Love at First Flight (3 page)

Juliana buried her face in his soft
chest hair. She remembered that chest before the light dusting of golden blond
hair took up residence.

He tilted her chin up and brought his
lips down on hers.

His kiss was among the most familiar
things in her life—the way his tongue sought out hers to tease and entice until
she was drowning in him. He hooked his thumbs under the nightgown's spaghetti
straps to ease them down and filled his hands with her breasts. “So, so
beautiful.”

Juliana wrapped her arms around him,
trying to move him to where she wanted him most.

“Mmm, not yet,” he whispered.

“Jer... I want you.”

He teased her until her nipples were
hard and pulsing. “Don't you miss this, babe? Don't you miss being able to do
this any time we want?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “I miss it so much.”

He sucked hard on her nipple, and
Juliana cried out.

“Mmm, so hot. So sexy.” He kissed his
way to her belly and beyond. With his hands on her knees, he urged her to spread
her legs and settled between them.

Juliana quivered with desire.

Trailing a finger through her dampness,
he avoided the spot that throbbed for him.

“Jeremy...”

“What?” he asked in a teasing tone.

“Come on!”

“Are you in a rush?”

She moaned.

He replied by pushing two fingers into
her.

Gasping, she raised her hips to take him
deeper as her climax began to build.

He dipped his head and added his tongue.
After all the years they'd spent together, he knew just how to please her.

Her legs falling open in surrender to
his skillful tongue and fingers, the orgasm ripped through her with shattering
speed.

“I love that,” he whispered, shifting
over her. “I love the way you let go.”

Her body was still pulsating when he
buried himself in her. “Only for you.” She wrapped her arms around him and
brought him in for a kiss.

As their eyes met, she was filled with
contentment. Looking up to find him there, where he had been for so long, was
like coming home. But she saw sadness mixed with the desire and love in his
eyes. The sadness was new. Before she could process the discovery, he began to
move faster.

“Come with me, Jule,” he whispered in
her ear. “Come with me.”

Juliana closed her eyes and soared.

***

“I'm starving,” he muttered against her
chest a few minutes later. He gave her a quick kiss and rolled over to get up. “Join
me in the shower?”

She stretched and took in the glorious
sight of him prowling naked around the big room. “In a minute.”

“Don't be long.”

Juliana heard the shower go on just as
Jeremy's cell phone rang. Wondering why he had bothered to turn it back on and
who would be calling him so early on a Saturday, she reached for the phone on
the bedside table. “Hello?” Silence.

“Hello?” Juliana said again.

When there was still no answer, she
closed the phone to check the caller ID. “Jule! Come on.”

Juliana walked into the bathroom. “Jer?”
His hair full of shampoo, he pulled the curtain aside. “What?”

“Who's Sherrie?”

CHAPTER 3

PAIGE POUNCED THE MOMENT SHE AND MICHAEL
WERE in her champagne-colored Mercedes coupe.

“Whoa!”

She wrapped herself around him as best
she could in the tiny car. “Kiss me, Michael.”

Michael glanced at the people getting
into the car next to them. “Not here.”

“One kiss?” she pouted.

That pout rendered him defenseless, and
she knew it. He leaned in to kiss her and was hit by a surge of lust. The only
area of their relationship that never gave them any trouble was their ability
to fire each other up with just a touch, a look, or in this case, a kiss. When
her eager tongue wound around his, he groaned and tore himself away. “Hold on,
honey.”

Her hand landed in his lap. “If you
insist,” she said with a saucy smile.

He grabbed her hand just as it reached
its destination. “Paige! Stop!”

She flopped back into her seat. “What's
your
problem
, Michael? We haven't
seen each other in a month, for Christ's sake.”

“And whose fault is that?”

She started the car and backed out of
the parking space with only the briefest of glances behind her. “I've been busy
planning
your
wedding. I can't just come
up there any old time you want me to. Besides, the last time I was there you
were so busy with work I hardly saw you.”

“If you hadn't moved down here, we
wouldn't be having this discussion, now would we?”

Fuming, Paige handed a five-dollar bill
to the parking attendant. “Here we go,” she muttered.

Her two-carat diamond engagement ring
sparkled under the lights of the tollbooth. As it occurred to Michael yet again
that he would be paying for that ring for the next three years, he couldn't
help but wonder if the marriage would last that long. The thought startled him.
When exactly had he begun to have all these doubts?

They drove north on Interstate 95 in
silence.

After a while he reached for her hand
and was relieved to feel her fingers tighten around his.
That blew over faster than usual.
He truly loved Paige. She could
be so sweet and generous, but just as often she could be a spoiled brat. He was
seeing more and more of that side of her as they planned their wedding.
Unfortunately, his family had seen just enough of it to give them serious
reservations about his plans to marry her.

Resting his head back, he realized how
exhausted he was. The trial preparations were kicking his ass, and the idea of
spending the weekend with the Admiral, Mrs. Simpson, and two hundred of their
closest friends sucked what little energy he had right out of him. What he
really needed this weekend was sleep.

Paige took the exit for A1A on the way
to Amelia Island where she lived with her parents in a six-thousand-square-foot
home so sprawling they'd installed an intercom system so they could find each
other. Raised with three sisters in a six-room ranch house, Michael thought the
Simpson's home was obscene. Nearly everything about their lifestyle offended
him, but since he and Paige would be living far away from her parents after
they were married, he didn't care how they chose to live.

“I'm sorry,” Paige said softly. “I don't
want to fight this weekend.”

He kissed her hand. “Neither do I, but
I'm really fried, hon. The trial has me by the balls.”

“How's it going?”

That she bothered to ask told him she
was trying. “It's getting close. I've got to write my opening at some point
this weekend.”

“Not while you're here! We've got so much
to do. We're picking invitations and registering tomorrow before the party.
Then there's brunch on Sunday. You can't work!”

Michael took a deep breath. He never
should have agreed to this weekend, but it was too late now. “I'll fit it in.”

After a thirty-minute ride, they arrived
at the two-story taupe monstrosity surrounded by lush landscaping with artful
lighting hidden among the palm trees, crepe myrtles, and flowering hibiscus
bushes. The autumn evening air was thick with humidity and cricket music.
Michael steeled himself for his audience with the Admiral, who'd pulled some
strings to get Michael the job with the Baltimore City state's attorney and
never missed an opportunity to remind Michael he owed him one.

They were waiting in the spacious great
room when Michael and Paige came in through an elaborately tiled foyer the size
of his parents' entire house.

“Hello, Michael,” Eleanor Simpson said,
brushing a polite kiss over his cheek. As always, she looked as if she just
stepped out of the beauty parlor. The thought reminded Michael of Juliana.

“Mrs. Simpson, Admiral.” He extended a
hand to the imposing older man. When Admiral Simpson shook your hand, your hand
knew it.

“Good to see you, Michael,” the Admiral
said. “The flight was late, of course.”

“Bad weather,” Michael muttered.

“Can I get you something to eat?”
Eleanor asked.

“No, thank you. I'm good.” He was so
tired that the thought of eating made him sick.

“A drink then.” The Admiral walked over
to the bar to fix Michael a scotch on the rocks even though he preferred a
beer, and the Admiral knew it.

“Thank you, sir,” Michael said as he
accepted the drink. He had known the Admiral for four years and had never once
addressed him as anything other than Admiral or sir. Sometimes both.

“How's the trial shaping up?” the
Admiral asked.

“Everything's going well.”

“You look tired,” Eleanor said.

“He's beat,” Paige said, pouring a glass
of white wine.

The Admiral continued like they hadn't
spoken, which, in Michael's experience, was nothing new. “Got yourself an ace
in the hole with that little girl. Bet you're keeping a close eye on her.”

“Yes, she's in protective custody.”

“They'd sure love to get their hands on
her. No, you can't afford to lose her.”

“We're not going to.” Michael gritted
his teeth against the urge to scream.
Does
he honestly think I need to hear that right now?

“Daddy, don't bother him about the
trial. He needs a break.”

“You brought your tuxedo?” Eleanor
asked. “Yes, ma'am.”

“Well, Joseph, let's give these young
people some time alone.” She ushered her startled husband from the room. “We'll
see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight,” Paige and Michael said
together.

“Well, that was totally unexpected.”
Michael had been anticipating no less than an hour of small talk with the
Simpsons, with at least half of it devoted to a grilling about the trial.

“She could tell you didn't want to talk
about the trial, and he wasn't going to let it go.”

“Have I mentioned I love your mother?”

Paige laughed. “She has her moments.”
Glancing over at him, her cheeks flooded with color. “Can I kiss you
now
?” she asked in a small voice that
tugged at his heart.

“I wish you would.” He put his untouched
drink on the glass coffee table and reached for her.

The kiss was as hot and lush as the
Florida night. For four years she had bewitched him with her unique blend of
innocence and sensuality. She gave him all she had in every kiss, and after the
long weeks apart she was even more open and giving than usual.

“Let's go upstairs,” she whispered,
flicking her tongue over his ear.

He hated having sex in her parents'
house, but they'd done it before and would no doubt do it again. Taking her
hand, he followed her up the stairs to the guest suite over the garage,
comforted by the fact that her parents' room was almost a football field away
from them.

She locked the door and pulled her top
over her head. Her breasts were surprisingly full on her slight frame, and her
nipples puckered in the air-conditioned room.

As he watched her strip down to a thong,
Michael shed his suit coat and pulled off his tie. A tussle in the sheets with
her would take him from exhausted straight to downright depleted.

Unbuttoning his shirt, she buried her
fingers in his chest hair and swirled her tongue over his nipple.

Unable to resist her, he ran his hands
down her back and cupped her bare bottom.

Lifting her against his erection, he
drew a moan from her. “I love you so much, Michael.”

He had the wherewithal to grab a condom
from his bag before he carried her to the big bed with the lace canopy.

Urging him down beneath her, she said, “Let
me.” She rained kisses over his face and chest. “You're so tired. Let me love
you.”

He sucked in a sharp deep breath when
her white-blond hair brushed his belly.

She unbuckled his belt and slid his
pants and boxers down to the floor and then kissed her way back to where he
wanted her most.

He groaned when she stroked him first
with her hand and then with her mouth. Gasping, he reached for her.

“Not so fast.” She took him deep into
her mouth, all the while stroking him with her hand.

He groaned. “Paige,
please
...”

“Mmm, I've missed you so much,” she
sighed.

“You're going to finish me off before we
get to the good stuff.”

In a low sexy voice, she said, “Are you
saying this isn't good stuff?”

“No,” he panted. “Definitely not saying
that.”

Laughing, she took him to the edge of
insanity before she rolled on the condom and straddled him. Enveloping him in
her heat, she arched her back to ride him with abandon.