“Run away with you?”
“That came out wrong. Actually, no. It came out right. My father had a heart attack a few weeks ago and didn’t tell me. So I want to go home, and was kind of hoping you would go with me…if you want.”
“When did you find out? About your father, I mean.”
“The same day Molly passed. A lot of things happened. If you don’t want to go, it’s fine. I just thought I would offer, but you have work—”
“I’ll go,” he said, squeezing my hand. “Let’s run away to Cypress.”
Chapter Twenty
Cypress, Alaska Welcomes You
Eli
I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I was sure no one else could, either. She held on to the arm of the chair like a cat held on to a shower curtain, her eyes closed shut. The plane shook again and she bit her bottom lip, taking deep breaths.
“You don’t fly home often?”
“I drive.”
“You drive from New York to Alaska?” She had to be kidding me.
She nodded. “It’s not that bad. It takes about three, almost four days, and I stop to take pictures of scenery and whatnot.” The plane shook again, and she looked like she was going to cry.
I need to calm her down, I thought, placing my hand over hers. Only then did she open her eyes for the first time since we had taken off. She hadn’t been that bad on the first plane—the ride was so smooth she went to sleep—but since this was a much smaller one, she could now feel every bump through the clouds. “Why is your acrophobia this bad?” Talking often helped.
“When I was eight, my father and brother went hiking up the mountain trail. I was angry they'd left me behind, and even more upset that they thought I couldn’t do it. So I packed my bag with Skittles—the purple kind, two water bottles, my flashlight, tissues, and a compass. I figured I was only about an hour behind them, and left while my mother was finishing up some work. I felt so proud of myself as I walked through the woods alone. I wasn’t scared of anything in the day. I was halfway up the trail when the sun went down, and then I started to panic because I couldn’t find my dad, and wandered off the trail. Long story short, I was lost up there for seven hours, staring down at all of Cypress, petrified I would slip off and no one would ever find me. So, heights make me think I’m on top of the mountain again.”
“So let’s think of some other place else to be in your head.” Leaning over to her, I brushed her hair back and whispered into her ear, “You aren’t on top of a mountain. You're with me, in bed—”
“Naked?” Her eyebrow rose.
“Not yet,” I said softly. “I slowly unbutton your shirt, kissing from your neck down between your breasts. At my touch your nipples are hard, and when I take them between my teeth, you moan so loudly our neighbors are jealous. You clench your legs closed and I don’t know why, baby, because you want me to touch you there…kiss you there…lick every inch of you. Don’t you?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“I can hear you now. You’re screaming my name, ‘Eli…Eli,’ and God almighty, Guinevere, you taste so good I don’t ever want to stop. I could spend hours between your legs, just teasing you…tasting all of you. I love how wet you are for me, baby, how your body trembles at my fingertips. You think I control you? With every moan, I am at your mercy. You would not believe the things I want to do to you, your body. It makes me so hard it pains me. Please, let me have you. Let me fuck you 'til you can’t see straight any more, Guinevere.”
She gasped. “Please.”
“Your body is mine tonight?” Every night.
“Yes.”
“And so I spread your legs, slowly filling you… Fuck,” I moaned in her ear. “Jesus, baby, you are so tight.”
“Eli.” She bit back a moan.
“Gripping your waist, I’m not stopping until I can count on both hands how many times you come for me. I moan at the sight of you biting your finger and grabbing your own breast…goddamn, you are beautiful. It drives me insane when you look at me with those big, beautiful brown eyes of yours. You come, screaming my name, and it’s still not enough. Why do you torture me like this, Guinevere? How is it possible I want you even more? With every thrust deeper and harder inside you, I want you more. God, and that sound, you’re moaning, I’m moaning, the bed is shaking under us, slamming against my wall. Can you hear it? When I kiss your lips and you grab my hair, moving along with each fuck, I lose control. Your lips, your tongue: that is what real ecstasy tastes like. Ramming myself in again, and again, and again, until you cry out, your nails working their way down my back—”
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking.”
“No,” she cried desperately, her eyes fully open, her hands still gripping the seat, but for a whole different reason.