Kiara
Present
I let my fingers wander, grazing the soft materials, absolutely stunned by everything that comes into view.
I lazily make my way through the jet’s corridor until my attention is stolen once again by one of the small windows, revealing an uncomfortably vast stretch of dark ocean and, even more uncomfortably, just how freaking high in the air we are.
My stomach rolls, another wave of queasy dizziness traveling through me all the way to my fingertips. I jerk away from the window and force myself to focus on the other extravagances of the interior instead.
I feel his gaze on me.
Turning around, I find him leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest, watching me with a tiny smile tugging at his lips as though my internal turmoil is the most entertaining thing he’s witnessed all day.
“What is it?” he asks calmly through a smirk.
I can’t believe he’s still capable of doing this. Of scorching every part of my insides simply by standing in my proximity with that posture, like he owns every square inch of the air around me.
Is it ever going to stop?
This relentless buzzing nervousness that’s somehow addictive at the same time?
Will I ever look at him without instantly feeling like my knees are about to give out?
Probably not.
And I don’t mind.
“I’ve just never been on a private jet,” I mumble, continuing to inspect every luxurious surface around me.
He tilts his head, watching me like I’m his favorite pet he’s just brought into a new environment, thoroughly enjoying the process of watching me adjust to it.
Then the slightest patch of turbulence ripples through the aircraft.
I grab the nearest thing, instinctively holding my breath and squeezing my eyes shut as I fight the sudden urge to throw up.
When the dreadful moment passes and we appear to still be alive, I crack my eyes open and find him standing in the exact same position, not a single muscle moved, except now he’s visibly trying—and failing—not to laugh.
The sight instantly reminds me of the first time I got into his car years ago, when he fought back a smile after I kissed the ground outside my house.
And I realize his smile hasn’t changed one bit.
Despite that, I shoot him a murderous glare while swallowing down the nausea.
“Are you okay, baby?” he asks through the grin.
“I’m delighted, thanks,” I force out.
I lean against the nearest surface with all the grace I can fake.
“Why don’t you sit down?” he says, walking toward me.
“I like it here.”
“Are you sure? You seem a bit…” He trails off as he reaches for my face, then gently takes hold of my chin. “A bit green.”
Oh, you don’t say.
“Probably just tired,” I mumble.
His vicious smile widens. “Are you scared of flying?”
“What? No.”
“You’ve been avoiding the windows for most of the flight,” he says, clearly amused.
I exhale through my nose, feeling utterly embarrassed.
“I’m not a fan of heights,” I admit quietly, staying exactly where I am.
His hand finds my waist and gently pulls me a little closer.
“Kiara,” he says through the smirk. “Have you never been on a plane?”
“Of course I have,” I scoff, rolling my eyes to hide the lie.
His lips twitch with amusement.
Then he draws me closer and steps in behind me, wrapping his arms around me from the back as he guides me toward one of the seats.
I let him steer me without protest before he drops into it and pulls me down with him, settling me comfortably on his lap, directly beside the window that now offers an even better view of the horrifying amount of ocean beneath us and, as if that weren’t enough, a fucking cloud.
I deliberately keep my eyes away from it and let my head fall back against his shoulder instead, feeling his mouth brush close to my ear.
“Then let’s think about something else,” he says softly, no longer rubbing in the fact that I’m a woman in my mid-twenties who has somehow never been on a damn plane.
“Okay,” I breathe out. “Are we really free now?”
“Yes,” he replies instantly, without a second of hesitation.
“So…” I trail off, desperate to keep the conversation alive if only to stop myself from thinking about everything outside the window. “What are we going to do now?”
“Anything you want.”
Anything you want.
His words echo through me like something pulled from a dream. Yet I can’t think of a single thing I want more than to be standing on solid ground right now.
“We can travel,” he says simply. “What do you want to see?”
Oh God, please let it be somewhere accessible by car.
I gulp.
“Name a country, a city, a mountain, or an island,” he recites calmly. “I’ll take you there.”
“What about your home? Your business? What about your people?”
“Not everything we’ve done is illegal, Kiara. We still have real estate and investments that have nothing to do with Lucien or Vermilion. I’ll let Dorian handle things there while we start over somewhere else,” he explains. “Wherever you want.”
“Okay,” I croak hesitantly, too tense because this damn plane refuses to stay completely still.
“If it’s about money,” he continues. “You don’t have to worry about that. You’ll never have to worry about that.”
“No, it’s not about that.” I shake my head. “It’s just—oh God!”
My nails dig into his thigh as another slight patch of turbulence ripples through the plane.
His hold around me tightens, meant to reassure me, yet I can feel him smiling again, right beside my ear.
“Stop laughing at me,” I grit out.
“I’m not laughing at you. I’d never laugh at you.” His voice is warm with amusement. “I’m just smiling because, for some reason, I find you incredibly endearing when you’re distressed.”
“Oh, that’s great,” I mutter, rolling my eyes.
“When I kidnapped you,” he begins, his hand slipping beneath my top to trace slow circles around my navel, “I couldn’t stop watching you through the cameras.”
“That’s called stalking, by the way.”
“Whatever,” he mumbles before continuing. “It was comforting having you under my roof, watching you move, think, argue, react. I couldn’t stop.”
“Yeah,” I scoff. “Definitely stalking.”
“You enjoyed it too,” he adds, his voice low and satisfied.
“Oh really? I don’t remember that.”
His hand slides beneath my thigh and gently lifts my leg until my foot comes to rest on the small table in front of us. Then he does the same with the other, settling me on his lap with both knees parted and resting against the edge.
“You liked the feeling of me watching you.”
He takes my hand and guides it down my stomach until it disappears beneath the waistband of my underwear.
“Even before I took you,” he says, still holding my wrist until I reach my pussy. “You never once called the police, even though you had to know someone had been inside your apartment.”
“I must say that was a bit stupid,” I admit in a whisper.
“You wanted it to be me, admit it.”
I stay silent and drop my head on his shoulder again, closing my eyes.
“You were fucking yourself in your bathtub, wishing it was me who’s haunting you.”
His presence slowly swallows me whole, setting every nerve alight as I melt against him, acutely aware of the tension building beneath me. He’s getting hard.
I succumb to the tease and let my middle finger rub against my clit, easing myself into the sensation.
“And then you gave me your little show, all bored and unsatisfied in your princess chambers.”
“Are you finally admitting you watched it, you freak?”
A low chuckle rumbles through his chest.
“It fucking destroyed me, Kiara. I couldn’t sleep because of how many times I had my dick in my hands with the image of you in my mind.”
Something between a giggle and a gasp escapes me as I slide my finger into my pussy, my breathing growing uneven.
“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Get yourself off on me.”
He leaves me to it.
My free hand slips beneath my shirt to cup my breast while I chase the steadily rising sensation, my hips shifting against his lap, my breathing dissolving into a string of ragged gasps.
“It’s not enough,” I whisper, unable to stop now and yet still feeling too empty to actually finish.
He doesn’t hesitate. His hands leave my body only long enough to undo his belt between us. There’s something unbelievably attractive about the sound of a belt being flicked open, yet the sound also snaps me back to reality, and a surge of panic slices through me.
“They could come out of there any second,” I warn, glancing at the thin door separating us from the rest of our little gang.
“Believe me, they won’t,” he mutters lazily before guiding me just far enough aside to free himself.
I brace my feet against the table in front of us to steady myself until he catches my hips and settles me back down onto him in one brutal thrust.
A guttural groan tears from my throat before his scarred hand clamps over my mouth to smother it. My own hand disappears beneath my underwear, chasing relief from the overwhelming pressure and dragging me right back to the edge of unraveling.
“This is what you were hoping for every time you felt someone inside your apartment, isn’t it?” he rasps.
“Mhm,” I hum against his palm.
“Because I was this close to giving it to you every single time I was there, Kiara,” he grits out, pulling me flush against him until I can feel every movement reverberating through my body.
Another muffled sound slips through me as anticipation coils tighter and tighter inside me, the pleasure exploding at the base of my spine while my body trembles around him.
His enormous frame goes rigid beneath me, betraying just how close he is to losing control with me.
“You’ll never have to wonder whether I’m watching you or not, because from now on, I’ll always be there. I’m never taking my eyes off you.”
The pressure eases, and he lets his hand fall away from my mouth, giving me back the air I didn’t realize I’d been fighting for. I draw in a sharp breath, trying to steady myself, a fine sheen of sweat gathering at the nape of my neck.
“You’d better,” I breathe out, exhausted and thoroughly satisfied.
He buries his face in the crook of my neck, muffling the low growl rumbling through him, and I can’t get enough of the sound. There’s something impossibly romantic about seeing him this completely undone beneath me, clinging to me as though he might shatter the moment I try to pull away.
A soft click echoes somewhere above us.
My head jerks up just in time to spot the illuminated seatbelt sign, and the moment I do, the entire world starts spinning.
“Oh fuck,” I gasp. “What’s happening?”
He lifts me off his lap and sets me back in my own seat before calmly fixing his clothes, silently laughing at me all over again.
“Could you stop laughing at me?” I snap, gripping the armrests for dear life.
Still smirking, he leans over and reaches for my seatbelt, pulling it across me in one smooth motion.
“I’m laughing because I love you,” he says through the grin before pressing a kiss to my forehead and giving the belt one final sharp tug, tightening it across my lap hard enough to knock the air from my lungs.
I glare at him.
My grip tightens around the armrests as I stubbornly keep my eyes fixed anywhere but the windows. It lasts exactly four seconds before I cave and reach for his hand, focusing on the intricate burns woven across his skin into beautiful patterns.
“If this thing crashes, I’m haunting you,” I state.
“Please, do,” he murmurs softly.