Reckless (Thoughtless, #3)(35)

Eventually Anna simmered down enough to say goodbye to everyone and help me get my stuff into Denny’s old Honda. Well, okay, she supervised while I packed my bags into the car. I had two of them, which I thought was pretty modest for an open-ended stay. Anna had three stuffed bags and a carry-on that pushed the boundaries of acceptably fitting into the overhead compartment.

Just as I was settling into my seat and the flight attendant told us to turn off our electrical devices, my cell phone buzzed. Thinking it was Kellan, since I’d just texted him to let him know we were about to leave, I discretely checked the phone. I smiled, seeing a message from Denny on the screen. I’ll miss you, mate. Good luck, and be careful.

I had to shake my head at Denny’s never-ending thoughtfulness. I almost showed the message to Anna, to maybe change her mind about Denny, but she would look at the text and immediately assume I’d slept with him the other night. Not wanting to defend my innocence again, I turned my phone off and tucked it into my bag.

The flight to Los Angeles wasn’t long, but I bounced my feet, played with my guitar-shaped necklace, and worried my lip the entire time we were in the air. I even tried writing a little, but I couldn’t concentrate enough and eventually put my notebook away. I just wanted to be with Kellan already. My heart was hammering in my chest when the plane touched down, and I think I was breathing harder when we finally taxied into position. Anna snorted and told me, “Calm down, horn dog.” But I couldn’t calm down. And I wasn’t horny or anything, I just . . . needed him.

It was a free-for-all to exit the plane, so I grabbed my bag and darted for the door before Anna had even stood up. Even though we were seated near the middle of the plane, I was the second person to leave. Nerves skittered around my belly as I sprinted up the ramp. I wasn’t sure how I’d spot Kellan in the sea of travelers and visitors in this massive airport. I supposed I could text him if I didn’t spot him right away in baggage claim.

I burst through the corridor toward the waiting area for visitors. I took one brief sweep of the crowd eagerly waiting for friends and loved ones, then I started laughing. Kellan was standing front and center with his arms extended into the air like John Cusack in Say Anything. Only, he wasn’t holding a boombox blaring Peter Gabriel. No, Kellan was proudly holding a sign that read—in embarrassingly large black letters—MRS. KELLAN KYLE.

I should have known that Kellan wouldn’t be hard to spot. Even without the sign, he stuck out.

I let out a strangled laugh-sob as I rushed over to him. I just couldn’t believe I was finally with him—and I wasn’t leaving this time. Kellan barely had time to drop the sign and catch me as I leapt into his arms. I buried my head in his neck, wrapped my legs around his waist, and held on as tight as I could. His masculine, clean, intoxicating scent hit me as his warm hands caressed my back. My jittery nerves instantly evaporated. I was there. We were together.

I pulled back when I felt low laughter vibrating my chest. Kellan was beaming as he stared up at me. Maybe it was my imagination, but his midnight blue eyes seemed to be even deeper in color, his lashes longer. Even the curve of his amused smile was more sensual than I recalled. I didn’t know it was possible, but he’d become even more attractive in my short absence.

“Miss me?” he murmured, leaning up in a gesture that clearly said, I want to feel your lips.

Grinning, I obliged him. Even his mouth was sweeter, more tender. When his tongue flashed against mine and his hand sneaked down to my backside, I suddenly remembered that we were in a very public place, a place swarming with young, innocent eyes.

Squirming, I broke free from his grasp and set my feet on the ground. He frowned at me; if it was possible, his pout was even more adorable than his smile. “Hey, I was enjoying that.”

“Yeah, I know.” I rested my hand against his stomach, and he reached up to grab my fingers; his frown instantly disappeared. He chuckled and bent down to pick up his welcome sign. I had to resist the urge to run my fingers through his impossibly sexy, shaggy, bed-head hair. When he straightened, I pointed to the ostentatious placard in his hand. “I like your sign.”

He grinned. “I thought you might.”

Reading it again as it dangled by his hip, I frowned. “But, just so you know, I’m not going by Mrs. Kellan Kyle. It’s too old-fashioned.”

Kellan glanced at the poster board by his thigh, then looked back up at me. “What? It’s endearing to take your husband’s full name, isn’t it?” His thumb reached up to brush my wedding ring as he said husband, and the pride he felt at me being his wife was clear on his features.

“It’s sexist, Kellan. I have my own name. I don’t need to assume yours.” I smoothed my hand over the soft, black cotton covering his pecs. To make my point, I traced the scripted letters of my name along the hidden tattoo above his heart. Kellan shuddered and his eyes started to blaze. “Just your last name,” I whispered.

Kellan’s sultry gaze drifted to my mouth. His lips parted, and as I watched, enraptured, he flicked his tongue over his bottom lip, then slowly dragged his teeth along the plump skin. It was distracting, to say the least.

Just as I was wondering how much PDA we could get away with before being carted off by the TSA, a loud voice erupted over the cacophony of the airport din. “Thanks, Kiera! I nearly gave birth trying to get my carry-on down!”

Kellan and I both looked back at my red-faced sister. As she stomped toward us, she huffed at a stray strand of hair that was dangling close to her eye. It was an exaggerated expression that screamed to everyone around her that she was put out. Kellan dropped my hand and took a step toward her. “I guess I should help.”