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After a hectic few days in which I didn’t get a chance to see Charlotte, I was more than eager to see her smiling face this morning while picking her up for our early morning flight to Hawaii. And now that we’re safely onboard the plane and survived takeoff, in which I thought Charlotte might break my hand from how hard she was squeezing it, I turn to her to strike up a conversation.
“So how were the past few days?”
She twists to face me, leaning her head against her seat. “Busy. Stressful. It seems no matter how hard I tried to prepare for this vacation, the responsibilities at work just kept piling up. I got as much done as I could before leaving the office yesterday, but I know I’ll be returning to madness when we get back next week.”
“I’m sorry. I know what you mean. I left a small list of things for Jeffrey to get done for our pitch while I’m gone, and normally I can rely on him. But I’m nervous that something is going to happen to mess this all up.”
“Oh, that’s right. The pitch is next week, huh? The account that is the entire reason for this fake relationship to begin with,” she teases.
“Yup. And I feel confident, but I’m also nervous. This account is a big deal for our firm, and after seeking out the opportunity at a shot to pitch, I hope Jeffrey and I don’t make fools of ourselves.”
“Well, just harness that cockiness I know you possess, even if you’re feeling unsure. Anyone in the room will pick up on your nerves if you show them.”
“My cockiness, huh? Remember what I told you, Char. There’s a difference between confidence and cockiness.” I lean in closer to her. “And you know I have the cockiness covered now,” I say, glancing down at her lips and then back up.
“I do, do I?”
“Do I need to remind you? We could always join the mile-high club on this flight,” I say suggestively.
She smirks and then leans in closer to me. “That’s not happening.”
I shrug. “No problem. I’ll just remind you when we get to our room.” She laughs and then blows out a harsh breath. “So are you nervous about this week?”
“I’d be lying if I said no. I know that having you as a buffer will help, but I also know my mother. Did I tell you that she asked me last week when we would be getting married?”
I nearly choke on my saliva. “What? No.”
“Yeah. Now that we’re ‘dating’,” she says, using quotes on her fingers, “she’s putting pressure on the next step. I swear, nothing is good enough for her. If I had grown up in the 1800s, she would have had me married off and birthing my first child before I turned eighteen. It’s like…”
My mind is still focused on the idea of marriage while Charlotte continues to vent about her mom.
Could I see myself marrying Charlotte? Her walking toward me in a white dress, waking up next to her every day, having babies with her, and building a life with her?
Suddenly visions of all of those things pop up in my mind and my heart lurches. I don’t hate it. In fact, the thought makes me really fucking happy.
I already knew that I wanted to make our relationship real and have that discussion while we’re on this trip. And even though marriage is something I don’t want to rush into, I know that it’s something I eventually want—and now I realize I want it with her.
God, I’m in love with Charlotte Montgomery.
The girl who caused so much strife between me and my father is now the person I want with me every second of every day. She makes me feel worthy, useful, masculine, and proud. She gives me purpose and makes me laugh, bringing light to the lackluster life I was leading before.
I had my fun, enjoyed a lack of responsibilities and dedication to one woman for any extended period of time—but now I want to give her all of my time.
And I want her to be mine.
As I listen to her talk more about her mom, hear her struggle with her inner turmoil and how to deal with her mother, my reflexes kick in. Without warning, I cut her off with my lips, thrusting my tongue in her mouth and catching her gasp of surprise before she moans and kisses me right back with just as much ferocity. I grip the back of her head and hold her lips to mine as I silence her frustrations, drown out her doubt, and claim her in front of the people around us.
Kissing her wakes my body up, reminding me that it’s been almost a week since we’ve been intimate since she was on her period. And the anticipation of reconnecting that way is making my dick stand at attention as I move my tongue across hers and drown out all of the noise around us, except for the sounds of pleasure coming from her.
We must be making a scene or a discernible amount of noise because a throat clearing behind us interrupts our moment. When we part, Charlotte’s cheeks are flushed, and I glance back to the woman sitting behind us with a small boy in the seat next to her.
“Sorry,” I mutter before turning to face the front of the plane in my seat as Charlotte giggles beside me.
“Did we just make out in front of a little kid?” she whispers.
“Apparently so. But whatever. One day when he finds a pretty girl and wants to kiss her, he’ll remember this moment and think, ‘if she’s making that much noise, I must be doing it right.’”
Charlotte playfully smacks me. “Damien!”
I lean in closer to her again. “Don’t worry though. That was nothing compared to the noises you’ll be making when I get you alone later.”
A throat clears behind us again, and the woman has wide eyes this time as she glares at me. Charlotte sinks low in her seat, and I reach for her hand, intertwining our fingers, and holding on to her for the rest of the flight as we watch the movie provided on the small screens in the back of the seats on the plane.
Everything is going to work out. I’m going to win this Remedy account. I’m going to tell my father off if he makes one peep about my job or life. And I’m going to admit my feelings to Charlotte.
Let our week in Hawaii commence.
