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Looking toward him, I shrugged. “My boyfriend might beat you up.”
He snickered. “Your boyfriend does deserve to have his ass handed to him for pushing you away, and for yelling at you in the rain. It’s only romantic if the kiss comes afterward, right?”
He was trying to joke, but I could tell he didn’t find it funny.
“I’m sorry, I was just upset about—”
“I know,” I finished for him. “At first I was confused and upset, then I heard, and the first thing I wanted to know was if you were okay…well, that’s a lie. I wanted to know if Toby was okay, though I knew he wouldn’t be. But I was worried about you, too.”
He laughed, taking my hand, holding it in his and kissing the back of it. “I’ll be fine. Toby, he’s in pain. Will be for the rest of his life. I just need to remember there will be more Mollys, and to try harder to help them in the future.”
“In the future, will you tell me more?” I asked softly. “I know I can’t understand everything, but I would hate if you felt the need to give me a censored version of what your day is really like. You’ve never talked about your work in detail to me before.”
“I’ll try, but the reason I don't say much is because when I’m with you, I like that I forget about everything else.”
“Then do you have time to run away with me?” It sounded so cheesy saying it like that. From the look on his face, I could see he agreed.
“Run away with you?”
“That came out wrong. Actually, no. It came out right. My father had a heart attack a few weeks ago and didn’t tell me. So I want to go home, and was kind of hoping you would go with me…if you want.”
“When did you find out? About your father, I mean.”
“The same day Molly passed. A lot of things happened. If you don’t want to go, it’s fine. I just thought I would offer, but you have work—”
“I’ll go,” he said, squeezing my hand. “Let’s run away to Cypress.”
Chapter Twenty
Cypress, Alaska Welcomes You
Eli
I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I was sure no one else could, either. She held on to the arm of the chair like a cat held on to a shower curtain, her eyes closed shut. The plane shook again and she bit her bottom lip, taking deep breaths.
“You don’t fly home often?”
“I drive.”
“You drive from New York to Alaska?” She had to be kidding me.
She nodded. “It’s not that bad. It takes about three, almost four days, and I stop to take pictures of scenery and whatnot.” The plane shook again, and she looked like she was going to cry.
I need to calm her down, I thought, placing my hand over hers. Only then did she open her eyes for the first time since we had taken off. She hadn’t been that bad on the first plane—the ride was so smooth she went to sleep—but since this was a much smaller one, she could now feel every bump through the clouds. “Why is your acrophobia this bad?” Talking often helped.
“When I was eight, my father and brother went hiking up the mountain trail. I was angry they'd left me behind, and even more upset that they thought I couldn’t do it. So I packed my bag with Skittles—the purple kind, two water bottles, my flashlight, tissues, and a compass. I figured I was only about an hour behind them, and left while my mother was finishing up some work. I felt so proud of myself as I walked through the woods alone. I wasn’t scared of anything in the day. I was halfway up the trail when the sun went down, and then I started to panic because I couldn’t find my dad, and wandered off the trail. Long story short, I was lost up there for seven hours, staring down at all of Cypress, petrified I would slip off and no one would ever find me. So, heights make me think I’m on top of the mountain again.”
“So let’s think of some other place else to be in your head.” Leaning over to her, I brushed her hair back and whispered into her ear, “You aren’t on top of a mountain. You're with me, in bed—”
“Naked?” Her eyebrow rose.
“Not yet,” I said softly. “I slowly unbutton your shirt, kissing from your neck down between your breasts. At my touch your nipples are hard, and when I take them between my teeth, you moan so loudly our neighbors are jealous. You clench your legs closed and I don’t know why, baby, because you want me to touch you there…kiss you there…lick every inch of you. Don’t you?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“I can hear you now. You’re screaming my name, ‘Eli…Eli,’ and God almighty, Guinevere, you taste so good I don’t ever want to stop. I could spend hours between your legs, just teasing you…tasting all of you. I love how wet you are for me, baby, how your body trembles at my fingertips. You think I control you? With every moan, I am at your mercy. You would not believe the things I want to do to you, your body. It makes me so hard it pains me. Please, let me have you. Let me fuck you 'til you can’t see straight any more, Guinevere.”
She gasped. “Please.”
