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No one has told me they love me in so long. I get cards for my birthday and Christmas from grandfather on my mom’s side. When my grandma died, he moved to Alaska. At first, it was just to be alone and come to terms with losing his daughter and his wife a year apart, but he made a life there, and I’ve only seen him one time when he came back to Alabama to sell their house.
Tears well in my eyes.
"It's okay if you don’t feel the same way…yet," he says, his voice low and gentle. "I'm here for you, whether it’s today or months from now." He leans forward and captures my lips in a passionate kiss. I can feel all of my fears melting away as I surrender to his embrace.
His hands travel up and down my body, exploring and caressing as he whispers sweet sensual words in my ear. Finally, I pull away, breathless and aroused. “Make love to me,” I mumble.
Maybe it’s the altitude or the hum of the plane, but my heart feels like it may combust at any moment. The way this man loves me is beyond my wildest dreams. He strokes every inch of my body with his hands and peppers my skin with spine tingling, toe curling kisses before he hovers over me and his hair falls forward.
“I love running my fingers through your hair. I love your dimples.” I can see in his eyes that he wants me to say those words first, so I feel in control. “But it was your laugh that struck my heart like lightning.”
There’s some light fondling and warming me up, even though I could light the Olympic flame without a torch right now. Hagan’s eyes never move from mine. When I need to close them because I’m so close, he commands, “Eyes on me. I want to see every emotion in your eyes when you come.”
Tiny explosions go off inside me. “That’s it. God, I love that I can make you come just by talking.”
“It’s…it’s perfect. I love seeing your eyes too.” I wrap my legs around his back, hoping he’ll like it.
He holds himself with one arm and the caresses my knee to my hip as he inserts himself into my wet, hot center. He’s making love to me. This angle is deeper, and I feel excitement building deepest vault of my core. My nails dig as I tug him closer, but he’s anchored in place.
“We’re almost there, babe. Damn, you’re beautiful all the time but when you’re flushed… damn, I’m a lucky guy.”
Our eyes widen and then he pinches them closed but strains to open them back up.
I rasp, “I’m the lucky one. I.. I..” He moves faster and my words become a jumbled mess. They mimic my emotions, my muscles.
We lay in each other’s arms. My smile mirrors his—wide and sated.
When we dress and return to the main cabin, Hagan pulls out a notebook, flips to a page and hands it to me. I peruse the list and cover my mouth on some of them. “You made a list.”
“I did, but this isn’t about checking off boxes, it’s about enjoying each other in every situation.” Then, he leans over, pencil in hand, and marks a line through ‘Airplane.’”
I love this man. Now I need to tell him, but the flight attendant comes over the intercom and says, “Please fasten your seatbelts. We’ll be touching down in twenty minutes.”
ChapterThirty-Two
Hagan
We descendthe stairs to a waiting black SUV when our driver peeks around the vehicle. “Hagan.” Willy greets us with hugs.
“Mr. Willy, it’s good to see you.”
He smacks my back twice, glances at Adalee and says, “Keeping out of trouble?”
Adalee blushes as I take the overnight bag from her. “Yep. She’s making sure of it. This is my girlfriend, Adalee.”
Willy puts his arm around her, “You tell me if he doesn’t treat ya right. I know all his secrets.”
“I don’t have any secrets. You’re thinking about Archer and probably Harper.”
She clams up as he opens the hatch and I pack our bags. We slide into the back seat, holding hands. Her palms are sweaty and she’s quieter than usual. I pump her hand once and she glances away. “What’s wrong?”
She shrugs. “I guess I didn’t realize you’re so rich. That wasn’t the team plane—it’s too small. You’re so normal.” Then she stretches her neck to my ear. “And you have a driver. Who has a driver other than billionaires?”
Kissing the smooth skin on the back of her hand, I say, “My dad’s a billionaire, not me.” She offers me a sheepish grin.
As we ride to the northern suburbs of Chicago, she looks out the window, taking in the sights. I love her innocence. She traveled for gymnastics, but it was smaller SEC cities like Columbus and Baton Rouge, not major U.S. cities.
When we come to a stop in front of my family home, Willy opens the door for Adalee. He pats her on the back. “Have a good time. I’ve been with them twenty years. They’re good people.” Adalee gives him a polite smile.
