Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
Wes
After a marathon night spent making my gorgeous wife come in every square inch of real estate in our suite and every surface I could convince her to try, Lottie fell asleep in my arms. Now it’s morning, and I realize that we’ve slept later than we meant to.
I pull the sheet over my body to cover up my morning wood. Light stretches across the bed, catching the golden strands of Lottie’s hair as she stays curled against my chest. One of my arms is wrapped around her waist, her leg tangled with mine. Neither of us is in any hurry to move.
If you’d asked me a month ago what my perfect morning looked like, I wouldn’t have said anything like this.
Now I can’t imagine waking up any other way.
Lottie isn’t just my fake wife anymore, she’s the woman I’m falling in love with.
The realization should scare the hell out of me.
Instead, it feels like the only thing that’s ever made complete sense.
The shrill ring of Lottie’s phone cuts through the quiet room, and she startles awake, her head lifting from my chest. I glance toward the nightstand as she reaches for it. The moment she sees the caller ID, sleep vanishes from her face.
“It’s my mom.”
She sits up in bed, pulling the sheet up to her chest to cover up before pressing the speaker button.
“Lottie.” Her mom’s voice floats through the room. “I hope it’s not too early.”
“Not at all, Mom,” she says. “Is everything okay?”
“Dad is fine, honey.” She pauses. “It’s his insurance. I just received a bill from your Dad’s insurance company, and I think something’s wrong.”
My stomach tightens as I sit up beside Lottie.
“The hospital bills have our balance owing as zero. I think they’ve made a mistake.”
Guilt presses hard against my ribs. This whole arrangement started because of me.
At the time, it felt like a perfect solution.
Now all I can think about is the impossible position I’ve put her in.
She’s forced to lie to the people she loves the most because of a deal I asked her to make, and I hate that.
Most of all, I hate that the woman I’m falling in love with has to carry the weight of my decisions.
“No, Mom.” I watch as Lottie forces a small, reassuring laugh. “Everything’s okay. Remember a few weeks ago when I told you I was calling the insurance company?”
“Yes…”
“I found a loophole in Dad’s policy.”
“A loophole?”
Lottie exhales. “They weren’t applying one of his supplemental benefits properly. I spent the better part of an afternoon on the phone with them and finally got someone to review the claim.”
“Oh, sweetheart…”
“They approved it.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means Dad has more coverage than we thought.” Lottie lets out a shaky breath. “So, you won’t have to worry about making the payments anymore.”
The lie catches in her throat.
“Oh, Lottie.” Her mom’s voice cracks. “Are you sure? I’ve barely slept thinking about how we were going to pay for all of this.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry anymore.”
Her mom sniffles. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
None of this should’ve fallen on Lottie’s shoulders in the first place.
When this fake marriage began, I thought I was asking her to help me solve a public relations disaster.
I never stopped to consider what pretending would cost her.
Now, listening to her reassure her mother with a lie she never wanted to tell, one thing becomes painfully clear.
I’m done letting her carry the consequences of my choices alone.
The flight home is quieter than the one that brought us here. Lottie sits beside me with her legs tucked beneath her, gazing out the window as the snow-capped peaks of Pine Ridge disappear beneath the clouds.
She smiles when she catches me looking at her, but she seems distracted, like she’s carrying a hundred different emotions and hasn’t decided which ones to unpack first.
I know the feeling.
We spent most of yesterday wrapped up in each other in the chalet, stealing long conversations between lingering kisses. There was no urgency. No pretending. No walls. Just us. Every time I held her, I found myself wondering how I’d ever convinced myself this marriage could end after a year.
The answer is simple. It can’t. Not anymore.
I glance over as she absentmindedly twists her wedding band around her finger. I’ve noticed we’ve both developed that habit.
“You okay?”
She turns from the window, meeting my eyes. “Yeah.”
“You sure?”
She nods. “I think I’m just processing.”
I reach across the cockpit between our seats and lace my fingers through hers. “Good weekend?”
A laugh escapes her. “I think that’s an understatement.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
She smiles, but it fades almost as quickly as it appears and I wonder if she’s trying to figure out how to think about the time we shared together without also thinking about the lies. “I don’t want to leave it behind.”
My chest tightens. “You don’t have to.”
Her eyes search mine. “I mean…” She gestures vaguely toward the mountains disappearing behind us. “Everything felt different there.”
“It was.” I squeeze her hand. “I liked that it was just us.” I bring her knuckles to my lips and brush a kiss across them.
“I did too.”
She studies me for a long moment before leaning her head against my shoulder—as much as she can with her headset on. “It’s still just us.”
We have about half an hour before I need to prepare for our descent. Autopilot is on and it’s just the two of us and the endless blue stretching beyond the windshield.
I look at my wife, my eyes drifting downward before making the slow journey back up. She’s wearing a white linen wrap dress that ends mid-thigh, showing off her long, bare legs that have been driving me crazy all weekend. My gaze lingers on her for another heartbeat before settling on her eyes.
“You look fucking hot,” I tell her
A blush creeps into her cheeks. “Thanks,” she says with a shy smile.
I grin, reaching across the space between us to hook a finger beneath her chin, then I lean in and press a slow kiss to her lips.
When I pull back, she’s smiling.
“I could’ve gone with breathtaking,” I murmur. “Or gorgeous.” Her smile widens. “Or the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
She laughs softly. “So why didn’t you?”
I steal one more quick kiss. “Because I figured I’d spend the rest of the flight proving it instead,” I tell her, reaching over to run a hand up her bare leg.
“What do you think you’re doing, Mr. Pilot?” she asks, one eyebrow arching as she looks over at me.
A chuckle escapes me. “Admiring the view.”
Her expression tells me she isn’t buying it for a second.
My thumb traces a slow circle against her knee before my hand drifts a little higher, stopping just before the hem of her dress.
“You wore this knowing exactly what it would do to me.”
She laughs. “This? I just wore it because it’s comfortable.”
“Liar.”
She gasps in mock offense, her attention lingering on my mouth.
“You’ve been distracting me ever since we boarded the plane.”
A smile tugs at her lips. “Good thing you’re on autopilot.”
My eyebrow lifts in a silent challenge. She rolls her bottom lip under her teeth. My little tease. Lottie smiles, uncrossing and then crossing her legs again with deliberate slowness. The motion draws the hem of her dress up just a little higher. She knows exactly what she’s doing.
Before I can call her out on it, the radio crackles to life.
“Deep Cove Seven Two Whiskey, Vancouver Centre.”
Duty takes over. I press the transmit switch, forcing my attention back to the instrument panel. “Go ahead, Vancouver Centre.”
They relay a weather update and a minor routing adjustment for our arrival. I repeat the instructions back, my eyes flicking between the displays and the horizon.
“Cove Seven Two Whiskey, read back correct.”
“Appreciate it. Seven Two Whiskey.”
The frequency falls quiet again. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Lottie trying—and failing—not to laugh.
“I don’t think you heard a single thing they said,” she teases.
I shoot her a warning look that only makes her grin wider. “I heard every word.” I nod toward the navigation display. “We’re descending ten miles earlier to avoid some weather.”
She feigns surprise. “I’m impressed, Mr. Pilot.”
I fight a smile as I adjust my semi-hard cock in my pants.
She slips off her headset and drops it on her chair as she kneels in front of me. My wife is a troublemaker.
Lottie slowly unbuckles my belt and unzips my pants with a fire in her eyes. I lift my hips off the chair and she removes my pants and boxer briefs, tossing them to the side. Her gaze drops to my rock hard cock that springs to life, bouncing against my abs.
I wrap my hand around my shaft and stroke my cock before pointing the head toward her. She leans in with her hands on my thighs teasing the tip of my erection with her tongue.
“Jesus. Fuck.” My abs clench.
My peach licks me from root to tip before wrapping her lips around the tip of my very excited dick, sucking me hard.
“Oh God,” I groan. She replaces my hand with both of hers, stroking my length as she twists.
My legs tremble as she wraps her lips around the head before taking me deeper, my tip hitting the back of her throat every time. I widen my legs to give her more room, and she takes it as an invitation to massage my balls.
“This okay, Wes?”
“Baby, it’s fucking perfect.”
She sucks me deeper and faster, tugging on my balls. I’ve never been this turned on. Being thousands of feet up in the air in our own little corner of the sky makes it even more fun. God, this is dirty.
I thread my fingers in her hair, guiding her up and down my cock until I’m close to shooting, then I pull my dick out of her mouth and pull her onto my lap.
“I need you,” I say, pulling at the knot that closes her wrap dress before pushing it open.
Fuck me.
She’s wearing a see-through lace bra that barely cover her tits and the matching high cut panties in a bubble-gum pink shade. I have to grip the base of my cock to stop myself from shooting at just the sight of her.