He took a private jet here to come get me. I shouldn’t be surprised that’s how we’re getting home.
“Great. So it’ll just be the two of us for hours?”
“The two of us, the flight crew, and the pilot.”
“Just fucking great,” I mutter. I turn away from him, hoping to make him pull away even further, even though it kills me, but apparently, he’ll have none of it. I feel his hand on my arm, tight and warm, and my heart seizes. I turn to him.
“What is it?” I whisper. “What do you want from me?”
“Your bloody fucking honesty,” he says through gritted teeth. “What happened, Fiona?”
I don’t answer him.
“What are you afraid of?” he persists.
How can I tell him it’s everything? Giving myself completely to the Clan and their brutal, unapologetic ways. Men of the Clan claim for life.
All in means shared children with this man—my heart aches—this man I love so much. All in means sending him off to battle, knowing his allegiance is to the men of the Clan above all else. All in means heartache and loss. All in means he’s joined to me… and won’t ever be able to pursue anyone better.
“I’m not afraid,” I lie. “I just… things are moving very quickly.”
I can do this. I can fucking do this.
His eyes narrow on me. “Of course they are. I fucking claimed you.” He shook his head. “I knew this would happen.”
“What?” I snap. I can’t handle the condescending tone. He knew I was too young for this? He knew once we were together that I’d regret it? “What are you, a fucking mind reader?”
A muscle ticks in his jaw. “I knew it was too soon. I knew I should’ve let you go to college, and do your thing. Claiming you this early when you’re not ready… it’s a huge fucking mistake.”
And for some reason, that makes me snap. Snap. The change is so sudden and vivid, it’s like I can almost hear the twang of my heartstrings.
Snap.
Snap.
Snap.
“Fuck. You.”
He glares when our car comes to a stop, but he doesn’t say a word. I reach for my bags, but he plucks them out of my hand in silence. I fume, trying to carry something, but he takes every last bag and jerks his chin toward the jet.
“Go.”
My fists are clenched into balls of fury, but I don’t talk to him. I stalk away from him and let him carry the fucking bags.
I come to a quick halt when I enter the cabin, my eyes going wide. This is like nothing I’ve ever seen before.
Padded ivory chairs with golden accents, a plush carpet, and bright overhead lighting give way to a full table and chairs, like an in-air dinette, and behind that, a full bedroom with one large, mammoth bed.
Great. There is literally nowhere to hide from him up here. It’s luxury at its finest, and I can’t imagine what the McCarthys have paid for such an extravagance. It’s yet another reminder of how I don’t belong.
I plop into one of the seats to the far left, and after he’s secured our bags, it doesn’t surprise me at all when he sits his arse down right next to me. He doesn’t speak, though, but pulls out a magazine, crosses one ankle over his knee, and begins to read.
Good. He’s ignoring me, other than the fact that we’re so close the little hairs on my arm stand on end when he releases a breath. Two can play at this game.
I feel odd without my phone, but Keenan’s had it cancelled and remotely wiped back in Ireland, so no more phantom texts or finding out personal information. I take a paperback book out of my bag and try to read it, but I finally realize I’m reading the same paragraph over and over again. I shove it into my bag.
“Hard to concentrate?” he asks in a smug whisper.
“Oh, shut it,” I snap before I can stop myself. “You can fuck all the way off.”
We’re soaring above the ocean now and my ears are popping, going higher and higher with every second that passes.
“Excuse me?” he asks in a deadly whisper. “Want to repeat that?”
“You heard me.” I shoot him an angry glare. “And don’t you think for a minute that gives you the right to punish me.”
“That right?” he says, with a snarl that makes me quake.
“Mhm.”
I don’t know how convincing I am, but I have to protect my heart. And if I let him have his way with me, he’ll knock down the fortress I’ve constructed. I can’t let him do that.
I look out the window, at the little clouds below, and a glimmer of hope shines in my heart. I’m going home, I think to myself.
But what does home mean?
Why am I disappointed he isn’t fighting back?
Why am I even like this? I hate that I am. I wish I could fully trust, that I didn’t let the doubts and insecurities I’ve battled for so long make me say and do things I don’t want.
But I’m afraid. So fucking afraid.
What does any of this even fucking mean? I feel Lachlan’s hands on my wrists, and I push him away, even as the heat of his touch brands me. I remember being skin to skin, irrevocably tied to him in intimate surrender. I try to push him away, but it’s no use. A moment later I’m fully unbuckled and he’s got me straddling his lap.
Even as I fight him, even as I know I’m going to regret pushing him away, my heart sings with the knowledge that he won’t let me.
“Let me go,” I say, shoving at his wrists, but he’s massive and powerful and he doesn’t even budge.
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Are we going to keep this up all day?”
“Also no.”
I fume and I think I hear a glimmer of a chuckle in his voice.
“So what are you going to do, then? Punish me? That’s not always the answer, you know.”
“I know it isn’t,” he says evenly. “But sometimes it is, and to answer your question, I’m thinking on it.”
“Hardly room to climb over your lap,” I mutter.
“Oh, there’s plenty of room.”
“How do you know? You’ve done this before.” The thought of him taking another girl over his lap has me wanting to scream.
His eyes narrow. “I’ve studied every inch of you for fucking years,” he says. “I’ve imagined taking you over my knees so many times, I could orchestrate every move.” His fingers wrap around my wrist tighter. “How I’d tug you right over my knees.” His hand travels to my backside, and he gives me a firm squeeze. “How I’d punish you good and hard.”
He rests his large palm across my arse.
I shiver and try to pull away, but I find instead I’m pulling closer to him. Before I know what’s happening, I’m leaning in and kissing him, my lips brushing against his with unapologetic surrender. This man infuriates me, but this could be the last time we’re together.
“We have five hours and twenty-three minutes left to go,” I remind him. “I’m sure you can get a quickie in there.”
He kisses me so gently, I wonder at first if he heard me.
Don’t, my mind wars. Don’t stop.
I want to lose myself to him again, to surrender myself completely to everything and anything he does to me. But I have to be able to surface again. I have to be able to keep myself in check.