Page 27 of Come Fly with Me

Taylor turns to look at them, her face unreadable as she shakes her head. “I think I’m just going to go to bed,” she whispers.

I nod. “Me too.”

We walk inside, both of us hurrying past the bar and straight toward the elevators. When the doors open, we step inside, the two of us the only people in the car.

I reach across her and hit the button for floor fourteen before asking, “Which floor?”

“Same,” she says quietly.

I nod and pull back, standing silently beside her as the elevator starts its climb. Neither of us says a word as an electric charge starts to slowly build, surrounding us and filling the confined space. It feels as though the whole space is thick with tension and desire and unanswered questions about what happens next. What happens when we reach the fourteenth floor?

I know what I want to happen. It’s what I’ve wanted since the second I stepped into that cockpit with her back at LAX. But I know that it’s not up to me now. That despite her reputation, something has changed with Taylor and if anything is going to happen between us, it has to be on her terms.

I feel like I’ve made my feelings clear and that the ball is well and truly in her court now.

When the bell dings and the elevator slows on our floor, I signal for Taylor to walk out first. I follow behind her, both of us walking slowly down the corridor.

“This is me,” she says, stopping in front of a door.

I glance up at the number before lowering my eyes to hers. She stares back at me, eyes wide, bottom lip between her teeth again. I step closer, sliding one hand onto her hip as I reach up with my other hand, cupping her jaw as my thumb pulls her lip out.

I watch her throat move as she swallows, her breathing hitching as I step even closer, our chests almost touching, only the barest sliver of space between us.

“I know you’re afraid,” I whisper, my eyes locked on hers. I brush my thumb across her mouth now, leaving it there as she parts her lips to speak. “You don’t need to be afraid of me,” I add, my fingers curling around her jaw. “I want you, Taylor,” I whisper, my eyes dropping to her mouth. “So. Fucking. Much.”

“Jake,” she breathes out.

I drag my thumb down her mouth, pulling at her bottom lip. “God, I wanna kiss this mouth,” I groan, leaning closer.

I can see the hard pulse of her pounding heart in the vein at the side of her neck, her breathing coming out in ragged breaths now as her chest pumps against mine. She doesn’t move though, not coming any closer despite the want I can see in her eyes.

She’s not quite there yet. Not quite ready to take a risk and give in to what I know she wants, what I can see written all over her face.

And as much as I might want her, as desperate as I feel for her right now, I’m not pushing it. This is her call. It has to be her choice to let go, to lose control and give in to what we both know is happening here.

“Good night, Taylor,” I murmur, tilting my head and pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. I linger against her skin, my mouth curving into a smile as I hear a low moan fall from hers. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Then, I step back, turning and walking away before I have a chance to change my mind or question why I’m walking away from this woman right now.

Nine

Taylor

I’m still riding the high I felt climbing the bridge and seeing the world below, the stunning cotton candy-colored sky as we watched it change colors before our eyes. It was exhilarating and freeing, and even though we were tethered with a group of people, when we were standing at the top, it felt like Jake and I were the only people in the world.

But more than this adrenaline rush, my body is hotwired and on fire. Every single nerve is electrified, and my skin burns where Jake’s lips just connected with my neck. I quickly let myself into the room because if I don’t, I can’t be sure I won’t chase him down.

The door closes, and I fall back against it, my head bouncing off it as I close my eyes and process what this all means. Relationships mean trouble, and meaningless sex leaves me feeling cold and empty, and if I’m being honest, used. I’m done being used and tossed aside for the next girl in line.

When I married Trent, I knew he was a player; it’s how we met. A random hook-up that turned into more, and I guess we both mistook our intense chemistry for something more. We had no business getting married, and he never had any intention of staying faithful. Guess he didn’t realize that when he said I do it meant he had to stop sleeping with other women. All we ever had was chemistry and relationships are unsustainable when built off nothing more.

What the hell am I holding out for now, though?

A broken heart is nothing more than a skinned knee at this point. It doesn’t even bleed tears anymore.

“Fuck it,” I mutter to myself, grabbing my keycard as I head down to the hotel bar because I’m going to need a shot of liquid courage to knock on his door. I’m a little rusty in this department, and if I’m being honest, I actually like him. It was so much easier in the past: a random hook-up with no expectations.

But as soon as I hit the bar, I realize it’s a huge mistake. I’ve avoided group gatherings since I’ve changed my outlook on my life, because people still view you in that same light no matter how hard you work to rid yourself of a shitty reputation.

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