Landing the Air Marshal (Snowpocalypse) (11 page)

“Exactly. Let me take care of you,” he whispered in her ear.

All she could manage was an
mmhmm
as Gage turned her around so her ass was facing him. Her hands were splayed against the wall, and her cheek pressed against the cool concrete. He pushed up her skirt and a burst of cold air hit her thighs as the material whooshed past her ass, exposing her garter belt and panties.

“Hey.”

“I need you. Now,” he growled.

And with that, he grabbed the flimsy fabric of her panties and a light rip echoed through the stairwell as the fabric snapped beneath his hand.

His hands worked across her ass, kneading, groping, his thumb getting so close to places she’d never had touched before. She felt herself leaning into his touch, craving more, needing more. Everything just needed to be
more
. A sizzle started at the base of her spine and pulsed in toward her aching clit. They were out in the middle of a stairwell. Her best pair of panties were now as good as scrap yarn. If someone came through any of the doors… A shiver ran through her. The thought of someone happening upon the scene sent an unexpected jolt through her. Heck, let them see her with her ass shoved in the air.

Gage’s teeth grazed over the sensitive skin of her ass, his fingers smoothing up the backs of her thighs. “That’s right, bend over, sweetheart. Keep your hands on the wall.”

Every time he called her sweetheart, heat spread between her thighs. His slight drawl melted all coherent thoughts. Abby obliged and bent over move, and she gasped as one of Gage’s thick fingers rubbed across her slick center and entered her with ease. He groaned and added a second finger, working her, stretching her. “You’re so ready for me. Have you wanted this all night?” His fingers moved in measured circles along her sensitive, swollen skin. Her fingers dug into the wall as she worked at keeping her breathing steady. It was no use. Tiny pants started from her belly and left her fighting for air.

“Yes. Oh God, yes.”

“Oh, we’re just getting started. Don’t think you’re getting off just yet.” His fingers disappeared from her momentarily, and just as she was about to peer around her shoulder, she felt a stinging sensation, and a loud
thwack
echoed in the stairwell as Gage’s hand connected with the space where her ass and thigh met.

“Oh!” Pain rushed through her, along with a warmth that pulsed between her legs. Her thighs shook and her breaths came out short and jagged. If she looked around, she’d bet her ass would be pink with Gage’s palm print. Something about that was so dirty and delicious.

His fingers returned to her, and he groaned. “You are so fucking wet. You like being spanked, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” she breathed out. She was finding she liked a lot of things she never knew she would before this weekend. She wished there was more time to explore things she’d been missing out on when it came to a man’s touch. Gage’s touch.

Again his hand bit into her ass, and she let out a moan. Pain mixed with sharp pleasure that radiated through her bones.

She turned around to look at him. Heat flamed in his eyes, and his tongue slid across his bottom lip. She couldn’t take it anymore. She needed him. Inside her. Filling her. Dominating her.

“Please. I need you,” she whimpered. The space between her thighs throbbed for him, almost to the point of being painful.

“So I’m allowed to help a lady in distress now?” A smirk crossed his smug face. What was it about him that was so damn charming that instead of wanting to smack him, she wanted to bend over farther? She was far worse off than originally thought. This connection she held with him—it hit deeper than just a sexual level. Something she’d been in search of for so long. And here it was in the form of Gage.

“Just this once,” she amended. Ugh, could she sound any more desperate? But that’s what he did to her—made her feel desperate in a way that could only be remedied by him.

Gage stood and pulled out his wallet and extracted a condom. Within seconds, he was protected and slid back up to Abby. His erection slicked across her center, and it was a minor miracle she kept upright. Everything—the feel of Gage’s weight pushed against her, the wall of muscles her body was pressed up against, the way his stubble grazed along her neck—it all sent her into a spiral.

With that, he guided his cock between her thighs, and she pressed her head against the concrete, unable to hold back a throaty moan.

“Fuck, you feel so right, Abby,” he growled. His fingers dug into her flesh and each time he rammed into her, she lost her breath a little more. She didn’t know if it was because he’d used her actual name, or the fact that this new angle was hitting just the right spot, or maybe it was a combination of things, but this was it—she knew she’d be ruined forever for other men. Damn Gage and his rough, calloused hands that fit perfectly around her waist. Damn it all to hell. She was so fucked. Literally and figuratively.

“Oh, Gage,” she cried out as he filled her. His words couldn’t have been truer. This felt right. She never wanted this bubble of paradise to end.

His hands slid up her stomach, palming her breasts, his fingers finding their way to her nipples. He rubbed them slowly, circling the sensitive buds, moving at the same tempo as he pumped in and out of her. It was maddening. Her sex pulsed against him as he took her higher. She squeezed her eyes shut as she pushed against him, seeking the release that was about to hurtle through her like a tidal wave.

Just as she was about to let go and give in to her climax, Gage’s hands left her chest and he pulled out. He flipped her around and regarded her with those intense honey eyes, his hands gripping her shoulders. “I need to see your face when you scream my name.” And with that, he swooped his hands under her ass, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he repositioned himself inside of her.

Lips pressed against lips, hands tangled in each other’s hair, and Abby didn’t know where her breath began and Gage’s ended. Concrete dug into her ass each time he pounded her into the wall, and the slapping of skin echoed in the stairwell.

“I can’t get enough of you.” His voice was strained and sounded as desperate as she felt. She couldn’t get enough of him, either. When tomorrow came, they’d be leaving in two separate planes headed to different parts of the country. This couldn’t be it. It just couldn’t.

Chapter Eleven

By the time they made it back to the penthouse, Abby’s legs felt as if they were made of gelatin, and she had a stupid smile slapped on her face. Gage had held her hand the entire way up, fingers laced together as he carried her piggyback up the last of the stairs, and hadn’t let go since they walked back into the suite. Not being able to take the flight back to L.A. and resume work at Yellow Raft should have left her in a sour mood, but if anything, she felt lighter than she had in years.

They collapsed on the couch in a sated daze, Abby’s head resting on his chest. She absentmindedly traced circles across his pecs, enjoying the warmth, the utter bliss she felt with his arms wrapped around her waist.

“Well, boss, what should we do?” she asked.

“Let’s check out that hot tub on the deck. I could use a little rest and relaxation for a few minutes.” He shot a lazy smile in her direction.

“I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”

“Didn’t, either.”

She nodded. Okay. Skinny-dipping should seem like a small concession when she just fucked a dude in a hotel stairwell. Plus, he’d been up close and personal with every inch of her. It wasn’t like he’d suddenly change his mind about her after what they just did.

He pushed off the couch and pulled his shirt over his head, exposing every inch of taut skin. The muscles in her belly clenched. The likelihood of her tiring of this sight hovered between
never
and
when hell froze over.

Her shaky fingers pulled at the waist of her skirt, and she stepped out of it as it pooled on the floor. Gah. What was with all the nerves?

He’s seen you naked. Pull an Elsa and just Let it Go.
Right. He’d treated her like a goddamn sex goddess—might as well fake the confidence of one. She was totally going to rock skinny-dipping in a hot tub.

Before she could think too hard, she removed the rest of her clothes and followed Gage out onto the blustery cold veranda. And immediately regretted the decision to disrobe before stepping outside.

“Fuck, it’s cold.” Gage quickly opened the lid of the hot tub and pushed it to the ground. “Up you go before you freeze.” He grabbed Abby by the waist and lifted her into the hot tub. Hot water licked at her goose-bumped flesh.

She didn’t bother making a big deal about being picked up. She’d spent so long fending for herself that it was nice to be taken care of for once. “Thanks.”

Gage hopped in with a surprising amount of grace for such a hulk of a man. He slid in beside her, and his hand immediately found her thigh. Her stomach coiled from the touch. She’d never describe herself as the touchy-feely type, but maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe it just took the right man to bring out this need.

“This is so much better than work.” She sighed and rested her head against the back of the hot tub, her muscles in complete nirvana.

“Agreed.”

She shifted to look at him, at the way his eyelashes fanned over the tops of his cheeks. It was an obvious fact that she could never tire of looking at his face. Chiseled, stubbled perfection. “You always want to be an air marshal?”

“I was in the military before. Decided I wanted something a little less stressful after one of my tours.” The rough pads of his fingers skated across her skin. Her concentration went to absolute shit whenever his hands were on her.

“What about you? Always wanted to be a set scout?”

She nodded. “Not set scout, but definitely in the film industry. It incorporates my two favorite things: movies and traveling.” Even if she hated the whole flying thing.

“Sounds like a tough business. You have a favorite movie genre you like to scout for?”

“It’s a tossup between horror, western, or sci-fi.”

“Eclectic taste. I like it.” He continued massaging her thigh, and it took every ounce of energy to keep her mind on the conversation.

“Three things you’d bring with you on a deserted island.” She always found it interesting what people chose. It said a lot about someone.

“Besides a boat or a helicopter?”

She looked at him.

He smirked. “Okay, fine. A rain catcher, matches, and a tent.”

“All very practical.” Exactly what she’d expect from him. Logical, straight to the point, always got what he wanted. Seemed like he knew exactly what he wanted as soon as he sat down next to her on the flight to New York. And look where she was now. In a hot tub. Naked.

“Ten years in the service will do that to a man.”

“Do you miss it?” She liked this side of Gage, liked getting to know him more. The sex was mind-blowing, for sure, but it was always nice to be able to carry on a conversation with someone.

“What? The military?”

She nodded. It was a close call with which was hotter—him as an air marshal or him in BDUs.

“No. I did my time, and becoming an air marshal was a nice change of pace. Travel a lot more, but overall less stressful.”

With how often she traveled, she wondered if he’d ever been on a flight with her before. The chance of that was pretty slim, since there were thousands of flights every day. Would it ever happen again? She hoped to hell it would. After all, she was living in a fantasy world this weekend, so why couldn’t she fantasize about meeting up with him sometime in the future? Yep, she was officially delusional. That didn’t stop her from wanting to slam the metaphorical brakes on this weekend and live in this moment for a bit longer.

“What about you? What would you bring on a deserted island?”

“First off, I’m the first to admit—zombies? Give me a machete. Island? Give me a couple days before I go insane.” She smiled at him. “I’d bring my favorite book, salted caramel, and my iPad.”

“Those are the most impractical things I’ve heard.”

“Never said it had to be practical. Just has to get me through a couple days until I wither away from too much sun and impending insanity.”

His low chuckle vibrated through her chest.

“Oh, and sushi. Because why the hell not?”

Gage shuddered. “I’ll pass on that.”

“Excuse me. Sushi makes an excellent meal.”

“Maybe if you don’t have a heat source and are desperate. Which I guess on a deserted island you would be.”

“It’s my go-to food.” In fact, the first place she’d be stopping after her flight home was Sushi Mio. Stress-eating her feelings seemed like an appropriate way to fill the Gage void.

He blanched.

“Fine. What do you deem as an appropriate food?”

“Cornbread? Fried chicken? Grits?”

Yuck. Grits? Wasn’t that like oatmeal but…grittier? Yeah, she didn’t understand that southern staple one bit. “You lost me at grits.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you’d like my grits.”

She had no doubt she’d like anything this man dished up. He could make her burned toast, and she’d still eat it with a smile on her face. The lucky woman who ended up with this man—who probably would cook breakfast every morning—would decidedly hit the jackpot. “I’d need a lot of convincing of this.”

“Grits is a staple food where I’m from.”

“Let’s just agree that your opinion has obviously been warped by that South Carolina sun.”

“Is that so?”

“It’s a known fact. Plus, that whole southern accent must affect your taste buds in some way,” she teased. Yeah, right. The only thing his accent did was dampen her panties.

“Now you’re just asking for it.” He grabbed her ankle and pulled Abby into his lap. She giggled as water sloshed out of the hot tub and their skin molded together. His lips swept across hers, and she was pulled under his spell once more. She could stay in here all night—heck, she could stay here for a year, and it still wouldn’t be enough time with him. What was it that made him different? Sadly, she wouldn’t have the chance to find out.

But she wouldn’t let that thought ruin the remaining hours they had. Even when they weren’t connected in the most intimate of ways, just being with Gage had a calming effect on her.

The next hour was spent with lazy kisses, wandering fingers, and the general satisfaction of laying against Gage’s chest.

After changing into sweats, they wandered back into the living room and plopped down in the corner of the couch.

“I say we see what the Winchester has for a cable plan,” he said, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen on her cheek behind her ear.

“It’s a hotel, so probably crappy reruns and basic cable.”

Gage arched a brow. “How many hotels do you know that would skimp on cable if they had customers paying for a basketball court on the roof of their penthouse?”

She nodded and smiled, pressing her nose into his shirt. Inhaling deeply, she put his scent to memory—body wash, laundry detergent, the hint of his cologne, and something that could only be described as undeniably male. “Good point.”

Gage reached for the remote and clicked it on. An action movie blared through the surround sound system, and he worked at lowering the volume. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Let’s just flip through and see? Maybe there’s a good horror flick on.” Honestly, the show didn’t matter. All she wanted to do was enjoy these last few hours, get lost in Gage and his warmth and the way he made her feel. She closed her eyes and continued tracing her fingers over his chest and down his arms. There would not be one inch that she wouldn’t know by heart. Maybe she should invest in a body pillow. There had to be something for single people—a Build-A-Boyfriend. But even a pillow wouldn’t be able to replicate every dip and swell of his muscles, the warmth of his skin, the way his voice vibrated against her ear.

Her eyes shot open, and a zip of panic speared at her gut. Um, holy shit. How did she go from totally unattached and
definitely not
looking, to contemplating where to make a life-size pillow replica of Gage? Yep, that dangerous thought was being stuffed back down into the depths of
not happening again.

“A woman after my own heart.”

Her pulse beat at the pace of hummingbird wings upon hearing this. Damn Gage and his wonderfully talented mouth…and tongue…

How was she supposed to go back to all those guys who gave her subpar sex and one-eighth of an orgasm. Hell, a sneeze got her closer to climax than some of those duds.

Okay, you need to play it cool. You’ve got this one-night stand thing on lockdown.

Right. That needed to play on a loop in her mind. She’d better
carpe
as much damn
diem
as possible, because come tomorrow, she’d be living in empty-bed purgatory for the foreseeable future. “You do the cooking, and I’ll pick the entertainment. This sounds like an awesome arrangement.”

“As long as some of the entertainment has to do with the bedroom, I’m all for that.”

She smirked up at him. Their eyes met, and the very center of her heart melted. Gage was so much different than any other guy she’d met. He was multifaceted like a rare diamond. He was kind and sweet, but in the bedroom he turned into something that she’d never experienced before, something that made her actually want to have sex, and more than her scheduled time. In fact, she hadn’t thought about her schedule all weekend—and that never happened. That was it—sex schedule was going in the trash. Because if this was what she was missing all these years, she wanted to make up for lost time.

She glanced back to the TV and smiled.

“I know it’s not a horror film, but how about
Blazing Saddles
?”

“Is that even a question? It’s a classic,” he said.

They settled in and the opening credits ran along the screen. Normally she hated when people talked during movies, but she couldn’t pass up this opportunity, not when the clock was ticking down, and she had approximately ten more hours until they parted ways. “Gage?”

He looked down from the movie, and his brows creased together. “What’s up?”

“Thanks for this. I needed this weekend. More than I knew.” Gage had officially ruined her.

A lazy grin etched his face and lit a fire under her skin. “Best weekend I’ve had in years.”

She leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder. “It’s going to suck going back to reality on Monday.”

“Same.” His fingers skimmed along her arm. “Somehow I don’t think any of my other flights will be nearly as exciting.”

“Maybe you’ll have another
Les Miserables
lover.”

“Shit, I hope not. I’d much rather have you in that tiny pencil skirt.” The scruff on his chin grazed her cheek as he whispered in her ear. “With your panties getting soaking wet while watching porn.” His fingers worked under the band on her sweats and found their way to her thong. They teased along the edge of the lace, his index finger barely grazing over her clit.

Okay, so the movie had been hot, but that wasn’t the reason Abby had been wet on the plane. No, that was all Gage and his gravelly voice and inhibition-melting gaze. “It was so not porn.”

He shifted his gaze to her.

“Okay, so it was pretty much porn.”

She smiled to herself. Gage called it like it was. She admired the man for not holding back. God, why did it have to suck so much that this was their last night together? She’d only known him forty-eight hours. This shouldn’t be so hard, and yet, she wanted to see him again.

“Not even good porn,” he added. “I wish I had more time with you. Show you how fucking good it can be.” With that, he pushed her down onto the couch and made quick work at removing her pants. She spread her legs and Gage was on her, kissing her neck, nipping at her sensitive flesh, grinding against her clit. “If you lived in Charleston, your sweet little pussy would be mine every night.”

“Every night? I think I’d die from exhaustion.” She panted, slipping her hands under his shirt, raking her hands over his back, memorizing the way his skin felt under her fingertips.

“Every. Night.” He kissed his way down the flat of her stomach. Abby sucked a breath through her teeth as Gage slid off her panties and planted kisses along the inside of her thighs, working his way up to her sex. Dark lashes fanned against his face as he looked up at her. “Unless you wouldn’t want this. In that case, maybe I should just stop now.”