Page 143 of Reverie

Hunter’s head whips toward me, his eyebrows drawing down. I slide past them both and head toward the sleeping quarters.

TWENTY

HUNTER

My emotions are at war within my body right now. The loudest part of my fucked-up brain feels peace because Winter is finally mine. My wife. My everything. Tied to me in ways that are as difficult to unwind as possible.

Winter Brigham is right here next to me.

It’s a dream come true.

But another recognizes that Winter is unhappy, and I feel her discontent in every one of my nerve endings. It’s like she’s deflated with every hour that has passed since my proposal, and now that we’re on the plane, she’s as distanced from me as we are from the earth below.

We’ve been in the air for an hour, and every five minutes I try to talk to her—try to come up with some semblance of a valuable conversation—but I know we won’t really be able to communicate until we’re both willing to spill all the shit out on the table and address it.

What happened in the shower.

What I confessed.

How we can move forward from here….

I don’t think I’m ready to address it at all. Because even though she’s my legal wife now, the safest choice for Winter would be to leave me and never look back.

I know that she’s the better person—the healthier person, the happier person, the better human.

And I also know that if I allow it, she’ll let me consume all of her.

I won’t let my darkness dim her light.

I’m deep in thought when blonde hair interrupts my vision. Blinking twice, I gather what’s happening. Jami leans over me, nearly pressing her lips to my ear.

The audacity of the woman stuns me for a moment, but then white-hot anger has me gripping her wrist in a crushing hold when she’s inches from putting her hands on me.

But instead of embarrassment or, hell, even a modicum of shame, she gasps and blushes. Her arousal radiates off her, and I feel dread at the entire situation. Holding the flight attendant’s wrist away from me, I’m prepared to berate her so soundly that she’ll never want to step on another plane ever again. That is, if she’ll even have anything left of her career once I’m done.

I should have had her removed from the fleet altogether after Asheville.

“Get your hoes in order, Hunter,” Winter spits out, and in a blink, she pushes past us and is in the back of the plane with the door slid shut behind her.

Panic blinds me.

I jump out of my seat and go after my wife.

“Wait, Mr. Brigham,” Jami says. I don’t know why I stop to listen to her, but it’s probably because I’m stunned that she dares to touch me again.

Her blood-red nails press into my forearm.

One.

Two.

Three.

“What do you want?” I ask, my tone unkind.

She gapes for a moment, and for a fleeting second she looks unsure. Then she licks her lips. “I was hoping we could…play some more. I can’t stop thinking about the last time. I know I freaked out on you a bit at the end, but….”

She blushes, and where her hand makes contact, my skin burns.