AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"We're taking a limo?"
I nod.
"Fuck, Ethan, that's amazing! And you got everything?"
"Everything except underwear. That went missing somehow."
"Ethan!" She squeals with glee. "It did not."
"No, it didn't." I press my forehead to hers. "It's packed in your duffel. Everything's in there."
"What are we doing in LA?"
"I'll tell you." I drag my lips over her neck. "After we join the mile high club."
She giggles. "Deal."
Violet's eyes go wide as she steps onto the private jet. "No fucking way!" She runs her fingers over the plush leather couch. "This must cost twenty grand. This is ridiculous."
"The perks of working with a big label."
"The perks of being a rock star." She throws herself on the couch and spreads out like a starfish. "Is it too late to give up math and pick up a guitar?"
"No. But you won't be happy if you give up math."
"And I have stupid fingers." She wiggles said fingers. "Really, all they can do is hold a pencil."
I lift her feet so I can slide next to her. "We've both seen them do more than that."
Violet's cheeks flush. She laughs. "That too." She sits up enough to rest her head on my shoulder. "So why are we flying into LAX?"
"Let me check." I put my finger to my chin to mime thinking. "Have we joined the mile high club yet?"
"We haven't taken off yet."
"Then I can't tell you."
"You're a difficult man, Mr. Strong." She plants a kiss on my lips, then she pushes herself up to explore the plane.
Violet looks over every nook and cranny—both plush couches, the half a dozen equally plush seats, the TV, the minibar. She barely notices the pilot and co-pilot enter the plane and announce thirty minutes to take off.
I have to grab her and strap her into a seatbelt for takeoff.
She reaches over the wide aisle to take my hand—Violet's always been nervous during takeoff and landing. I squeeze tightly until the pilot announces that we're at cruising altitude.
Violet undoes her seatbelt, then mine. She slides into my lap, hooking her arm around my neck. Her fingers play with my hair.
She tugs my t-shirt down enough to trace the lines of my tattoo. "Baby, do I have the key to your heart?"
I nod.
Her green eyes go wide. Her voice gets soft. "Really?"
"You always have."
"You never talk about yourself, Ethan. About the things that hurt you. Even back in college, well, when I was in college." She runs her fingertips over my neck. "Tell me about something that hurt you. Something that didn't involve me."
My heartbeat picks up. I don't like talking about myself. Not the real shit. There are too many ugly things.
