The Dealmaker (Sex & Bonds 1)

My parents gave up so much so I could have the opportunities they never did. I’ve worked hard to repay them. But at what point do I allow myself to put my own wants and my own life first?

I don’t know the answer. But I do know my heart skips a beat when Nora walks into the room. I do know I want to dropkick every guy who checks her out as we make our way through Santa Barbara’s tiny airport on Sunday morning.

“Why do you keep looking at everyone like that?” Nora asks as she lines up beside the GROUPS 2-5 sign.

I nudge her into the GROUP 1 line. “Like what?”

“Like Jacob looked at Edward.”

“Edward wanted to drink Jacob’s girl’s blood and imperil her mortal soul,” I reply with a grin. “Wouldn’t you be pissed if you were him?”

She’s biting her lip, brown eyes soft. “How’d I know you’d get the Twilight reference?”

“We have a Twilight marathon every Halloween. Of course I get the reference.” Only after I’ve said the words does the relief hit me—relief at having not to explain who I mean by we. Not having to hide the fact I watch horny vampire movies with my sisters at my parents’ house every year.

Makes my chest feel light. Like my heart’s not a stone weight I have to lug around, but a wide-open sky.

Jesus Christ. Nora’s turning me into a fucking cheeseball. I want to hate it.

I don’t.

“That sounds fun,” Nora replies, glancing at the group sign. “Also, I’m not taking your seat up front again.”

“Yes, you are.”

Her eyes meet mine. “Seriously. I’ll be fine in the back.”

“Seriously. You’ll be better up front.” I look down at her mouth and resist the urge to kiss her. We’re in public now. We’ve left our little Mariposa Suite bubble, and I don’t know how to act or what to do with my hands, because I really want to put them on her right now. I also don’t want to spook her. I’m taking her lead, and she hasn’t touched me since we left the hotel. I understand why she’s hesitant to be seen together like that. We still haven’t discussed what our relationship will look like when we’re back home.

But after learning her body all weekend, touching her however I wanted to, it’s hard to keep my hands to myself. I know she’s nervous about the flight. I want to comfort her, wrap her in my arms and kiss the top of her head and yeah, let every dickhead in the vicinity know she’s off-limits. Feels weird not to hold her, especially when she looks so fucking adorable in her jeans and sneakers, hair still a mess from the last-minute quickie we had against the bathroom door in our suite before checking out.

I can still taste her pussy on my lips.

“You sure?” she asks.

Reaching down to adjust myself, I nod. “I’m sure.”

As is becoming our tradition, Nora appears at my seat the second the seatbelt sign goes off when we’re in the air. She’s got a pair of tiny Jack Daniel’s bottles in one hand and her Queen Elizabeth neck pillow in the other.

After we finish our whiskey, she holds out the pillow. “Since you’re not the bad guy anymore, I thought you wouldn’t be too proud to use this.”

I’m smiling like an idiot as I take it from her, the happy feeling in my center expanding to an almost painful degree when she laughs as I wrap the pillow around my neck. “Okay, that is nice.”

“Told you!”

I’m buzzing. From the whiskey, yeah. But also from the way this brown-eyed girl sits on my armrest, hip pressing into my arm. She’s close, she’s comfortable, and she’s coming home with me.

I can’t not have her in my bed tonight.

We landed in Charlotte right on time, and now we’re riding the escalator down to the taxi line. “Come home with me,” I say.

Nora glances up at me from the step below. Then she glances around, lips puckered thoughtfully. Her energy is different here. Her shoulders are stiff, and she’s swept her hair up in a tight, neat bun.

Don’t, I want to tell her. Don’t do this. Not yet.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she murmurs, stepping off the escalator.

I follow her through the baggage claim area. Per usual, it’s a mob scene. Toddlers tear across what little open space there is. Bleary-eyed people wait by the carousels with get-me-the-fuck-out-of-here expressions on their faces.

I get it. I also want to get the hell out of here so I can fuck Nora. It’s been ten excruciating hours since I was inside her, and that’s nine hours and forty-five minutes too long.

I’m addicted.

It’s already dark here, the time change working against us. Stepping outside, we’re greeted by a blast of wintry air so cold it takes my breath away. I glance at Nora to make sure her jacket is zipped up all the way, frowning when I see it isn’t.