All Messed Up: Windy City Kink, Book 2 (9 page)

“So why take hip hop classes now? Why not go back to ballet?”

“I don’t know. Ballet doesn’t seem very practical. It’s not like I’m going to be a professional ballerina.” Also it brought back memories of high school she’d rather forget. “Hip hop is just for fun. And I can do it with my friend.”

“Oh yeah…what was her name?”

“Paige.”

“Have you known her long? Or just since you moved to Chicago?”

“Just since I moved there. She’s new to Chicago too.”

“Eh. I guess my two best buddies outside of work are Kevin and Beamer.”

“Beamer?”

“His name is Brock Montgomery Woolton.”

“Holy crap.”

He laughed. “I know, right? Family’s filthy rich. You’d never know it though. He looks like Rupert Grint with horn-rimmed glasses. His initials are BMW so we’ve called him Beamer forever. He’s a doctor, except he doesn’t practice medicine, he does high-level research, and Kevin’s an architect. We’ve known each other since college. I hang out with some of the guys at work sometimes too. It’s good to have someone who gets the job to debrief with when things are stressful.”

She shifted and studied him. “Stressful as in dangerous?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes. Sometimes it’s just stressful seeing the crap that goes on in the world.”

“Yeah, I guess it is important to have people to talk to about that.”

“Like you have Paige to talk about work with.” He eyed her. “Have you talked to her about being so stressed?”

Mallory edged back into her seat at mention of her job. “A little.”

“Tell me more about what you do.”

“I’m responsible for the oversight and creation of strategic plans and P-and-Ls—I mean, profit and losses—for my division, and I oversee the marketing plans for the therapeutic brands that fall in my division. We develop direct advertising campaigns and promotional activities, and keep an eye on our competitors to see what they’re doing. We monitor the marketing plans and measure how effective our strategies are to make sure we’re meeting our objectives and improving the competitive position of our products in the market. Basically, I lead and coach the whole marketing team.”

“What did you study in college?”

“I have an MBA.”

“Smart girl.”

She smiled. “Yes, I am.”

“I’m picturing you in business suits and sensible heels giving PowerPoint presentations.”

She choked on a laugh. “Well, um, yeah, that would be pretty accurate.”

He leaned in to nuzzle her hair. “I prefer you messed up and naked.”

Lust did a little flip in her belly. “Really. And here I am imagining you in your police uniform…I’m thinking all black, with bulletproof vest and carrying a big…gun.”

“That turns you on?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Damn.” He brushed his lips over her cheek. “And here I am with only my civvies.”

Her eyes drifted closed as he kissed her cheek, her jaw, then rubbed his face gently against hers. Shivers cascaded down her spine.

His hand came to rest on her thigh, and with a soft sigh, she turned her face toward him so their mouths met. And she got lost in the kiss at thirty-two thousand feet. Long moments later they drew apart, their breathing choppy. Their eyes met.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he whispered.

Her eyes widened and she shook her head.

“Mile high club.” He lifted an eyebrow.

She giggled and swatted his chest. “As if!”

He grinned, dimples appearing in his stubbled cheeks. “I think we could sneak into one of those washrooms without the flight attendant noticing.”

“Right.”

He sighed. “Damn. And here I thought you were adventurous.”

Her heart skipped a beat and excitement slinked through her. “Don’t do that to me,” she begged.

His expression innocent, he said, “Do what?”

“You know damn well what.” She closed her eyes against the gleam of challenge in his. “Seriously. We can’t do that.”

He leaned in to kiss her cheek again. “You know you want to.”

She wanted him. And…yeah. The idea of doing something so illicit sent her pulse into a frenzy. What was wrong with her? There was something about this man that was like lighter fluid tossed onto the smoldering remnants of fiery wildness inside her, bringing it flaming back to dangerous life. This had to stop. There was no way she was going to try to sneak into one of those tiny bathrooms.

“They’re really not sexy at all,” she murmured. “Cramped and kind of smelly…and you’re a big guy.”

His mouth pursed. “Yeah. That’s true. Okay, we’ll do it here.”

“What!” Her head whipped around wildly, checking out the whereabouts of the flight crew and the people across the aisle from them.

He reached for the blanket tucked under his arm that he’d accepted from the flight attendant earlier and shook it out. “This worked fine in the airport.”

“We can’t!” Her insides tightened. “We…we have to keep our seatbelts on.”

He sighed. “Okay. Fine.”

She licked her lips. “We could…make out.”

“And torture ourselves because that’s all we can do? Okay. I’m in.” He tossed the blanket over them. The armrest between them was already up. Even with seatbelts on, they managed to snuggle up to each other and then his hand was on her breast, gently squeezing, and his mouth was on hers in a slow, sexy kiss.

The kiss went on…and on…deeper…wetter. He licked into her mouth, his tongue strong and sleek. She sucked on it, bit his bottom lip so gently, kissed the corners of his mouth. Her nipples pinched into hard points that he toyed with beneath her sweater, her breasts heavy and aching. And heat and pressure grew in her pelvis until it was almost unbearable.

“Okay,” she gasped. “I’m ready to try that bathroom.”

He leaned his forehead against hers, fighting for breath. “Holy hotness, Mallory. You make me crazy.”

He turned and glanced to the back of the plane then faced her again. “They’re way back there. You go first. I’ll wait a few minutes. When I knock once, let me in.”

“Oh God.” Her stomach clenched. “What if they catch us? Will they arrest us?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You’re a police officer! If you get arrested, isn’t that…bad?”

“They won’t arrest us. Go.”

With shaky hands, she unfastened her seatbelt and climbed over Joe into the aisle. She carefully didn’t look at him as she entered the lavatory. She clicked the lock on the door and sat on the closed toilet seat, waiting.

Chapter Nine

Joe sat and waited, his body tight, nerves electrified. He shifted in his seat, the fly of his jeans pressing uncomfortably into his dick. The plane shuddered through an air pocket. He rose to his feet and glanced at the people across the aisle. Eyes closed. Good.

He tapped on the door and heard the sharp click of the lock sliding open. He opened the door, stepped inside and quickly shut the door behind him. “The other people in the first row are sleeping,” he said. “I don’t think they noticed anything.”

“Quick. Make this quick. I’m dying.” She began to undo her pants.

“I’m dying, as in ‘I need you, baby’, or ‘I’m dying of fear we’ll get caught’?” He unzipped his jeans.

“Both! Hurry!”

He pulled out his swollen cock and she paused to stare at it then reached to touch. Male pride swelled inside him at the look of wonder on her face. Damn! She really loved his dick. He groaned and yanked her pants down, then shoved aside her panties and thrust his fingers into her pussy. “Hell, Mal. You’re drenched.”

“God, I know. I could feel it when we were making out, my panties are soaked. Okay, how do we do this?”

There wasn’t much room to maneuver.

“Uh…” He eyed the small sink and shook his head. “Turn around. Put your hands on the wall.”

She kicked one foot free of her pants so she could spread her legs wider and did as he said, their bodies bumping together in the small space. The plane hit another few bumps and it matched the uneven rhythm of his heart and the blood pulsing hotly in his groin.

He gripped the base of his shaft and slid the head through the wet folds of her pussy. She arched her back and thrust her butt back at him. “Beautiful,” he murmured and couldn’t resist laying a sharp little tap on one firm cheek. “That’s it, baby.” He found her entrance and pushed inside.

“I can’t believe this,” she moaned.

“I know.” He bent his knees, slipped a hand around her and drove up high inside her. She pressed her mouth against her arm to muffle the noises escaping her. One hand flat on her belly, the other delved lower and found her clit. This wasn’t exactly pretty, but it was hot as hell. He pumped into her, balls smacking her, flesh slapping, and she pushed back with every stroke, impatient and greedy.

He fingered her clit and the tempo of the soft noises in her throat increased. “Yes, yes, yes,” she whimpered. “Do it. Fuck me. Harder.”

Driving hard, his balls contracted. Tingles zoomed up his spine then back down, excitement pounding through him. He was so close, but damn, she needed to come. He flicked over her clit and then she came apart, shuddering through a series of spasms that gripped his cock. His bare cock. Dreadful realization crashed through him at the same time his orgasm became unstoppable and he was spurting before he could pull out. But he did manage to jerk back, falling against the door with a thud. Semen jetted out of him and onto Mallory’s lower back and the floor.

He gasped, his lungs burning, every nerve electrified. She stayed where she was, hands against the wall, her head hanging, her narrow rib cage expanding and contracting with each shallow breath she took.

“Okay,” she whispered. “We did it. Now we need to get out of here.”

Fucking insane. They were both fucking insane. He managed to stagger upright and grab some paper towels. He ran some water over them, first gently wiped off Mallory’s smooth skin, then bent and swiped the floor. She managed to get her pants pulled up, but was still fumbling with the zipper and fastener and belt. He tucked himself back in and zipped up.

“I’ll go out first,” he said and kissed her mouth. “Wait a few minutes again.” Hopefully there was no one waiting for the bathroom. He cracked open the door and peered out. Nobody, thank God.

He slipped out and dropped back into his seat, muscles still lax and quivering. He dropped his head into one hand and focused on breathing. Jesus.

Mallory slipped into her seat moments later. She looked at him. When their eyes met and he saw the way hers glinted and the smirk on her lips, they both burst out laughing, leaning into each other. “I can’t believe we did that,” Mallory gasped.

“Believe it, babe.”

They sat holding each other and shaking with laughter for a moment, but then he sobered. “I did it again,” he said near her ear. “Forgot the condom. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” She let out a shuddery breath, face pressed against him. “We keep taking crazy chances, don’t we?”

“Yep.”

“I am on the pill,” she whispered. “I didn’t say that earlier, when I said I’m good, but I meant that, and that I don’t have anything you need to be worried about.”

“Okay, birth control is good. And Mallory, me too, I swear, I always use protection. I don’t know what happened to my head. I can show you test results if you want.”

“Right now?” He felt her smile against his chest.

“No. Back in Chicago.”

She went very still against him and then pulled back to sit fully in her seat. “We need to talk about that.”

The hairs on the back of his neck stirred. “About my test results?”

“No. About back in Chicago.” Her eyes met him, all the laughter now vanished. “We aren’t going to see each other back in Chicago.”

His insides went cold and tight. She was right. He knew that. This was some kind of crazy travel fling. He tried to smile but it didn’t quite work. He tried harder. “I just meant, if you want to see the test results in black and white, that’s where it’ll have to be.”

“Right.” She nodded quickly. “I…” Her gaze skittered sideways and then back. “I trust you, Joe. And…I don’t even know your last name.”

Holy fuck. And he didn’t know hers. He felt like the top of his head might pop off. “Not to be a dickhead or anything, but maybe we should share that information…just in case. And I have your number, but let me give you mine. Joe Mason. I’ll put my number in your phone when we land and we can turn them on.”

“Mallory Hurst.”

He kept the smile glued in place. “Nice name.”

“You too.”

Something had slipped between them, an invisible barrier, a thin curtain of tension that hadn’t been there before. Her face had gone stiff even though she too smiled. She glanced at her watch. “I think I’ll read for a while. Still about forty minutes until we land.” She bent and pulled a device from her purse.

He wasn’t much of a reader. Magazines mostly. He pulled the airline magazine from the pouch on the wall in front of him and began to flip through it. He couldn’t help but glance at Mallory, head bent, shiny hair curving forward over her cheek, legs crossed.

His insides cramped a little. Shit. He had to talk himself out of this mood, whatever it was. He should be thinking about the stories he was going to tell Kevin and Beamer the next time they got together for poker, about the hot chick he’d picked up in the airport, taken back to his hotel room and banged her brains out. How they’d joined the mile high club. He should be feeling all triumphant, conquering male.

Whatever.

He’d already read this magazine. Crap. He kept flipping the pages without really seeing anything.

He should also be thinking about his plan for when he got to Los Angeles. The idea for this trip had been a spur of the moment thing, crazy and not well thought out. He’d been a little fucked up in the head, not really thinking straight. Apparently it was still affecting him—Christ! Sex in the airplane lavatory! Who did that?

Once again he tried to redirect his thoughts. His father in Los Angeles. What was he going to say when he saw him?

Aw, fuck it, he was just gonna to wing it, because thinking about that scared the shit out of him.

He’d rather think about Mallory.

The rest of the flight passed with mostly silence between them. Once they’d been given the okay to turn on electronics, he reminded Mallory that he wanted to give her his number and she pulled out her cell phone. Her obvious reluctance irked him.

“It’s just in case,” he said a little shortly. “I know you’re on birth control, but accidents can happen, and you need to be able to reach me.” He gave her his number and she entered it into her contacts.

“I’m not pregnant.”

“Probably not,” he agreed. “But I’d hate to think that if it somehow happened, I’d have a kid in the world that I didn’t even know about…” His throat squeezed suddenly, painfully shut. He couldn’t talk. Mallory looked at him.

Heat washed up into his face. He tried to swallow the golf ball lodged in his throat. He coughed. “I’m just saying,” he managed to choke out. “If it happens—you call me. Right?”

She blinked. “Um. Right. But it’s not going to.”

He gritted his teeth. “Like I said, probably not.”

The plane was slowing now, almost at the terminal, and then came to a halt. The sound of seatbelts clicking open filled the air and people surged into the aisle. Joe unfastened his own and rose to pull Mallory’s carry-on out for her. Her thank you and smile were carefully polite.

It took several more minutes before they could deplane, but soon they were entering the terminal. He still pulled her suitcase for her down the long concourse, then down the escalator to the baggage claim area.

“There are my parents,” Mallory murmured about halfway down the escalator. She waved vigorously. Joe found the couple who spotted her and waved in return, the man and woman both tall and slender, and…whoa. Her dad wore a dark shirt, and the center of the buttoned-up collar was white. A clergy collar… He glanced at Mallory. “Your dad’s a minister?”

“Yes.” She shot him a wry smile.

Once off the escalator, she and her parents found each other and exchanged big hugs. Joe stood there awkwardly, still with Mallory’s bag.

“You’re finally here!” her mother said. She had Mallory’s bone structure and smile, her dark blonde hair cut in a short, tousled style. “What on earth happened? What did you do last night?”

“Give her a minute, Donna.” Her dad smiled and pulled Mallory in for a hug too. “You look a little tired, honey.”

She grimaced. “Long trip.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“But you made it!” her mom said. “And it’s so good to see you.”

Joe cleared his throat. “Here’s your suitcase, Mallory.”

She turned to him and a wash of hot pink flooded her cheeks. “Oh. Thank you.” They faced each other, tension vibrating between them. She didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Thanks. For everything. You know.” She didn’t even try to introduce him, made no move toward him for a hug, a kiss on the cheek or even a handshake.

With a stone in his gut, he flashed a smile and nodded. “No problem. Have a good trip.”

He moved away, toward the baggage carousel. His legs felt stiff. Why the hell was it so hard to leave her?

The conveyor belt started to move and people crowded in closer to the carousel. Joe found a spot and started watching for his bag. But his gaze kept drifting back to Mallory standing on the other side with her parents, talking to them. When their gazes collided, he felt it like a fist to his gut. They both looked away.

She could have at least introduced him to her parents.

No, she couldn’t have. What would she have said? And it didn’t matter anyway.

His bag rode the belt toward him, and he grabbed it and hauled it off. He forced himself not to look back at Mallory as he swung his backpack over his shoulder and headed toward the exit.

He stood outside on the sidewalk, the warm humid air brushing over him. Horns honked and engines roared and echoed off concrete. For a moment, he felt a weird sense of not really being there, of standing apart from the bustling activity going on all around him, people pushing past him, cars and buses and limos driving by. An emptiness expanded inside him.

Fucking weird. He gave his head a shake. He needed to rent a car so he had to find a shuttle to the Budget lot. Or whatever bus showed up first.

Mallory tried to focus on what her parents were saying, tried to answer their questions, but she was completely distracted, remembering Joe and the smile he’d flashed and how he’d walked away without a backward glance. Until she’d caught his eye while they stood beside the luggage carousel, caught him staring at her, and heat had flashed under her skin.

“Who was that?” Dad asked, taking the small carry-on Joe had released.

She swallowed. “He sat beside me on the plane. He helped with my carry-on.”

“So what on earth happened yesterday in Denver?” Mom asked.

Oh God. A lot had happened in Denver yesterday. Mallory’s chest tightened. She lifted her chin and smiled at her mom and explained about the storm and the de-icing equipment not being ready and all the waiting.

“What a nightmare!” Mom said.

“It was okay,” Mallory said. “I got a hotel room, and here I am.”

Joe had taken his suitcase and was walking out of the terminal. Every muscle in her body urged her to run after him, and she stared at his back with a hollow feeling expanding in her chest.

Wow. She’d really screwed up. She should have known she would regret doing that. But how could she have known she’d feel this crappy about them going their separate ways once they’d reached their destination? And
why
did she feel so crappy? She’d known the guy a little over twenty-four hours and how could you really know someone in that short a time? You couldn’t.

She was just coming down off the adrenaline rush of doing something so wild and spontaneous and dirty, all those things she’d locked away so long ago. Now she had real life to contend with, real problems, and her parents standing in front of her casting her slightly worried glances.

“Let’s get you home,” Mom said. “Looks like you could use a nap.”

She nodded. “Yeah. That would be really good.”

She hadn’t been sleeping well for months, so she couldn’t really blame only a few hours of sleep last night on the fact that she was bone-deep exhausted. But after the sensations Joe had aroused in her, she realized how dead and empty she felt now, and had felt even before she’d left Chicago. Tension crept across her shoulder muscles and up the back of her neck, which she recognized as the beginning of a killer headache. Chronic headaches that she hadn’t even realized had disappeared for a while when she’d been with Joe. She hadn’t realized the pain had been gone until it started to return. As did the too-familiar tightening of her stomach.