His Forever (His #3) (3 page)

“No,” I moaned, not wanting to admit the truth.   I wasn’t that kind of girl.  I wasn’t a sex crazed risk taker who’d stop at nothing to get off.  Only a short time ago I’d been a twenty-eight year old virgin whose entire life revolved around academia.  I definitely wasn’t the kind of girl who fucked her boyfriend on an airplane…except apparently I was.

Hayden brought something out in me I just couldn’t explain.  He pushed me to move beyond my comfort zone, trying new things and relishing in the
danger.  And now he was going to make me cum on a plane.

“Your pussy is so wet,” he informed me softly as his fingers strummed relentlessly at my hardened clit.  “You’re practically hyperventilating and your legs are shaking.  You’re going to cum any minute.  Just give into it.  Give into me.  Go on:  cum for me, Daniella…cum for me.”

As though my body was obediently responding to his verbal command, I felt myself shudder.  My abdomen tensed and my thighs trembled.  Then sweet, relentless pleasure invaded my very being, ravaging my senses.  It was white hot, mind-numbing ecstasy, all-consuming and almost a little bit frightening because it was just
so
good.  It was a wonder I didn’t scream. 

We stumbled out of the bathroom a
few moments later.  I was sure I looked flushed and my hair was dishevelled – but I told myself that was okay because I was playing the part of a woman with motion sickness.  Somehow, Hayden emerged unscathed.  He looked as put together as ever in the expensive suit he’d traded for his swim trunks shortly after his father’s unexpected arrival.

All eyes were on us.

“She’s fine, folks,” Hayden announced cheerfully, implicitly telling everyone to quit staring.  “We’re just going to curl up under a blanket and ride out the rest of this flight,” he added with a charming smile. 

The flight attendant quickly brought over a blanket as Hayden eased me into my seat.
  It wasn’t necessary for him to help me when I wasn’t actually sick, but the chivalry was sort of nice.

After sitting down next to me, Hayden pulled the blanket up over our heads.  It felt almost like we were two little kids in a homemade fort.  Except I could sense a shift in Hayden…he didn’t have that carefree demeanor one would expect of a man who’d just fashioned a makeshift tent out of a blanket.

“My father and I spoke back in Jamaica while you were packing your things,” he said quietly so that only I could hear.  I leaned against him, noting with a twinge of sadness that our naughty encounter in the bathroom had only served to momentarily distract him.  It certainly hadn’t made him forget his troubles – not that I would have expected it to.

“Oh?”

“He fired Steve,” Hayden said.  “As soon as my father found out Steve set him up to purchase a stolen painting, all bets were off.  My father took away Steve’s home, his cars, his reputation, his employability…everything.  He said it was only fair that he destroy Steve just like Steve wanted to destroy him.  He said Steve ought to be thanking him for not involving the authorities.”

“Well to be fair,” I countered cautiously, “Steve did break the law.”

Hayden sighed, sounding like a man much older than his years.  “I know what it must look like to you.  And you’re right, what Steve did was wrong.  But I understand his motivations and I appreciate what he was trying to do.  In fact, I’m a bit disappointed it didn’t occur to me to hatch a similar plan myself.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I?”

I hesitated.  I knew how important Steve was to Hayden.  He’d been the only real father figure Hayden had ever had
, but my first impression of him had admittedly not been the greatest.  “Did you really believe Steve when he said he was stealing the money for your benefit?” I pressed gently, trying to be as tactful as possible while still getting my point across.  “How do you know he wasn’t trying to take your father’s fortune for himself?  Doesn’t that seem more likely?”

Beside me, I felt Hayden tense.  “He wouldn’t do that,” he
rejected the suggestion gruffly, shutting down immediately.  “I know Steve.  He just wouldn’t do that.”  Abruptly he pulled the blanket off of us, yanking us out of our special, private little world.  He turned his back to me then, shutting me out entirely.  “I’m going to nap for a bit before we land,” he informed me. 

But I knew that wasn’t the real reason he was putting distance between us. 

Though my intentions had been good, I sensed I’d crossed a line when I’d questioned Steve’s motives.  Hayden was annoyed with me.  But could he really blame me for being on edge?  Sometimes it felt like my life had become a soap opera and there were too many twists and turns to keep up with.  It was mentally exhausting.

With a sigh, I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes, intending to think things through.  With so many absurd recent events and
odd discoveries floating around inside my head, I didn’t even know where to start.  Instead of attempting to make sense of everything that was going on, I drifted off into an uneasy slumber plagued by nightmares.

When we arrived at Henrik Slate’s sprawling Malibu estate, I wasn’t at all prepared for what awaited us.  The mansion looked like a castle, massive and
meticulously designed.  The grounds were perfectly landscaped and the interior was equally as impressive. 

It felt like a gigantic maze I could easily get lost in…and it was the sort of place I
wanted
to get lost in.  It was hard to believe that people actually lived this way, where no expense was spared and no luxury was too over the top.  Even more unbelievable was the knowledge that I was now one of those people, a guest in Henrik’s home for the foreseeable future.

Hayden, unsurprisingly, didn’t share my sense of wonder. 
As soon as we arrived at the estate, a telling darkness came over him.  I could only imagine the painful memories the house that wasn’t a home held for him.  But he didn’t confide in me.  Instead, he kept whatever he was feeling bottled up and retreated inward. 

I didn’t like
the change I was seeing in him one bit.  It felt like when Henrik was around, Hayden became a different person – just a shell of his former self.  I hadn’t expected that; the only time I’d really seen them together was at the party Henrik had thrown and that had been too brief to make any lasting impression. 

The transformation I saw made me worry for Hayden.  It was especially troubling to see the way he was withdrawing from me,
but I tried my best to give him space.  I knew he needed to work through whatever was going on inside on his own terms.  If and when he was ready to talk, I’d be there waiting.

I just hoped that making him return to his father’s mansion hadn’t been a mistake.

With awe in my eyes, I wandered from room to room of the breathtaking house, my breath taken away by the beautiful interior design.  Expensive antique furniture complemented the artwork that hung prominently displayed on every wall.  It was clear that Henrik was indeed a serious art collector.  I almost felt like I was in a gallery or museum, and was a little afraid to touch anything at all lest I damage it.

Though it was exquisite, I could understand what Hayden had meant when he told me the mansion was cold. 
There were no family photos and in fact, no personal mementos of any kind whatsoever.  It didn’t even look like anyone lived there, and it certainly didn’t feel that way.  How can an immaculately designed, pristine art gallery feel like a home? 

I was so busy admiring my surroundings and struggling to imagine Hayden growing up in that
impossibly formal atmosphere that I lost track of him.  I realized I was alone.  I began to wander from room to room in search of my boyfriend, a little voice in the back of my mind warning me I was going to get impossibly lost if I didn’t pay close attention to my route.

After a while, I heard the low murmur of voices down at the end of a lengthy corridor.  I recognize
d one of the voices as being Hayden’s and moved toward it eagerly.  He sounded agitated and, the closer I got, the louder he spoke.  By the time I was standing outside the door he was shouting.

I peeked into the room just as Hayden was
calling his father a selfish bastard and accusing him of tearing the family apart.  I hesitated, unsure of whether I should interrupt or leave them be.  Just then the partially closed door flew open and Hayden stormed out in a blind rage.  If he saw me standing there, he didn’t let on.

Staring after Hayden in bewilderment, I didn’t even notice Henrik standing in the doorway to what appeared to be a grand, fantastic office full of leather furniture and, of course, more art. 
He was looking at me. 

“Come in,”
he ordered, the dominant personality mirroring his son’s in a way that was interesting if not a bit unnerving.  It wasn’t an invitation.  It was a command.  And since I was a guest in his home
and
he was my boyfriend’s father, I was reluctant to pick a fight with him. 

Suddenly feeling timid, I followed Henrik into his office.  He shut the door behind us and wordlessly selected a bottle from the massive oak wine rack
in the corner.  It was so elaborate and ornate that it almost looked like a piece of art itself.  But that seemed to be par for the course at Henrik Slate’s mansion; it was clear he had rich tastes. 

He sat down in the high backed leather chair and motioned for me to take a seat across from him.

“I don’t like to drink alone,” he explained as he popped the cork on the bottle and poured a glass.  “And I could really use a drink.  That boy is impossible,” he sighed wearily with an annoyed shake of his head.

Looking at him from across the desk,
Henrik looked like an older version of Hayden.  His white hair gave him a distinguished appearance and his attitude of entitlement seemed to demand respect.  But I wasn’t one to give into demands.  Respect, as far as I was concerned, had to be earned.  And Henrik had in no way earned my respect.  I’d be polite unless he gave me a good reason to rip him a new one, but that was it.

“No thank you,” I said coolly when Henrik offered me a drink.

He shrugged dismissively and took a sip of it himself.  “How much did you hear?” he asked.

“Not much,” I replied honestly.

“Hayden and I have never exactly seen eye to eye,” he informed me.  His tone was one of exasperation but if I really concentrated and made an effort to look beyond that, there was a definite sadness there as well.  “He blames me for the divorce.  He blames me for taking his mother away.”

“Did you?” I asked.  I was
emboldened by the slight show of vulnerability I’d seen in Henrik.  “When you turned up in Jamaica you said you know where Hayden’s mother is.  You said you’ve always known.  What’s that about?”

Henrik regarded me with an undecipherable expression on his face.  For a moment I wondered if he was going to admonish me for butting in
where I really had no place.  I was, after all, a guest in his home and had no right to demand answers from him. 

But he didn’t get angry.  Instead, he cocked his head to the side in the same way Hayden did when he was pondering something.  “You’re different from the other girls,” he said
, apparently declining to answer my question.

“Pardon me?”

“Hayden never brought his girls around,” Henrik said before pausing to pour another drink.  “But that didn’t mean I was in the dark.  He tried to shut me out but I had my ways.  I looked into them – it’s a father’s job to look into his son’s girlfriends, especially with such a massive fortune on the line.”

I stared back at Henrik thoughtfully, the wheels in my head turning. 
Maybe I’d been hasty in thinking that Henrik was pure evil personified.  I’d based that analysis mostly on the things my boyfriend had told me.  Hayden maintained that his father had never cared about him or taken an interest in his life.  But Henrik’s words didn’t sound like those of an indifferent, uninvolved father.  Could it be that Hayden was mistaken?

“Hayden’s women
were Fawns and Bunnies, bar dancers and so-called actresses.  They were floozies with no substance, just out to have a good time and run up Hayden’s charge cards.  But you…you’re not a dancer or an actress – although that little performance of yours on the plane was impressive.”

“Performance…but…but…oh…” 
I blushed hotly and began to stutter, deeply embarrassed to realize that Henrik hadn’t been fooled by my feigned illness.  He’d seen me going into the bathroom with his son and if he knew I wasn’t actually sick then…
Oh God. 
I was mortified beyond belief and at a total loss for words.  What must he think of me?

Henrik waved his hand dismissively.  “No need to say anything.  I was young and
smitten once too, you know.  Hayden probably wouldn’t believe me if I told him but I loved his mother dearly in the beginning.” 

My mouth felt dry
but I looked at Henrik inexplicably feeling deeply grateful that he wasn’t going to dwell on my inappropriate behavior aboard his jet.  “What happened?” I asked, partly due to curiosity and partly in an effort to steer the conversation in another direction as quickly as I possibly could.