Chapter 30 #2
“That’s it,” he encourages as my breathing fractures. “Let go, Bailey. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”
His thumb presses down, circles faster, and I shatter—pleasure exploding outward in waves that curl my toes inside my boots. My hips buck against his hand, seeking more, seeking everything.
“Sebastian,” I gasp, his name breaking apart as the orgasm thunders through me.
I collapse back in my seat, aftershocks still pulsing through me, as Sebastian withdraws his hand with maddening slowness.
“You,” I pant, struggling to regulate my breathing, “are going to be the death of me. And possibly this plane.”
Sebastian looks pleased with himself as he adjusts my clothing, putting it back in place. “The autopilot had everything under control.”
“That is beside the point,” I mutter, though my indignation lacks conviction given that I’m still boneless from pleasure. “I’m supposed to be a professional.”
“You are,” he says, pressing a kiss to my temple. “A thoroughly professional, exceptionally capable pilot who possesses remarkable multitasking abilities.”
I roll my eyes, unable to suppress my smile. “You’re just proud of yourself for making me lose control.”
“Always.” The way he says it—low and intimate—makes my heart perform wild acrobatics.
I check the instruments, confirming our little deviation into unprofessional territory hasn’t compromised our flight path. Everything remains steady and on course. Unlike my pulse.
“You realize this means war, right?” I say. “I’m getting you back for this.”
Sebastian smiles. “I’m counting on it.”
The rest of the flight passes with electric tension humming between us. Sebastian returns to his tablet, occasionally glancing up to catch my eye with a look that promises more. I focus on flying, trying not to contemplate exactly how I’ll return the favor upon landing.
Alaska appears below us, vast and pristine and wild. A tightness forms in my throat as I recognize the landscape where our story began.
“Almost there,” Sebastian says, and I’m not sure if he means our destination or something else entirely.
I begin our descent, the familiar routine centering me despite the lingering warmth in my veins.
“We’re starting our approach to Alaska,” I announce, shifting back to professional mode. “Buckle up. It could get...bumpy.”
Sebastian withdraws his hand from my thigh, but not before giving it one last squeeze. “I believe you enjoy tormenting me.”
“Consider it payback for all your mysterious hints about why we’re returning to Alaska,” I reply, focusing on the controls as we begin our descent through a bank of clouds. “Besides, now you have something to anticipate on the return trip.”
“I always have something to look forward to with you,” he says. “That’s why I love you so much.”
I’m not blushing. Pilots don’t blush. It’s simply warm in the cockpit.
Alaska spreads below us, a patchwork of white and dark green. Home of wolves, snowstorms, and one sturdy cabin where I first realized I might be falling for the most infuriating man I’d ever met.
“So,” I say as we begin our descent toward the all-too-familiar landing strip, “funny how this abandoned airport suddenly got reopened and certified for commercial use right around the time you decided we needed to make a trip here.”
Sebastian glances out the window with practiced nonchalance. “Quite the fortunate coincidence.”
“Mmm, yes. Very fortunate that I could file a flight plan to an airport that wasn’t even on the maps six months ago.
” I toggle a switch, adjusting our descent rate.
“And look at that—fresh runway markings, proper lighting, even a ground crew waiting. All for your mysterious ‘business meeting’ in the middle of Nowhere, Alaska.”
“Perhaps the local government recognized the economic opportunity.”
I give him my best side-eye. “The only thing that moves that fast is Sebastian Lockhart when he really wants something.”
His lips twitch. “I may have made a few calls.”
“A few calls? You practically built a whole new airport!”
“I wouldn’t say I built it. More like...encouraged its expeditious rehabilitation.”
“For a business meeting,” I say, making air quotes with one hand while keeping the other on the controls. “What kind of business requires reopening an entire airport in the middle of Alaska?”
“Important business.” His eyes dance with barely contained mischief.
I snort and lower the plane's nose.
“Aaaaand touchdown!” I ease the landing gear onto the tarmac with barely a bump. “See that? Smooth as expensive silk sheets. An improvement over our last landing in Alaska, which, if you’ll recall, involved more fiery destruction and mortal peril.”
Sebastian unbuckles his seatbelt, that amused half-smile playing on his lips. “I seem to remember you claiming that crash landing was ‘totally under control.’”
“It was. The plan just included dramatic near-death experiences and character development through shared trauma.” I flip the final switches, powering down the engines.
“Besides, would you rather I had landed perfectly, and we’d never gotten stuck in that cabin?
Never built that pathetic Christmas tree? Never fought off wolves together?”
His hand covers mine. “Not for anything in the world.”
My heart does that stupid flip it always does when he turns sincere on me. “Yeah, well. Just think—if we hadn’t crashed here a year ago, your mother would never have had the pleasure of hearing me explain the aerodynamics of sex in zero gravity to your father’s entire board of directors.”
Sebastian chokes on a laugh. “I thought we agreed never to mention that dinner again.”
After completing the shutdown checklist, I retrieve my jacket from the back of my seat. “So, mysterious business meeting at the exact tiny airport where we had our first near-death experience. Totally normal. Nothing suspicious whatsoever.”
“Your skepticism wounds me.” He guides me down the steps onto the snowy tarmac.
“Your secretiveness wounds my natural curiosity. And you know how I get when I’m curious. Remember the governor’s dinner? When I asked his wife about—”
“Yes, I remember. Which is why I’ve arranged a slight distraction.”
Before I can protest, he’s pulling a silk scarf from his pocket.
“Oh no. Absolutely not. I’m not letting you blindfold me in Alaska. That’s how horror movies start.”
“It’s not a blindfold,” he corrects. “It’s a vision obstruction device.”
“That’s literally the definition of a blindfold.”
But he’s already stepping behind me, his warm breath tickling my ear. “Trust me.”
“Last time I trusted you in Alaska, I ended up with a fractured ankle and hypothermia.”
“And yet,” he says, tying the silk over my eyes with gentle fingers, “you’ve never been happier.”
I can’t argue with that, which is annoying. “Fine. But if wolves are involved in this surprise, I’m filing for divorce.”
“We’re not married,” he points out, leading me forward.
“Details, details.”
I hear a car door open, feel Sebastian’s hand steadying me as I slide into what must be one of his ridiculously expensive hired cars. The leather seats smell new, and the heating is already running at the perfect temperature. The man thinks of everything.
“How long is this blindfold staying on?” I ask as the car moves. “Because I could nap. I love napping in cars. It’s like being a toddler again, except with more existential dread and loans.”
Sebastian’s thumb traces circles on my hand. “Not too long.”
“That’s what kidnappers say.” But I settle against his shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent.
I try to map our route in my head, but Alaska all sounds the same when you’re blindfolded—snow crunching under tires, wind whistling past windows, Sebastian murmuring directions to the driver.
Finally, the car stops. The door opens, and cold air rushes in.
“If I remove this blindfold and see a surprise birthday party, I’m getting back on the plane,” I warn as Sebastian helps me out.
“It’s not your birthday for another three months,” he reminds me, his hands steady on my shoulders. “Careful, the snow’s deep here.”
I hear the car drive away, leaving us in silence so complete it makes my ears ring. The cold bites at my cheeks, and snow crunches beneath my boots as Sebastian guides me forward.
“Why is the car leaving?”
“Almost there,” he murmurs, ignoring my question.
The wind whispers through what must be trees. A familiar sound, like something from a dream—or a memory.
“Okay,” Sebastian says, his voice tight. “You can look now.”