Flying Read online

  “Iced tea,” she said politely to the bartender. “Thanks.”

  “You should have something a little stronger than an iced tea,” said a male voice from behind her, and everything inside her clenched and twisted and dropped.

  Stella turned on her stool to favor him with a smile. “Hi. Matthew, right?”

  “You remembered.” His grin seemed easier this time than it had the first time they’d met. She guessed it was the liquor she could smell on him and the empty glass in his hand. “Stella.”

  “You remembered,” she murmured.

  At home, if she’d dressed herself up and gone to a bar, Stella would’ve been plagued with insecurities that never bothered her when she flew. But here was the conundrum. She was dressed up; she was flying. But against all odds, she was still Stella. If she’d met another man tonight, there’d have been a different name. Mannerisms, habits, whatever it was that made her into someone new. In front of him, though, this man who’d already seen her naked, who’d already felt her come, who’d already tasted her, Stella had to swallow hard against the sudden tightness in her throat.

  Matthew leaned a little closer. His face was stubbled a little heavier this time, the lines at the corners of his eyes a little more pronounced. She caught the flecks of silver in his dark hair, cropped shorter than she remembered. Two months hadn’t been entirely kind to him, she thought. Two months had worn him. Though he was still handsome.

  “How could I forget you? Stella, Stella star.”

  She laughed at that. Not the first time she’d heard it. “Have you been here awhile?”

  “Corey, have I been here awhile?” Matthew raised his glass. “Long enough, I guess. For tonight. Hey, Corey, gimme another, would ya?”

  Corey was happy to do it, and one for Stella too, though she hadn’t asked for it.

  “Corey,” said Matthew, “makes a great Manhattan, as you might remember.”

  Stella smiled. “Yes. He does. Do you want to sit down?”

  “Yes.” Matthew slid onto the stool next to hers, not as unsteadily as she might’ve guessed from the way he was slightly slurring his words. “Stella, Stella, Stella. How did I know I’d see you again?”

  She twisted on her stool to let her knees bump his and lifted her drink as well as an eyebrow. This was getting easier, making Stella a character the way all the others had been. “I don’t know. How did you?”

  “I just thought if I sat here often enough, waiting, you’d make your way back here. And I was right, wasn’t I?”

  She hesitated at that, not sure how seriously she should take him. “You were waiting for me?”

  At that, his gaze shuttered briefly before he smiled at her. “Sure.”

  “Uh-huh.” Stella could tell when she was being played, but it didn’t matter because he was so very, very charming about it. She lifted her glass and sipped, eyeing him. She leaned a little closer, lowering her voice. “Well. Here I am.”

  “Here you are.”

  He might be well on his way to drunk, but he held her gaze for so long heat flamed inside her. His smile teased her own, until they both sat looking at each other like a pair of fools. It was enough to look at each other, it seemed, because Matthew didn’t seem inclined to say anything for some long minutes, and neither did Stella.

  Finally he spoke. “You want to go home with me?”

  Stella smiled. “Why do you think I flew to Chicago?”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  They took a cab the way they had done the first time, though this time she’d had only iced tea, not having touched her Manhattan before they left the bar, and could better remember the street names and path the cab took. Matthew sat close to her, holding her hand. His thumb stroked the back of it, over and over, until she had to clench her thighs together against the pulse in her clit.

  He kissed her in the elevator. Backed her up against the wall. Slid a hand between her legs and found her slick and hot. He moaned a little when his fingertips encountered the garters, and he pulled open the slit of her dress to look. Then at her face.

  “You are so sexy.”

  Stella’s breath caught. Men had said that, or permutations of it, to her so many times she’d lost track, but something in the way Matthew said it left her speechless. When he pushed against her to nibble her neck, his hand still between her legs, she could only give herself up to his caress and pray nobody else was going to get on the elevator.

  Nobody did, although when it stopped on his floor and the door opened, Matthew did withdraw fast enough to make her head spin in a different way. Holding her hand, he drew her out of the elevator and down the hall to his apartment.

  Inside, he kissed her, long and slow and deep. His tongue stroked hers. His hand went between her legs again, this time to tug open her dress and explore the straps of her garters. He let out another of those shuddering sighs and pulled away to look into her eyes.

  “Did you dress this way hoping to meet me?”

  “Yes.” It wasn’t a lie. She’d dressed this way to meet someone—and though it hadn’t been until the missed flight to Atlanta that she’d considered Chicago an option, there was no denying she’d hoped against hope she’d find him again.

  And she had.

  Matthew went slowly to his knees in front of her. The wrap dress came open with a swift tug. She stood in front of him in her fancy bra and pretty panties, the lacy garter belt and sheer stockings.

  Men had varied reactions to this sight for the first time. Most loved the sexy lingerie, though there’d been a few who couldn’t have cared less about what she wore so long as she had their dicks down the back of her throat. Most were properly appreciative, some went gape-jawed, a few blushed.

  Matthew adored.

  He ran his fingers along the backs of her legs, tickling behind her knees. Then the tops of her stockings. He nudged her thighs to widen her stance a little, and Stella obliged, going dry-mouthed at his attentions. Matthew nuzzled the inside of her thigh, just above the stocking. His fingers crept up to cup her ass as he nosed a little higher, higher. He breathed against her pussy, the heat of his breath making her squirm until he held her still. The pressure of his lips on her clit, even through the satin, was enough to urge a sigh from her.

  “Fuck, I want to taste you,” he said.

  Stella had no answer for that but to shift her feet a little wider and tilt her hips toward him. Matthew hooked his fingers in her panties and eased them over the garters and stockings, then gently gripped first one ankle and then the other to help her step out of them. She had to put a hand on his shoulder to steady herself, and when he looked up at her from that place on his knees, his hazel eyes hazy with lust, his mouth already wet from where he’d licked his lips, she knew she’d better find something to hold on to, because when he put his mouth on her she was going to want to fall down.

  Matthew pressed his mouth to her clit, sucking gently. Stella groaned. Her fingers tightened on his shoulder. With a low laugh that sent shivers of pleasure all through her, Matthew looked up at her. He kissed between her legs again, then pushed her gently back toward the couch.

  “Sit. Open your legs for me.”

  He said it in such a way it was clear he expected no resistance. Not that she had any. Stella was more than happy to shrug out of her dress and toss it to the side and take a seat on the couch. Matthew gripped her hips and pulled her forward to the edge, then sat back to look at her.

  Slowly, slowly, she did as he’d commanded, inching open her thighs to reveal herself to him totally. There was always hesitation in this exposure. In making herself vulnerable and available. And this time, she wore her real name. Her real face and hair. The Stella who normally looked this way, aside from the lingerie and shoes, was not the woman who fucked in bathroom stalls or the backseats of cars. Or fucked at all, for that matter