Runaway Vegas Bride (10 page)

Jane let the note fall from her hand, simply unable to hold on to it any longer.

Beside her, Wyatt just said, “No, no way! He’s not crazy. Irritating and infuriating, but not crazy.”

“He’s eloping with two women?” Jane fumed. “How does any sane man elope with two women? What does he
think he’s going to do? Make up his mind when they get there, and both women will put up with that? Give him whichever one he wants?”

“I don’t know,” Wyatt admitted. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Or maybe he’s just going to marry them both!” Jane theorized, horrified. “Maybe he thinks he can get away with bigamy, too.”

Wyatt actually looked hopeful at that.

“What could possibly be good about a man committing bigamy?” she countered.

“It would invalidate both marriages,” Wyatt said, shrugging apologetically. “We wouldn’t have to worry about the prenup thing.”

“Oh, well, I suppose that’s one good thing.” And then she got mad all over again. “Wyatt, he’s going to break their hearts! He thinks he can have both of them, and he’s bound to break their hearts. We have to stop him!”

“I know, Jane. I’m so sorry. I’ve already called my travel agent. I got us two seats on the last plane out tonight to Vegas, but we have to get to the airport right now.”

They made it.

Barely.

No luggage or anything, but they made the plane, settling into two seats in the very last row of first class only moments before the plane backed out of the gate.

Jane hadn’t done anything so impulsive as flying off to Vegas at the drop of a hat in years, and she hated to admit it—given the fact that Gram and Gladdy were going to get their hearts broken—but she was a little excited about the whole crazy trip.

And to be making it with Wyatt. He really was a very nice man, even if his uncle was a troublesome, potentially crazy womanizer. She actually wished she had hit the old man with her briefcase now. But none of that was Wyatt’s fault. She’d been looking forward to their date tonight, but she supposed a lunatic, last-minute trip to Vegas together was even better.

Date
, she remembered. Something about the date, she was forgetting.

What? And then she got it.

Oops
.

“What’s wrong?” Wyatt asked.

“I just remembered. I’m not wearing any panties.”

W
yatt was certain he could not have possibly heard her right.

Jane with no panties?

“What?” he repeated.

She leaned over to him this time, whispering urgently. “I’m not wearing any panties.”

He looked down at her hot-pink suit, the color that had him thinking of tropical islands, the blazing sun, gleaming tanned skin and Jane. She came alive completely in that color.

And if that weren’t bad enough, from the moment he’d opened the door to her apartment and seen her there, he’d been trying to figure out exactly what kind of top she was wearing.

Because it looked like underwear.

The cropped jacket of her hot-pink suit, buttoned with
two buttons at the bottom and open in a wide, deep V-neck to show off…Well, it really looked like underwear.

A lady’s camisole was underwear, wasn’t it?

Silky and lacy and one of those tricky fabrics that was part white flowers and part…sheer. A really unfair trick that had him thinking what he was seeing was, for all intents and purposes, bare skin. But he couldn’t be sure. Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t.

It was just enough to drive him crazy.

Especially seeing it on Jane.

Buttoned-up-to-here Jane.

And now she claimed that under that pencil-slim, hot-pink skirt that stopped a couple of lovely inches above her lovely knees, she wasn’t wearing any panties?

He stared at her waist, her hips, as if he could see through the fabric and find the answer. She’d turned in her seat, angling her body toward his, and the skirt was riding up even higher on the outside of her right thigh, but not nearly high enough for him to see how far up was pure skin and how far he might find the proof that she was lying.

Surely she was lying. This was Jane, after all.

“This isn’t funny, Jane,” he said, feeling hot and dizzy all of a sudden, seeing nothing but her, her legs and that gloriously sexy hot-pink skirt.

“I’m not trying to be funny. I was ready for our date. I was really excited about our date, and right before I left your office yesterday, you said to wear one of my suits without any—”

“Good God, I never thought you’d actually do it!” he yelled.

Passengers in the rows in front of them turned to stare. The first-class flight attendant, who’d been openly flirting
with Wyatt as they got on the plane, despite the fact that he was traveling with Jane, now shot him a worried look, as if he might be trouble on this flight.

Jane leaned into him. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, you certainly did,” he said, none too quietly.

“I thought you’d like it,” she said, pouting a bit.

“Like it?” He laughed, sounding as if he was being strangled, all the blood leaving his head and heading south, leaving him decidedly uncomfortable. He shifted in his seat. No help there.

Did she have any idea what she was doing to him?

“I was trying to be…you know…non-prudish,” she explained.

“Well, you succeeded.”

“I thought you’d be happy—” she repeated.

“Jane, I’d love it, if only I could do something about it,” he told her. “But it’s a four-hour flight! You’re telling me I have four hours to sit here next to you, knowing you’re completely bare under that tiny hot-pink skirt and not do anything about it?”

“Oh,” she said. “Well, I didn’t mean to end up this way on the plane. It was just, with all the commotion over Gram and Gladdy being missing and finding out they’d both eloped with your uncle, I wasn’t really thinking about my underwear or lack of it. Until right now.”

Wyatt buried his face in his hand, then opened his eyes and stared at her legs again. Couldn’t help it.

Jane had really nice legs, toned and lightly tanned.

He looked around at exactly where they were on the plane. It was small. In each row, there were two first-class seats on either side of a single aisle. No one was in the seats directly across from them, and the wall of the first-class
cabin was behind them. There were two people in the row in front of them, on the opposite side of the aisle, and Wyatt had taken the aisle seat. If he angled his body the right way…

“What are you doing?” Jane asked suspiciously.

“Just taking stock of the situation we’re in, of the options….”

“Options?” She looked aghast. “I want you to know right now that I am not doing anything with you in the lavatory of this airplane. So you can forget that—”

“I didn’t ask you to. I wouldn’t. I have trouble believing it’s even possible myself. I can hardly get my whole body into one of those things, as small as they are these days, although I know people who swear it can be done. Still, it’s just not my thing, to do it in an ultra-cramped airplane bathroom. Of course, I’ve never been on a plane for four hours with a woman with no panties on before.”

“You sound so mad at me—”

“Jane, I think I’m going to lose my mind before we ever get off this plane. I’m starting to sweat, and we haven’t even taken off yet. Because all I can think about is you…sitting there…and how much I want my hand under your skirt.”

She pressed her thighs together as if he’d have a fight on his hands if he tried that.

“I know. Believe me, I know.”

“Surely you’re capable of showing some kind of restraint. You’re a grown man, Wyatt—”

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve undressed you in my head?”

She fell silent, looking a bit scared of him, as if he might turn into a raving, sexual beast at any moment and devour her.

“Yeah,” he said. Maybe she was beginning to under
stand the problem now. “I’ve done it slowly. I’ve done it in seconds flat. I’ve taken suits of every color off you, unbuttoned crisp, prim, white blouses with excruciating attention to detail to every bit of skin I uncover. I’ve ripped buttons away with my teeth, Jane!”

She eased away from him, as far as the side of the airplane would allow, and just stared up at him with wary eyes. “Men don’t do those kinds of things to me.”

“This man is going to.”

“Not here!” she whispered urgently.

“Four hours,” he replied. “It’s a four-hour flight. I really don’t think you understand the urgency of my situation.”

“How spoiled are you? You can’t wait four hours for a woman?”

Wyatt saw that she still just didn’t get it. Did that mean she hadn’t even thought of him undressing her seventeen different ways, including with his teeth? Was she completely oblivious to him and this crazy attraction he felt for her?

Maybe all the Gray men had gone crazy at the same time.

Wyatt had an idea.

Jane watched him warily as an odd sense of calm came over him and he stopped arguing with her. His sudden silence, his seeming acceptance of the situation, made her all the more uneasy. But he just sat there, like a man perfectly at ease, big and gorgeous and sexy, taking up way more room than he should have in the seat beside her. He sat there as the plane took off and climbed into the air, wordlessly downing two bourbons during the beverage service, sat there as the captain dimmed the lights and people quieted down and settled in to get some sleep.

Which made Jane feel a little uneasy.

It was darker than she thought it should be, more private here in the last row of the first-class cabin, the curtains behind them drawn shut, the flight attendants settled in, too, up front, no one in the seats immediately to their left.

She clicked on her overhead light.

Wyatt laughed softly, reached across her and clicked it off.

Jane put her hands up to ward him off, but he didn’t do anything else, just sat back in his seat, waiting.

For what?

Nervously, she scanned the cabin again, finding it even quieter now, soft voices heard here and there, but muffled, more like the impression of sound than sound itself, the hiss of the plane’s ventilation system leaving a kind of white noise around them that enveloped them in a kind of privacy.

So, it was dark and quiet.

That was bad, Jane feared. Very bad.

The truth was, she had put this suit on thinking about him looking at her in it, looking at her as if he was going to devour her whole, which is exactly how he’d looked at her when he found out the secret to this outfit. She’d had vague thoughts about him undressing her very slowly, very carefully, almost politely, although she had known even then that the polite part was definitely more her fantasy than anything he’d ever come up with. And she’d been right about that. He had fantasized about ripping off buttons with his teeth, after all.

So Jane sat there, huddled into her corner, watching him, getting all warm and sleepy and wondering if, given his mood earlier, using him as a big comfy pillow on the way to Vegas was out of the question. She found herself nodding off a bit, her head sinking down to the side of the plane, then jerking awake again.

He stood up, got an airline pillow and blanket out of the overhead bin, then sat back down beside her. He pushed the armrest between them up and out of the way, then put the pillow against his side. His arm around her, he invited her to make herself comfortable against him.

She turned her body toward the window, away from him, bent her legs and tucked them half under her on the seat, then leaned back into him, her head on his shoulder. He might nibble on her ear, if he wanted, but she felt fairly safe in this position.

He didn’t object at all, merely spread the blanket over her, as she murmured, “Thank you.”

Just drifting off to sleep, she felt his hand, under that blanket, palming her leg at the knee and then slowly sliding up her thigh.

Her eyes flew open and locked on his. She felt in an instant that he’d angled his body toward the window. She glanced anxiously toward the aisle and found her view blocked completely by his shoulder. No doubt, his body was now blocking anyone’s view of her.

Which was bad.

Very bad.

And in that time she’d nearly fallen asleep, she’d somehow ended up with her back pressed against the front of his body, her bottom tucked firmly against his lap, and he obviously liked it there, because he was thoroughly aroused.

It was a completely involuntary reaction, she reasoned, as she rubbed her hips against him, and it just felt so very good, she had to do it again. She couldn’t help it.

He swore softly and started nibbling on her neck, making her squirm all the more, sensations shooting through her body. That hand of his, beneath the blanket
he’d so thoughtfully spread over her, sliding even higher on her thigh. His other hand undid the two buttons on her jacket, then settled warm against her belly, eventually sliding up toward her breasts.

He took his nose and nudged her jacket down her shoulder a bit, used his teeth to pull the tiny strap of her camisole aside, and the next thing she knew, his warm mouth settled on her neck, dropping little kisses up and down the line of her neck and shoulder.

She sucked in a breath, his hands all over her, his mouth too, her body tucked firmly against his and turning liquid in his arms.

“Wyatt, we’re on a plane,” she protested.

“I know.”

“And you said you really weren’t into doing things like this in public places.”

“I said I wasn’t into actually having sex in public places. But since you got on this plane that way, I’ve decided that’s not really a firm conviction of mine.”

Before she could object, his hand settled, palm flat, against the curve of her hip.

Her breasts got all tingly and full, her nipples bunching up to knots. His hand finally palmed one of her breasts, as well, his thumb rubbing back and forth on one of her nipples.

His hand felt so big and so hot against her, and the camisole was so thin, it was practically nonexistent. His hands were everywhere. So was his mouth.

“Someone will hear us,” she protested.

“Only if you get too loud,” he claimed. “I didn’t take you for a screamer, Jane. Although I’d certainly like to make you scream. Just not here. Not now. Later, okay?”

“Mmm. Okay. Later.”

He kissed her neck some more. Lord, she loved it when he kissed her neck. It just made her melt all over, all hot and shivery and boneless with pleasure. He got his hand under her camisole and back on her breast, skin to skin. She rubbed her bottom against him, feeling a pulse throbbing in him, an answering one in her own body.

Could they really have sex on the plane? Would it be that bad? That dangerous? She could shove a pillow in her mouth and just try very hard to move as little as possible, couldn’t she?

She wanted to turn around, wanted so badly to touch him, to feel his skin beneath her hands, but he held her fast. She reached back with one hand and held his head down to her shoulder, and with the other, covered his hand on her breast, urging him not to stop tormenting her this way.

Wyatt touching her, kissing her. It felt so good. He was going to drive her crazy. She knew it. But just how far was he going to take this?

“Wyatt?” she whispered urgently. “What are you going to do to me?”

“This,” he said, his mouth against her ear, nibbling there as the hand on her hip slid into the curls between her thighs.

She shook her head. “No. You can’t. Not here.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because…you can’t.”

But even as she said it, her traitorous body had made room for him there, easing her thighs ever so slightly apart. She shuddered as his fingers moved knowingly into the hot wetness of her body, and his thumb…oh, that thumb.

If he hadn’t covered her mouth with his, no telling what kind of noise she would have made then. But he’d antici
pated that, silencing her with a long, deep, slow kiss, his touch between her legs just as maddeningly slow and sure.

He thrust inside of her with his tongue, with his fingers, and it took nothing and no time, it seemed before she shuddered against him, having to bite down on her lip to keep from crying out in pleasure, the kind of deep, uncontrollable feelings she hadn’t been sure she was capable of feeling.

There was no control at all on her part, nothing she was capable of or willing to do to stop this, to hold it back, to contain it in any way. He was completely in charge. She’d given herself fully into his hands, and he was obviously a master at this. Oddly, she felt both out of control and completely safe in his arms, felt no need to protect herself, to maintain any kind of distance. She was his. She might as well have stripped off all her clothes and presented herself to him naked as could be and invited him to do whatever he wanted. She’d given herself to him that completely. Something she’d never felt safe doing with any man, especially one who looked like him, who had the confidence and obvious experience with women that he did.