“Where are you going?” he asks.
“I need to sulk on this for at least two more hours,” I mutter dryly. “You’re not out of the dog house yet. Don’t dare come near me.”
“Okay.” He smiles as he leans up onto his elbow. “Then can you come back to bed so we can make up?”
I smirk, annoyed that he’s almost talked me around so quickly. “I’ll think about it.”
I walk into the bathroom. “I would suggest that you start watching those tutorials right now!” I call. “You better be fucking good in bed today. I want at least ten orgasms to make up for you being such an asshole.” I hear him chuckle. “Okay, I’m on it boss. I’ll give you fifteen.”
* * *
Nathan drives past the drop off bay at the airport. “What are you doing?” I ask.
“Parking the car.”
“You don’t need to come in.”
His eyes flicker to me in annoyance. “I’m coming in, Eliza.”
I roll my eyes.
“I’m just seeing my girlfriend off. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?” He grips the steering wheel with two hands. “It’s what a caring supporting boyfriend would do.”
Oh great, this won’t be awkward at all. I’m meeting Henry in the check-in area.
I can almost feel the tension already. I begin to perspire.
After spending the afternoon in bed, Nathan has well and truly delivered on his promise, and with jelly legs, I’m leaving for my conference. It’s a miracle I can even walk. The man is an animal, and I hate to say it, but make-up sex is highly, highly recommended.
He parks the car and gets my bag out of the trunk. He sat on the bed and watched me pack like a hawk-eye. He knows every damn thing there is in my case.
He takes my hand in his. “What check-in?”
“American Airlines.”
“Okay.” He glances at his watch. “We have time for a drink.”
“Um.” I frown. “I’m meeting Henry in the foyer.”
“Oh, really,” he says, deadpan. “So, you’ll be having a drink with him before the flight, will you?”
“Yes. And don’t start.” I widen my eyes to remind him of his manners.
He marches toward the terminal, dragging me along by the hand, and I know he is holding in his tantrum with all of his strength.
“You call me every night,” he says.
“Yes.”
“And mornings.”
“All right.”
“And don’t accept drinks from anyone. They could drug you.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s a medical conference, Nathan, not Ibiza or a strip club. I wonder if there are any men I can snort cocaine off, though.”
He fakes a smile as he drags me along. “Hilarious, you should do stand-up.” He mutters dryly.