn't mean I wanted to fuck him right here and now.
Amber extracted the needle and taped a cotton ball over the puncture mark with one practiced move. Then, she tossed the needle into a biohazard pouch and tucked it carefully into the side pocket of her bag. "All done. You can still join him, if you want."
"I'll wait here, thanks."
She smirked. "Are you sure you're his mate?"
"Who said I was?"
"He did." She held her hands up in a defensive gesture. "This is the first I've heard of mates. I'm sorry for being crass." She leaned forward and patted my knee. "I hope the blood tests will tell us more. I took some of his blood, too."
"Oh." I felt better knowing she'd poked him in the arm, as well.
She held out her hand again, and I shook it. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Grayson. If you are his mate, I hope to see you around once this mess blows over."
The sharp tang of ocean salt filled my nostrils, and she walked past me toward the scent. I was too overwhelmed to care where she went.
"Hey." Sebastian plopped down into the seat she'd vacated. His hair was still wet, and he wore a fluffy gray full-length bathrobe with a giant "P" embroidered on the right breast. "I found some sweats that might fit you, if you want to take a shower."
"What, no mile-high club?"
He frowned. "No. Why would I … Dr. Amber Maleficent Monroe."
She chortled from somewhere behind me. She reappeared with another glass, this one filled with champagne. "You win. I tried to entice him to join you, but he refused."
"We don't really know each other that well yet." He pinched the bridge of his nose and flashed me an apologetic grin. "Maybe on our return trip, we can break in the old jet."
"Like you haven't slept with hundreds of men." I rolled my eyes.
"Not on the plane," he said. "Or the speedboat, come to think of it."
"Ah, but the yacht!" Amber sank into the seat across from him and clinked their glasses together. "Remember that orgy we threw for your twenty-second birthday?"
Their easy conversation reminded me of the first day at a new foster home. They had history between them, while I was an outsider. Still, their banter was like a train wreck, and I couldn't look away.
"It was not an orgy." Sebastian shook his head, though his face was brightening to the shade of a strawberry. "Lonnie and some friends got carried away, that's all."
"And where were you?" As much as I hated to admit it, Amber asked all the right questions. From her tone, she already knew the answers.
"I was on a video call with my dad. He wanted me to move to SoHo for the summer. When I finally convinced him that wasn't happening, Lonnie and his friends were asleep in my very sticky bed."
She sipped her champagne, looking pleased with herself while Sebastian blushed. He flinched and hopped to his feet, looking anxiously around the cabin.
"I'm so sorry. I've been incredibly rude." He motioned for me to follow him. "Let me show you around the plane. Make yourself at home. There's plenty of time for you to shower and rest before we get to LA."
Amber gave me an encouraging nod before downing the rest of her champagne and following us to the middle of the plane with a bar on one side. An eight-seater booth took up the opposite wall. I emptied my untouched water into the sink while she poured herself another glass of champagne.
Sebastian waited for me, looking increasingly embarrassed.
Amber hovered over my shoulder, her presence making him more uncomfortable by the moment.
I flipped the glass upside down in the dish strainer.
The moment I released it, Sebastian grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me past a bathroom and through a door much like the one into the plane's cockpit.
My adrenaline spiked when he slid the lock home. "Welcome to the private cabin. It's not much to look at."
It was more than I'd ever expected to find in the back of an airplane.
We walked down a small hallway into a bedroom.
The bed took up the entire space between the padded sides of the plane and the wall at the back.
Turning, I found a small closet and a standing shower enclosure with a clear plastic curtain.
"Before you ask, yes, it's an unnecessary convenience, but the shower felt wonderful after so many days without."
"I'm not arguing." The thought of washing the last few days in space off my skin once and for all sounded better than a cheeseburger and fries at this point. "Where are you going to be while I shower?"
"Oh. Um …"
I pointed to the door. "You locked us in here."
"That was rash. I'm sorry. I'll be just outside. Holler if you need anything. I'll hear you." He tugged at his ear and grinned. "Wolf, you know."
How could he go from being suave and confident to a complete mess in one second flat?
"You can stay, if you want."
He growled and shoved me up against the wall, sniffing my neck. He leaned up, his mouth less than an inch from mine.
"I meant if you wanted a nap." I pointed to the bed.
He turned my chin the other way, to the shower stall and its clear plastic curtain. My cheeks burned with embarrassment.
"I don't know what Amber, uh, Dr. Monroe, said out there, but that's not who I am." He backed away. "Take your shower, Gunnar."
"Wait," I said as he reached for the door lock. "What's the Vegas Suite?"
"Back at the resort?" He chuckled. "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. It's a codeword for our staff to make up elaborate stories, complete with pictures, to throw the media off our trail."
"Sounds exhausting."
He nodded. "It wouldn't have been enough. Ivan would have found us within hours. I'm not ready to give you up yet."
He left without a backward glance, closing and locking the door behind him. Somehow, that was more reassuring than if he'd left it unlocked. Neither of us wanted Amber to walk in on me.
The shower worked like any other, but I wondered where the water went after it filtered down the drain. For once, I didn't dwell on the environmental impacts.
Sebastian's scent permeated the small space even before I opened the sandalwood-scented shower gel. My dick stiffened at the thought of him shoving me up against the shower wall and having his way with me. I stifled a groan as I slicked my soapy hands over my cock and balls.
I washed everywhere, even dipping my thumb into the divot of my asshole and rubbing the gel into my skin. I desperately needed to jack off, but not here. As Sebastian hinted, he could hear me, which meant he could probably smell me, too.
With a frustrated groan, I turned the water to its coldest setting while I rinsed. My fingertips were blue and pruney when I finally shut the water off. A fluffy white towel waited for me on the bed beside a pair of sweatpants and a "Paskal Entertainment" t-shirt two sizes too big.
Someone knocked on the door while I was rolling up the pant legs. "Are you hungry?" Sebastian asked.
It had been over twelve hours since our last meal on the space station. My stomach answered for me, growling loud enough Amber probably heard it. "I could eat."
"We're heating up some burgers and fries in the microwave."
At the booth table, I sat opposite Amber, while Sebastian took the middle bench seat.
When the microwave dinged, Amber brought the plate of deflated burgers and sizzling fries to our table.
They weren't as disgusting as they looked, but I wouldn't make them a regular part of my diet if I could help it.
Still, the food hit the spot. I could barely keep my eyes open while Sebastian and the doctor talked. I rested my head on my crossed arms and let their voices carry me away.
"Mr. Grayson. Gunnar." Amber shook me awake. "Go to bed, honey."
"No seatbelts." The thought of hitting turbulence was too much for my sleep-deprived brain.
"I've got him."
Strong arms wrapped around me, picking me up and carrying me in the opposite direction of the bedroom. Sebastian returned me to the comfy leather recliner where I'd first sat and buckled me in. Then, he tipped the chair back and adjusted my headrest.
The chair was far more comfortable than the table had been. I was almost all the way out when his fingers brushed my cheek, and he planted his warm lips against my forehead. I must have been dreaming, because I could have sworn he said, "I've already ordered pizza from LA."