Driven By Fate(46)

His right eyebrow dipped. “Is it in your backpack?”

They both lunged for the canvas bag at the same time, each grabbing onto a strap and pulling. “Let go, let go, let go. Please.”

“You are fighting a losing battle, I assure you.”

“It’s a vinyl. Billy Joel.” she blurted, letting go of her strap so she could cover her face with both hands. “Your office is so quiet and boring and you don’t even have an iPhone. I saw the record player downstairs, so I just thought…” She reached over to unzip the backpack, taking out the 45 and setting it in his lap. “Here. I’m just answering your cry for help.”

Porter stared at the vinyl as if it had dropped from the sky. He picked it up and carefully turned it over, but didn’t say anything. From the way his eyes moved, she could tell he was reading the song titles. The longer he stayed silent, the more anxious she became. What would a regimented British man want with a Billy Joel album? Dumb. So dumb.

“It was my mother’s.” The words just slipped out. She hadn’t planned on telling him, but it became clear to her why her exhausted brain had deemed Billy Joel the perfect gift. She’d wanted to share something important with him. No one ever brought her mother up anymore and maybe she’d just wanted to say mother out loud, to remind herself she’d had one once. “Look, I know you’re not exactly the chatty type, but—”

He cut her off with his mouth. Both of them kept their eyes open for a split second, long enough for her to register Porter’s hunger, possibly even surprise at himself for kissing her. Then, very slowly, his eyes closed. Tightly. He grabbed the back of her head, hauling her close while his tongue swept into her mouth. Hesitation gone, he angled her face and devoured her with a low groan, slanting his lips over hers again and again until weakness began to invade her limbs. Lack of oxygen? Or was he absorbing her willpower, making it his possession the same way he’d done with her body? Her last coherent thought fled and all she could do was cling to him, and let him take.

…

At some point you have to stop.

Porter was shocked that the thread of common sense found its way through the thick haze of lust swamping him. He didn’t want to stop. Ever. She tasted like berries. Any hint of fight had fled her body the second he kissed her; she’d submitted so perfectly that it was fast becoming a necessity that he end the kiss or attempt to f*ck her without an airplane full of people being the wiser. Yes, he’d seat her on his lap, slip into her snug * and let her rock back and forth on his stiff dick. Yes. Yes.

Christ. He couldn’t. Too bright. Too public. Flight attendants walking back and forth. Get ahold of yourself, man. Where is your control? Porter broke the kiss but kept her face close, wanting to feel her breath against his mouth.

“I, um…” Her inhale was shaky. “I thought you weren’t going to kiss me until we landed.”

Why did his chest hurt? It felt full and empty at the same time. He quelled the urge to rub at the gaping center. “Yes, well. Someone told me recently that my rules are pointless.”

“They sound wise.” She rubbed her nose against his. “You should listen to them.”

The vinyl’s weight in his hand reminded him why he’d kissed her in the first place, as if he needed a reason. She’d given him something…important, decided he deserved to have it. And the entire time, she’d had the nerve to look as though she’d welcome the earth swallowing her up. He’d wanted to shake her until she realized how honored he was to have something of hers, but it seemed an odd way of thanking someone for a gift. He wouldn’t know. He’d never gotten one.

A sweeping need to give her something in return wouldn’t be denied. Not just something. The one thing he’d never planned on showing anyone. It would be opening himself up, losing a piece of his carefully concealed psyche.

Don’t be such a coward. Look at her. She’s already become your biggest vulnerability. What’s adding one more thing? Without taking his eyes from her, he reached for the legal pad containing the first three chapters of his thriller novel and tossed it onto her lap.

Her answering smile knocked the breath from his lungs. She picked the notepad up and flipped back to the first page. How stupid that his palms started to sweat as she scanned the first few lines, that his throat suddenly turned dry as dust. Bad idea. This had been a bad idea.

“You’re writing a…book?” Her silver eyes sparkled as she looked up at him. “Porter, are you writing a book?”

“It’s just a hobby.” He attempted to look bored. “A way to keep my mind occupied when the antique business isn’t devastating me with excitement.”

“London Larceny,” she murmured, reading the title he’d written at the top of page one, before scanning a few more lines. “Why…why are you writing it on a legal pad?

“Because if I write it on the computer, it’s more than a hobby.” He crossed his arms. “It’s officially work, and then I’ll be forced to finish.”

“Remember that person who said your rules were pointless?”

“Yes.” He swallowed a smile. “I’ve decided my initial assessment of her wisdom was made in haste.”

“Are you teasing me?” She clutched the legal pad to her chest. “I don’t even know you anymore.”