Sweet Possession
Page 17
“Sit your ass down,” Juls growls, reaching out for her sister and yanking her into the row. Brooke yelps as she tumbles over Ian, claiming her seat next to Juls.
I clamp my eyes shut, preparing myself for what could quite possibly ground this airplane. I don’t need to look at Reese to know that he is fuming right now. I can sense it in the air.
“Dylan, what the fuck is she talking about?”
Maybe if I jump out the emergency exit, he won’t follow me. That might be my best option here. Or I could punch myself in the face and pray for unconsciousness.
“Dylan, answer me.”
His voice is so commanding, my body submits without a fight. I’m immediately turned toward him and grabbing both his hands, pulling them into my lap. “He was at the club we went to last night. We didn’t know he was there until he bought me a drink and when that happened, I threw it in his face. He ran his mouth a little and then we left. That’s all that happened, I swear.”
His chest rises several times, heaving with fury. “He saw you in that dress.” He pulls his hands out of mine and settles back into his seat. He’s rigid, every muscle flexed as he struggles to keep himself seated. I know he wants to run to the back of the plane. I know he wants to beat the shit out of Bryce. And I know, by the way he isn’t touching me, that I’m in deep shit for keeping this information from him.
Goddamn that dress. It’s really screwing me left and right.
13
The two-and-a-half-hour plane ride home was the longest of my life. I’m not sure why I complained about the one to New Orleans. I would much rather listen to Joey and Brooke banter endlessly as opposed to complete silence from my fiancé, the man who is never quiet with me. Juls kept giving me sympathetic looks over the seat, while Brooke kept mouthing ‘I’m sorry’ throughout the eerily quiet flight. But even though he was pissed, even though he was angrier than he’s ever been with me, he was still my Reese.
He got me a ginger ale from the flight attendant without me asking for it. He carried my luggage with his as we walked from the terminal to his Range Rover. And he opened every door for me. I knew he wasn’t purposely trying to make me feel even worse about keeping information from him, but that’s definitely what ended up happening.
I hear the TV turn on in the living room as I plop myself down on the edge of his bed. I feel drained, mentally and emotionally. We’ve been home for nineteen minutes, not that I’m counting, and he still hasn’t said one word to me.
I hate this.
Reese’s words mean more to me than a lot of things. It was what I missed the most when we were apart for eighty-five days, and I could give him space right now and let him talk to me when he’s ready, but I don’t want space from Reese. I never will. If he doesn’t want to talk to me in the traditional sense, maybe I can coax a few written words from him. I grab my phone out of the suitcase I haven’t bothered unpacking yet and sit back down on the bed, folding my legs underneath me.
Me: Do you know the exact moment I knew I loved you?
I press send and hear the alert on his phone go off in the distance. I can’t see if he’s reading it and typing a response, reading it and deciding I don’t deserve a response, or ignoring me completely. I go with option two. I’m not sure I deserve much of anything right now.
Me: It was on your birthday. Do you remember what we did?
I’m typing the answer for him when my phone beeps.
Reese: How could I forget? I never thought I’d get you in my bed.
I blink and send the tears down my cheeks, sniffing loudly. Loud enough to possibly alert him of my crying. But it’s hard not to cry when he’s given me his words. I’ve only been deprived of them for a little over three hours, but it felt like longer. Much longer. As I type my response, movement in the doorway catches my attention.
I’m in his arms before I can speak, before I can tell him I’m sorry, before I can wipe the tears from my face. I’m so drawn to him that even if I wanted to remain on the bed, there’s not a chance in Hell I could. Not when I’ve fucked up and I need him to feel how sorry I am. My body trembles as he lifts me off the ground and holds me against him. He moans into my hair, and I cling to him like I’m desperate. Like I’ve been deprived for years of his contact. Like it could be taken away from me at any minute. And that’s exactly how he holds me.
It kills me.
I cry harder, grip him tighter, bury my face so far into his neck it becomes borderline painful. I don’t register that he’s carried me throughout his condo until he crouches down and sits on the couch with me in his arms. I scoot closer until I’m practically in his skin. Until it’s hard to determine where he ends and I begin. He keeps one arm on my legs while the other stays wrapped around my upper body.
I brush my lips against his neck, fisting his shirt in my hands. “I’m so sorry, Reese. Please talk to me. Yell, scream, I don’t care. Just give me something. I can’t stand not hearing your voice.”
His breath warms the side of my face as he tilts his head down. “I wanted you on that trip with me because I can’t stand being away from you. I’m selfish when it comes to you, Dylan. I always will be. I knew there was a possibility you would have to see Bryce. I knew he made you uncomfortable, but I took that risk and asked you to come with me anyway.” He shifts me in his lap so we’re face to face. “And then when I saw how you reacted to him on the plane, it killed me. I put you there. I made you feel that way. He saw you in that dress because of me. He stared at you, thinking the same thing I thought when I saw you in it. Because. Of. Me. I didn’t put you first, and I should have. I don’t deserve to know when you fell in love with me. I don’t deserve to hear your voice.”
My heart thunders in my chest as I absorb his words, words I wasn’t expecting to hear. I had prepared myself for a Reese-style flip-out, but not this. How can this man think I wouldn’t follow him anywhere? That any of this is his fault?
“No.” I grab his face with my hands, brushing along the stubble on his jaw. “I wanted to be with you just as much as you wanted me there. Even if you wouldn’t have asked me to go, I would’ve snuck in your suitcase or booked a flight without you knowing. I can’t stand to be away from you either, so don’t you dare act like this addiction is one-sided. I’m just as obsessed and selfish as you are.”
Did I mention how much I hate to lose at anything? The competitive streak in me is fully engaged right now and if Reese thinks he’s got me beat on this, he’s dead wrong. In a battle of who loves who more, I’m taking the prize on this one.
I turn my body completely, straddling his lap and dropping my hands to his shoulders. “Now you listen to me, Carroll. I’m the one who should be feeling like shit here. Me. Not you. I’m the one who’s constantly challenging you with outfits and my incessant need to push your buttons. And I’ll always be like that. You’re marrying someone who will most likely drive you crazy for the rest of your life. Why?”
Why? Shit. Why the hell did I ask that? Good job, Dylan. Let’s make the man you love question the biggest decision of his life.
He opens his mouth to speak but I quickly slap my hand over it. “Ignore that. We’re getting off topic.” I feel his laugh against my hand before dropping it to my lap, allowing the slightest smile to touch my lips. “I should’ve told you I saw Bryce at the club last night. I didn’t because I was afraid of what you would do to him. And I also didn’t want anything to mess up that account.”
I clamp my eyes shut, preparing myself for what could quite possibly ground this airplane. I don’t need to look at Reese to know that he is fuming right now. I can sense it in the air.
“Dylan, what the fuck is she talking about?”
Maybe if I jump out the emergency exit, he won’t follow me. That might be my best option here. Or I could punch myself in the face and pray for unconsciousness.
“Dylan, answer me.”
His voice is so commanding, my body submits without a fight. I’m immediately turned toward him and grabbing both his hands, pulling them into my lap. “He was at the club we went to last night. We didn’t know he was there until he bought me a drink and when that happened, I threw it in his face. He ran his mouth a little and then we left. That’s all that happened, I swear.”
His chest rises several times, heaving with fury. “He saw you in that dress.” He pulls his hands out of mine and settles back into his seat. He’s rigid, every muscle flexed as he struggles to keep himself seated. I know he wants to run to the back of the plane. I know he wants to beat the shit out of Bryce. And I know, by the way he isn’t touching me, that I’m in deep shit for keeping this information from him.
Goddamn that dress. It’s really screwing me left and right.
13
The two-and-a-half-hour plane ride home was the longest of my life. I’m not sure why I complained about the one to New Orleans. I would much rather listen to Joey and Brooke banter endlessly as opposed to complete silence from my fiancé, the man who is never quiet with me. Juls kept giving me sympathetic looks over the seat, while Brooke kept mouthing ‘I’m sorry’ throughout the eerily quiet flight. But even though he was pissed, even though he was angrier than he’s ever been with me, he was still my Reese.
He got me a ginger ale from the flight attendant without me asking for it. He carried my luggage with his as we walked from the terminal to his Range Rover. And he opened every door for me. I knew he wasn’t purposely trying to make me feel even worse about keeping information from him, but that’s definitely what ended up happening.
I hear the TV turn on in the living room as I plop myself down on the edge of his bed. I feel drained, mentally and emotionally. We’ve been home for nineteen minutes, not that I’m counting, and he still hasn’t said one word to me.
I hate this.
Reese’s words mean more to me than a lot of things. It was what I missed the most when we were apart for eighty-five days, and I could give him space right now and let him talk to me when he’s ready, but I don’t want space from Reese. I never will. If he doesn’t want to talk to me in the traditional sense, maybe I can coax a few written words from him. I grab my phone out of the suitcase I haven’t bothered unpacking yet and sit back down on the bed, folding my legs underneath me.
Me: Do you know the exact moment I knew I loved you?
I press send and hear the alert on his phone go off in the distance. I can’t see if he’s reading it and typing a response, reading it and deciding I don’t deserve a response, or ignoring me completely. I go with option two. I’m not sure I deserve much of anything right now.
Me: It was on your birthday. Do you remember what we did?
I’m typing the answer for him when my phone beeps.
Reese: How could I forget? I never thought I’d get you in my bed.
I blink and send the tears down my cheeks, sniffing loudly. Loud enough to possibly alert him of my crying. But it’s hard not to cry when he’s given me his words. I’ve only been deprived of them for a little over three hours, but it felt like longer. Much longer. As I type my response, movement in the doorway catches my attention.
I’m in his arms before I can speak, before I can tell him I’m sorry, before I can wipe the tears from my face. I’m so drawn to him that even if I wanted to remain on the bed, there’s not a chance in Hell I could. Not when I’ve fucked up and I need him to feel how sorry I am. My body trembles as he lifts me off the ground and holds me against him. He moans into my hair, and I cling to him like I’m desperate. Like I’ve been deprived for years of his contact. Like it could be taken away from me at any minute. And that’s exactly how he holds me.
It kills me.
I cry harder, grip him tighter, bury my face so far into his neck it becomes borderline painful. I don’t register that he’s carried me throughout his condo until he crouches down and sits on the couch with me in his arms. I scoot closer until I’m practically in his skin. Until it’s hard to determine where he ends and I begin. He keeps one arm on my legs while the other stays wrapped around my upper body.
I brush my lips against his neck, fisting his shirt in my hands. “I’m so sorry, Reese. Please talk to me. Yell, scream, I don’t care. Just give me something. I can’t stand not hearing your voice.”
His breath warms the side of my face as he tilts his head down. “I wanted you on that trip with me because I can’t stand being away from you. I’m selfish when it comes to you, Dylan. I always will be. I knew there was a possibility you would have to see Bryce. I knew he made you uncomfortable, but I took that risk and asked you to come with me anyway.” He shifts me in his lap so we’re face to face. “And then when I saw how you reacted to him on the plane, it killed me. I put you there. I made you feel that way. He saw you in that dress because of me. He stared at you, thinking the same thing I thought when I saw you in it. Because. Of. Me. I didn’t put you first, and I should have. I don’t deserve to know when you fell in love with me. I don’t deserve to hear your voice.”
My heart thunders in my chest as I absorb his words, words I wasn’t expecting to hear. I had prepared myself for a Reese-style flip-out, but not this. How can this man think I wouldn’t follow him anywhere? That any of this is his fault?
“No.” I grab his face with my hands, brushing along the stubble on his jaw. “I wanted to be with you just as much as you wanted me there. Even if you wouldn’t have asked me to go, I would’ve snuck in your suitcase or booked a flight without you knowing. I can’t stand to be away from you either, so don’t you dare act like this addiction is one-sided. I’m just as obsessed and selfish as you are.”
Did I mention how much I hate to lose at anything? The competitive streak in me is fully engaged right now and if Reese thinks he’s got me beat on this, he’s dead wrong. In a battle of who loves who more, I’m taking the prize on this one.
I turn my body completely, straddling his lap and dropping my hands to his shoulders. “Now you listen to me, Carroll. I’m the one who should be feeling like shit here. Me. Not you. I’m the one who’s constantly challenging you with outfits and my incessant need to push your buttons. And I’ll always be like that. You’re marrying someone who will most likely drive you crazy for the rest of your life. Why?”
Why? Shit. Why the hell did I ask that? Good job, Dylan. Let’s make the man you love question the biggest decision of his life.
He opens his mouth to speak but I quickly slap my hand over it. “Ignore that. We’re getting off topic.” I feel his laugh against my hand before dropping it to my lap, allowing the slightest smile to touch my lips. “I should’ve told you I saw Bryce at the club last night. I didn’t because I was afraid of what you would do to him. And I also didn’t want anything to mess up that account.”
