A Sip of You (The Epicurean Series) (2 page)

“Thank you, Anthony,” William said as Anthony finished with my bags. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Yes, sir.” He disappeared through the cabin door.

“Is he coming with us?”

“He’ll travel on the other plane. Was the drive here alright?” William asked as he removed his hand from my back. I missed his warmth immediately.

I wanted to ask about the other plane. I hadn’t realized this trip would be more than just the two of us, but I left that for the moment. “The drive was fine.” I smiled at him and waited for him to offer to show me around, but he wasn’t looking at me. In fact, he looked distracted. He seemed alternately fascinated by the floor and then by the stock report. I cleared my throat. “What’s through the door?”

“Hmm?” He blinked at me, seeming to remember I was there. “The bedroom and a bathroom. Take a look. I need to speak with the pilot.”

Without another word, he turned and headed to the cockpit.
He’s definitely distracted
, I thought as I made my way back to the bedroom. I opened the door and almost laughed. I couldn’t believe this plane. It was like something out of a movie. The bedroom boasted the same color scheme and opulent finishes as the rest of the interior, and I had to wonder if there were decorators for private jets. Probably.

Inside the bedroom, the requisite bed was more than large enough for two. The space was small and spartan yet richly appointed, as was William’s style. Everything looked
very expensive
. Across from the bed was the bathroom. I peeked inside and wasn’t surprised to see it was modern in tone like William’s penthouse.

This was majorly impressive. Was I completely lame if my instinct was to snap a couple of pictures and text them to Beckett? He’d be so jealous, but he was the perfect person to share this with. I’d told Beckett I didn’t want to get too wrapped up in the whole billionaire thing, and he had promised to keep me grounded.

I sent a quick text and then took one last awe-filled look around. I’d always flown cramped and uncomfortable in coach, even on overseas trips with Jace for surfing events. Once we’d been bumped off a flight from San Francisco to Sydney and the airline had moved us up to business class on the next flight. We thought we were living large when we reclined our seats all the way and took advantage of the open bar. But I never in a million years imagined taking a shower or sleeping in a bed on a plane. I stepped back into the bedroom and ran my hand over the luxurious duvet. I wondered if I would be joining the Mile High Club on this trip. I’d never done that. A curl of desire spiraled through me. I sincerely hoped so.

When I returned to the main cabin, William introduced me to the captain and co-pilot, who greeted me warmly and told us we were ready to depart. When they retreated, William took me in his arms again. “Every time I see you, you’re more beautiful. Have I told you I don’t deserve you?”

“Yes.” I grinned. “But you can tell me again.”

“I don’t deserve you. And you are
very
beautiful. I intend to tell you that every day. Plan on holding to me to that.”

Then he kissed me deeply. As always, the feel of his body pressed to mine made me heady with desire, but I was looking for something else too. I was thrilled that he was thinking about us together every day, but what I really wanted right now was to recapture the connection we’d shared last night. I wanted us to talk for hours again, and I wanted him to open up to me even more. I wanted to know him in every way and I wanted him to know all of me too. I
loved
him and was just waiting for the perfect moment to tell him.

I kissed him back eagerly, but he pulled away. Disappointment rocked through me as, again, I got the feeling his mind was somewhere else.

“Is everything all right?” I asked.

“Now that you’re here, everything is fine. I just want to make sure you feel welcome,” he said, lifting a highball glass of amber liquid from the table. He’d already drank some of it; I could taste the bourbon on his tongue.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked. “The bar is fully stocked.”

“What, no flight attendant?” I joked. “What kind of plane is this?”

“Well, I like my privacy,” he said with a smile that faded far too quickly, “but I’ll try to make sure the accommodations are more to your liking next time. In the meantime, I guess I’ll have to wait on you, hand and foot.” His words sounded so seductive, and my throat went dry, but I kept things light between us for the moment.

“You’ll do, I suppose.” I smiled, but then saw he wasn’t even really looking at me. Something about William was definitely off. I couldn’t tell if it was because he was nervous about what he’d find on the trip—probably, but he hadn’t said anything more about his brother. Or maybe he just didn’t like flying, or maybe it was something else entirely. It was still so hard for me to read him.

“In all seriousness,” I said when he placed his hand on the small of my back and guided me to the seats before the table. “This is amazing. I never even imagined planes like this existed, and you have two.”

“I have five, actually. But only two are making this trip.”

Before I could respond to that revelation, William reached over and buckled me in. His arm grazed my breast as he did so, and my nipples tightened in anticipation. He glanced up at me, his eyes more grey than blue. Even distracted, he didn’t miss anything and could tell when I had even the smallest response to his touch.

“Some of my staff and my security team are flying out on the other plane. I don’t like traveling with an entourage, but it’s usually necessary, so I deal with it.” He sighed as he took another sip of the bourbon. “Do you want a drink?” he asked again. Had he forgotten he’d already asked me that?

“No, I’m fine,” I said.

He buckled himself in and pressed a button to signal the cockpit. “We’re ready to go.”

“We’ve been cleared for departure, Mr. Lambourne,” came the reply. A moment later the jet began to taxi.

I hadn’t realized how quickly a smaller plane would move. It seemed to whip down the runway. William reached over and tightly grasped my hand in his. I glanced at him and noted the tight set of his jaw and the strained look on his face.

“Are you sure everything is okay?” I asked as the engines roared even louder.

He nodded, tight-lipped. The plane leapt into the air and for a moment we seemed to hang and glide, and then we made our way up and up. Still, William gripped my hand in an almost painful clench.

“Positive?” I asked. He didn’t respond, and I sighed. He could be incredibly frustrating sometimes—a lot of times. I knew letting me in and telling me what was going on—in his mind, in his heart, in his life—was never going to be easy for him. But he knew how important honesty was to me and to our relationship. “You know I’m here for you, right?” I said. “If you want to talk about anything...”

He glanced at me, then released my hand and reached for his drink.

So I guessed that was a no. Hopefully at some point I would find out more about the phone call that brought us here and about Wyatt’s mysterious reappearance. Wyatt was William’s older brother, or he had been until he and William’s parents were presumably killed in a plane crash when William was only eleven. Not long after we first met, I’d done a little Googling of my own and read about the plane crash. I knew what lengths William went to in his attempt to figure out what happened to his family. The plane wreckage had never been found, but apparently that wasn’t unusual for a plane crash in Alaska. So I knew some, but I wanted the details and to know what William knew.

I had so many questions and William had promised me answers, but it didn’t appear those answers would come now. He was too wound up, too tense. A few minutes later, there was a ping and William rose. I watched him as he made his way carefully to the bar near the big flat-screen and freshened his drink. The flight felt pretty smooth to me, so his careful walk seemed a little overdone. Or maybe that bourbon hadn’t been his first.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” he asked. “I had the galley stocked before we left. The lobster club sandwich is very good and so are the spring rolls. Or how about sparkling water? I’ve got fresh limes.” He seemed to be rambling a bit now. I cut him off.

“I’m not hungry right now. Thanks.”

I watched as he reached in his pocket, popped a pill in his mouth, and then took a deep swallow of his drink.

I was concerned now, but I tried not to let on how much. “That must be your secret medicine,” I said, my tone teasing. “Now I know what gives you all that stamina and vitality.”

He laughed, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, which were more guarded than ever. “Come here,” he said, taking a seat on the couch across from me. I unbuckled my seat belt and made my way to him. William took my hand and pulled me down beside him. It was soft and comfortable, and I curled my legs under me. William’s hand continued to stroke mine.

“So you’re not Superman, after all,” I said quietly.

“Far from it. That was Xanax. I hate flying, but it’s necessary. And then, so is the Xanax.”

I nodded, squeezing the fingers that still stroked my hand gently. Of course he hated flying, and I couldn’t believe I just realized it. His whole family died in a plane crash. His mother and father and older brother were gone in an instant. It was amazing that he ever set foot on a plane.
He
was amazing.

“I know this has to be unbearable for you,” I whispered.
Please let him open up to me now,
I thought.
William, let me in
.

“The Xanax makes it bearable, but you, Catherine, you help more than you could possibly know.”

“I want to know,” I said. “Maybe talking to me would help.”

His eyes grew tender, and he pulled me into his lap. I could feel the tension in his tightly coiled body, but he seemed to relax slightly when we touched. His hands stroked up my arms to cup my face and then he leaned forward and kissed me gently. I tasted the bourbon again. It had a smooth, smoky flavor that was earthy and elemental, much like the man himself. The sweet kiss deepened when I responded, and he pulled me closer, pressing me against him so we were one. His lips touched mine tenderly, but there was something else there too—something desperate and dark. And something temptingly erotic. My toes curled as my body came alive with desire. I wanted more. More of his mouth, more of his hands, more of everything.

But instead of giving in to temptation, William pulled back and sighed again. “Thank you for coming, Catherine. I know this wasn’t what we had planned for today. It means the world to me that you would drop everything to be with me. And I know I owe you explanations. I promise they’ll come. Soon.” He raked a hand through his hair, closing his eyes briefly in what looked like pain. “It’s such a fucked-up, sordid story,” he said, eyes still closed as though he was seeing it in his mind. “I hope it doesn’t change anything, but I know it might.” His eyes opened and his gaze met mine again. I could tell that whatever this was, it was weighing heavily on him.

“William, I can’t believe…” I started to utter a protest, as I couldn’t think of anything he might reveal that would change the way I felt about him, but he cut me off.

“It can wait. It will take a while to tell you all of it anyway, and now isn’t the time.” He gently set me back on the couch, and I had to resist the urge to climb back into his warm, welcoming lap.

He stood. “As I said, it’s just the pilots and the two of us, no flight attendant. Are you certain I can’t get you something?” But he wasn’t really looking at me as he spoke. Again, he was distracted and so far away.

“I’m really not hungry,” I said again. “Maybe later.” I accepted I wasn’t going to get the answers I wanted right now, but that didn’t silence all the troubling thoughts that were starting to swirl around in my head. I tried to stay focused on William and his needs, as he was so obviously out of sorts. “Why don’t you go lie down?” I suggested. “Relax.”

“That’s a good idea,” he said and started for the bedroom without even a backward glance. I’d never seen him like this. It was fascinating in one sense, but it concerned me too. I waited for William to look back at me, for him to motion for me to follow him into the bedroom—I was hoping to join the Mile High Club, after all—but he opened the door and shut it without a single acknowledgement or invitation to join him. And that was
really
not like William.

What exactly waited for us in Napa?

I looked around the empty cabin, feeling uneasy. It was a little creepy to be alone on a plane like this and I almost wished Anthony had flown with us. I didn’t like being by myself in the empty cabin, but there wasn’t much I could do at this point. The flight was just over three hours, and I was apparently going to be entertaining myself for most of it. I thought about pulling out my laptop and doing some work, but the idea didn’t appeal. Instead, I grabbed my tablet and my headphones and scrolled through the movies I’d downloaded. I curled up on the sectional, throw pillows tucked around me, and started a movie. After about fifteen minutes, my stomach rumbled and I decided maybe I would have a snack after all.

Leave it to William to stock his plane with the kind of food I’d expect from one of the Michelin-starred restaurants he favored. I spotted the lobster club sandwich and the spring rolls he’d offered, and there was also a cucumber and shrimp salad, Asian beef with noodles, crème brûlée cheesecake with fresh berries, and toffee-covered macadamia nuts. No airplane peanuts for William. There was even popcorn, but it was wasabi ranch flavor, which I’d never tried, and I didn’t want to sample it now. I decided on a fruit salad and a sparkling water and, with another look at the closed bedroom door, returned to my movie.

I’d unwittingly chosen a romantic comedy—or perhaps the choice was more deliberate on the part of my unconscious than I wanted to admit. The story reminded me of how I’d met William outside Willowgrass on the night I’d been scoping out the restaurant for the
Chicago Now
shoot. One of these days I was going to have to call Jenny Hill and thank her for breaking her wrist so I’d been able to take the assignment. It had turned out to be a lot more than a good career opportunity. I never would have thought that less than a month later, I’d be in love again—with Stormy Eyes, the handsome man I literally fell for that night—and watching a movie on his private jet.

I still found it hard to believe that a girl like me was with a man like William Lambourne. He had everything. He was gorgeous, with all that thick mahogany hair, those stormy blue-grey eyes, and that ripped body. And he was rich. I still had difficulty fathoming the extent of his wealth. His penthouse was the kind of place someone like me only read about in magazines. I had no idea how many business ventures he was involved in, but WML Capital Management seemed to have more than its share of
global interests
. Hell, we were going to his vineyard on his private jet, and the watch I was wearing was worth more than my yearly income. And though he could be infuriatingly bossy and demanding and downright thickheaded at times, he was also sweet, caring, sensitive, and passionate about so many things, including food. I’d eaten more with William and in front of William than I had with any other man in my entire life. And I’d loved every bite of it.

But he had his drawbacks too. If I was being romantic, I’d say he was mysterious, but really he was incredibly secretive. He’d already amassed a track record of withholding information from me when he felt like it. Important information about things like his socialite ex-girlfriends or spontaneous overseas trips, and, of course, about his family and the accident that had claimed their lives. The reason for this trip fell under the “Secretive” category, but I was letting it slide because of how obviously upsetting the situation was. Plus, I had reason to believe he was going to change his mysterious ways. It couldn’t just be sex between us. I needed more, and I knew William wanted more too. We’d talked about that. 

An hour and a half later my movie ended, and I was bored and annoyed, flipping through an old magazine I’d found. Apparently even flights on private jets weren’t exciting past the first few minutes. The co-pilot had come out earlier to check on me, which was nice. When I’d told him William was sleeping, he hadn’t seemed surprised.

“He usually sleeps,” he’d said. “He hates to fly.”

I’d wondered if the co-pilot knew about the Xanax too. Sometimes it seemed like everyone knew William better than me.

“It should be a smooth flight. We’ll be there on time, if not a few minutes early,” he had said before shutting himself back in the cockpit.

“Great,” I’d said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

In truth, a ball of dread formed in my belly when I thought about returning to California. I didn’t know how I was going to avoid being reminded of Jace and the life we shared there together. Santa Cruz seemed like forever ago, but parts of it were still so raw they might have happened yesterday. And those parts still ripped at old and tender wounds. I pushed all of that out of my mind and focused on the real reason for the trip: William. We were going to be spending our time at his vineyard in Napa and that was far, far away from anything that could hurt me. But it would have been nice if William had been here to distract me from my worries.

I shivered, noting that, just like a commercial airliner, it was too cold. I checked the cupboards and couldn’t find a blanket. Now would have been a great time for a flight attendant to appear. But I was on my own, and I wasn’t helpless. The blankets were probably stored in the bedroom. Quietly, I opened the door and tiptoed inside. I stopped in my tracks, staring at William in shock.

He was out. I’d rarely seen him sleep, much less sleep so deeply. I moved closer so I could see his face, which was turned toward me. His strong features were slack, but his brow was drawn with tension. Despite his light snoring, I didn’t think his slumber was peaceful.

He stirred a little when I closed the door, but then he quieted again and his breathing became regular. One arm was thrown up over his head, and a blanket was twisted around his legs. He wore a T-shirt and boxer briefs, the black clothing and the swirl of his dark hair like a stain on the white sheets. His body was perfect, his biceps making the T-shirt’s sleeve bunch, and the lines of his flat abs were visible where his shirt had pulled up slightly. He was a fallen angel asleep in his winged chariot, and I couldn’t resist him.

What the hell?
I thought. Why should I resist him? He was
my
fallen angel. I quickly stripped down to my ivory bra and panties, which were embellished with delicate lace. I felt almost virginal in them, especially with William wearing all that black. I climbed in bed beside him; it was plenty big enough for both of us.

“Catherine,” he murmured, shifting slightly onto his side. I pulled the blanket up to cover us and spooned behind him. Did the man ever get cold? The heat radiating from him immediately warmed me. Neither of us had slept much the night before, and I felt my body relax and melt into his. He sighed and pulled my arm tighter around him. This was home, I thought. Even though I was in-between worlds—somewhere between my first home and my new home—William was my anchor now. I snuggled into him, putting my head behind his shoulder and breathing in his strong, masculine scent. My eyes drifted closed and, wrapped in his warmth, I fell asleep.

***

A quiet buzz made my eyelids flutter, and I blinked awake, momentarily confused by my surroundings. I was moving, and yet I was lying still in a comfortable bed with the softest sheets and blanket enveloping me. And I wasn’t alone.

William.

My eyes closed again, and I felt him reach to answer the phone. The room was silent except for the distant droning of the plane’s engines until William said, “Very good,” and hung up. Even half-asleep I marveled that he sounded awake and collected. The mattress beneath me moved as I felt him turn to face me. I managed to open my eyes and give him a sleepy smile, but I was so relaxed and warm that I struggled to keep them open. They fluttered closed, and I imagined I was drifting on a cloud, thirty thousand feet in the air.

William’s finger stroked my cheek. “Wake up, beautiful girl,” he murmured.

With difficulty, I opened my eyes. He was smiling at me, his own eyes soft and grey.

“We’ll be landing soon.”

“Hi,” I whispered, wanting to keep the intimacy of the moment. “I hope you don’t mind that I joined you. I was cold and kind of lonely out there by myself.” I snuggled closer to him. “And it looked so warm and inviting in here, even if you were dead to the world.”

“Mind?” He laughed gently, his hand cupping my cheek. “Of course I don’t mind. I can’t think of a better way to wake up. I love you in any bed I’m in, Catherine.”

My heart sped up at this and a thrill of longing raced through me. I loved that he used the word
love
with me, even though neither of us had confessed feeling that yet. I knew I loved him, and I knew I was going to tell him on this trip. Even if William wasn’t saying he loved me, it still felt special when he used the word to describe us. Maybe if I started to use it more, it would make revealing my feelings easier. “Good, because I love being here with you too.”

His mouth nudged mine open, his lips playful and searching. His hand trailed down my arm and came to rest on my lower back, pulling me closer. His mouth closed over mine, our tongues entwining as his hands explored my body. If I had been warm before, I was burning up now.

He trailed kisses along my jaw, moving to nuzzle my neck and glide his mouth over my collarbone, toward my breasts. “There’s just one problem.”

“What’s that?” I asked, my voice breathless, my nipples already beginning to harden in anticipation of his skilled lips and tongue.

He reached for my bra clasp. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

The front closure of my ivory bra snapped open, and slowly, William pushed the lacy material away. His fingertips brushed against my flesh as the material parted, and I felt my skin flush and tingle with awareness. My breathing was already shallow and my heart rammed in my chest. Being with William was always exciting, but sex at thirty thousand feet was the height of sensual decadence. I’d been thinking about us together like this all day, and my body was more than ready for him.

I moaned as his lips skated over my bare skin. His breath was hot and his tongue moist as it darted out to tease one of my nipples. My breasts were heavy, aching for his touch. He sensed I didn’t want gentle right now and his mouth closed on one of my hardened peaks and sucked, making me gasp. My hips lifted in response, and I ached to get closer to him. It seemed like I could never get close enough.

His hands fondled and stroked as his mouth worked on me, teasing and tonguing until I was writhing. Then he stopped. “You have magnificent tits.”

What? It took me a moment to focus on his words, and even then I could only moan. Why was he stopping?

“I love your breasts.” He kissed them, stroking them lovingly.

There was that word again: love. “I’m glad you love them.”

“I’m being serious.” He propped his head on his elbow and studied me carefully. So I guessed we were going to have a conversation about my breasts now. I was amused and also very turned on.

He cupped my right breast and tested its weight. “You fit my hand perfectly.” His fingers stroked my sensitive skin. “And your areolas...very nice. They’re naturally rosy.”

“My areolas?” I laughed again. “That sounds so clinical.” I cleared my throat. “I’m impressed with your knowledge of female anatomy, Mr. Lambourne,” I said in my most professional voice.

He ignored my teasing, though I swore I saw his lips curve slightly. “Yes, your
areolas
, Catherine. As I was saying, before you interrupted, they’re naturally rosy, and they turn a dusky pink when you’re turned on.” His gaze met mine. “Like now.” His gaze flicked back to my breasts, and he circled the pad of his thumb over my erect nipple. I had difficulty concentrating on his words. I was wet for him, my lace-trimmed ivory panties damp against my sex.

“You know how I can tell when you’re about to come?” he asked. “Your nipples get rock hard just before.” He tongued my left nipple, sucking and licking it while his hand massaged my right breast. I felt hot desire coiling in my core and the heavy liquid heat pooled until the pressure made me feel as though I’d explode. His lips pulled harder, demanding more, and I winced. My breasts were more tender than normal, and his skilled mouth and tongue were delivering an irresistible combination of pleasure and pain that already had me shuddering with pleasure.

“Are you okay?” he asked. I should have known he would notice my reaction. He was so attuned to my every need and desire.

“More than okay,” I said, my voice breathy. “I’m going to get my period soon, so I’m a little extra sensitive.” I don’t know why telling him this made me blush, but it did. “But it’s good. So good. Don’t stop.”

He paused and glanced up at me. “That will be new for us. I’ll have to remember to exploit this sensitivity in the future. I bet if I do this,” he nipped at my already tortured point, “you’ll feel it all the way down here.” His leg parted mine and his thigh brushed my sex, where my clit was pulsing. He nipped me again, and my hips arched off the bed and I moaned. I clamped my legs about his, and I rocked against him, trying to ease the building ache.

“I can make you come,” William murmured, his voice deep and husky. “Just with my mouth, just on your breasts. I don’t even have to touch your clit.”

My hips were moving rhythmically now as he worked me with his hands. He nuzzled against my neck and whispered, “Do you want me to keep touching you like this, Catherine?” His voice sounded dark, breathy, and erotic.

I already felt my orgasm building. I gave a short laugh. “It’s like high school. No going past second base, right?”

He made a low growl in the back of his throat and moved so I could feel his hard cock against my leg. He was just as worked up as I was. “I don’t know what kind of high school you went to...”

I smiled at the censure in his tone.

“And I don’t want to think about some horny, fumbling teenage boy touching you like this in the back of his mother’s station wagon.” His mouth closed on my aching breast again, and I gasped.

“A station wagon?” I teased when I could breathe again. “Give me some credit.”

“I don’t care what kind of car he had. He couldn’t make you feel like this.” He sucked long and hard, and I felt a pull in my core. “Could he do this to you?”