Mile High (Up in the Air #2)(21)
The way he looked at me then made me want to cry with longing. If I was foolish enough to believe that look, I’d be lost forever.
CHAPTER TEN
I was already on the edge of sleep when he undid my restraints. I heard first a pained noise escape his throat, then a harsh string of cursing. It brought me back from sleep enough to open my eyes. He was studying the marks the ropes had left on my skin. I couldn’t even feel the marks that were apparently bothering him, so I just closed my eyes, and drifted off.
He was sliding panties up my legs when I awoke. He was already dressed in a fresh white T-shirt and jeans.
I felt surprisingly good as I sat up. He’d laid a T-shirt, jeans, and a bra for me on the bed.
“You can pick something else, if you prefer. There’s plenty to choose from in the closet,” he told me, and strode from the room, closing the door with a loud click behind him.
I went into the small bathroom to change. I freshened up in a hurry, pulling the jeans on, pleased to find that they actually fit. They were the right size. They were even long enough, which was rare. They were Diesel brand, which I’d never worn, but I quickly became a fan. They were bootcut and hugged my butt just perfectly, with a little bit of stretch in the material. The dark wash was flattering. I was impressed with his dresser’s success at picking out jeans for me, a task that usually made me want to gnash my teeth in frustration.
I shrugged into the white t-shirt. It was soft and thin, with a small pocket right over my left breast. It was much more tight than something I would have chosen for myself, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. I fingered the lovely collar at my throat, clearly visible with the T-shirt’s neckline. I noticed for the first time that my earrings from the night before were missing. James must have removed them, and I had no idea where they were. I made a note to ask him about it.
I saw that he’d laid out navy running shoes for me by the door. As I slid them on, I noted that they looked oddly familiar. I was still staring at them as the door opened and a matching men’s pair of them came into view.
“We have matching shoes?” I asked him, and I couldn’t keep back a smirk.
He pulled me against him, rubbing my back and then my butt. “Shoes and shirts, and the jeans are pretty damn close.”
I laughed. “Is this a fetish of some kind? You like to match?”
He smoothed my hair back, tilting my face up as he began to braid it. “It wasn’t deliberate, exactly. I just saw that you had things similar to mine, and unconsciously picked them out. I kind of like it, though. No one could doubt that we’re together when we’re dressed like this.” He finished braiding my hair, using a hair tie from his wrist to tie it off.
He fingered my thick metal collar, his eyes soft. He surprised my by pulling a small box from his pocket. It looked like a small ring box.
My breath caught, my mind going a little panicky at what it might contain. I was almost relieved when he revealed the large, square cut, light blue gem stud earrings. They were beautiful and unexpected, and I was stunned enough to let him put them on me without protest. Foolishly, I’d had a horrifying moment where I thought he might be trying to give me a ring of some kind. I was relieved but baffled that it was something else entirely.
“It’s too much, James. You don’t need to shower me with gifts. It’s really not my thing.”
He touched my ear lightly. “No, it’s not your thing. It’s my thing, so humor me. And they match your eyes. I knew they would.”
“What happened to the other ones? The ones I wore last night? I hope I didn’t lose them.”
He just smiled at me. “You didn’t. I packed them. When will you learn that I’m a man who thinks of everything?”
I sighed at his description of himself, oddly resentful at the aptness of it.
He kissed my forehead, grabbing my hand and leading me from the plane.
Helene nodded at us as we left, calling out a polite good-day. I nodded back, uncomfortable but civil.
We emerged into a landscape of rolling green hills, surrounding a tiny landing strip that I doubted anyone could call an airport. It was an instant, pleasant change from Vegas.
“How pretty,” I said, as he led me to a sleek silver convertible sports car. Two black SUV’s were parked behind it, and I saw Clark getting behind the wheel of one of them.
The convertible’s leather seats were a bright blue that contrasted with the gunmetal color of the car. The emblem was a crown, and I had no idea what brand it was, but I knew nothing about cars, so I shouldn’t have been surprised. It was a given that the brand was out of my price range.
He opened the passenger side for me, handing me in, and even buckling my seat belt. I gave him a wry look as he did so.
“I could never pass up an opportunity to restrain you,” he said softly, as he ran his hand along the belt.
He got into the driver’s seat, reaching into the glove box and taking out two pairs of sunglasses. I took my pair, thanking him.
“You thought of everything,” I said, reaffirming his own words from a few minutes ago.
His right hand, which had been gripping my knee, went to my wrist. The marks there were harsh and red, the skin raw in places.
“Not everything, apparently. This went too far.” He started the car, signaling the SUV’s. Clark’s car went in front of us, the other falling into place behind.