Unleashed (The Elliott Brothers #2)

Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

I gazed out the window from first class, watching the clouds drift lazily below. The steady hum of the plane and the soft snoring of Slade beside me created a bubble of calm, though my mind was anything but peaceful. I’d just woken from a nap, disoriented by the stretch of time that had passed. We were somewhere over the Pacific with hours to go before landing in Maui.

A smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I thought about the day before—my first as a married woman. Mrs. Morgan Abbott. The name felt surreal, like I was living in someone else’s life. Slade Abbott was everything I had wanted. We'd have beautiful children, a comfortable life, and once Keaton handed the company over to him, things would only get better.

And yet... Michael Elliott.

My chest tightened at the thought of him. Why couldn’t I shake him? If I had no doubts about Slade, then why was Michael still lodged in my mind, his words from weeks ago echoing louder than ever? I love you. I’ve never stopped. I clenched my jaw, wishing I could erase that moment. My life had been perfect until Michael came back and shattered it with those words.

I signaled for the flight attendant, my nerves on edge. When she appeared, I ordered a rum and coke. Slade would probably frown, but I needed something to calm me down. My hand shook slightly as I sipped it, the alcohol warming my throat and dulling the edges of my anxiety. By the time Slade stirred awake, I had finished the drink.

His eyes fluttered open, his gaze immediately finding mine. He smiled lazily, reaching over to squeeze my hand. “Good afternoon, beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. “Did you get some rest?”

I returned his smile, though it didn’t quite reach my eyes. “A little. You looked like you needed it more than I did.”

He chuckled, shifting in his seat to stretch. “Yeah, well, I should be tired. My gorgeous wife kept me up all night.” He grinned at me, his eyes full of teasing mischief.

I raised an eyebrow, leaning into his playful mood. “Oh, you’re blaming me now?”

He smirked, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Not entirely, but you definitely played a part.” His voice dropped, the memory of the night lingering between us.

I giggled and leaned in to kiss his cheek, enjoying the moment of lightness. But when I pulled back, his eyes drifted to the empty cup on my tray.

His smile faltered slightly. “Did you have a drink while I was asleep?” His tone was casual, but I could hear the underlying tension.

I shrugged. “Just a coke.”

“Nothing in it?”

I hesitated, my irritation bubbling just below the surface. “Does it matter?”

Slade’s brow furrowed as he shifted in his seat. “I just don’t want you drunk when we land.”

I set my jaw, feeling my pulse quicken. “It was one drink, Slade. Relax.”

His mouth twitched, a crease forming between his brows. “And the champagne when the flight took off?”

“That was hours ago,” I snapped, my patience thinning. “Why are you keeping tabs on everything I drink?”

“I’m just making sure you’re okay, Morgan,” he said, his voice softening. “You know how you get when?—”

“I’m fine.” I cut him off, my words sharp. “Stop worrying so much.”

His eyes searched mine, but instead of pressing, he sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. “I’ve seen you drunk, Morgan. It’s not… the best version of you.”

My temper flared, and I could feel the heat rise in my chest. “I’m not drunk, so get off it.” I turned toward the window, staring hard at the clouds, shutting him out.

There was a long silence before he spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Morgan.”

I didn’t respond, refusing to look at him. My fingers tightened around the armrest as frustration and guilt warred inside me.

“I’m sorry,” Slade said softly, the sincerity in his voice tugging at me, but I stayed silent.

He exhaled loudly, the sound full of tension. “Please, don’t start off our honeymoon like this. I said I’m sorry.”

I turned my head slightly, still not meeting his eyes. “Stop trying to control me. Is this how it’s going to be?”

His head jerked back as if my words had struck him. “Control you? I’m not trying to control you. I just?—”

“You sound like a controlling asshole.” The words were out before I could stop them.

Slade blinked, hurt flashing across his face, quickly masked by a neutral expression. “I’m not trying to control you, Morgan,” he repeated quietly. “I care about you. I care deeply.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, guilt pressing down on me. “I know. I do appreciate it, really. But let’s just move on, okay?”

“Fine.” He paused, studying me closely. “Is something bothering you? You’ve been off for weeks. I thought it was just wedding stress, but now… it feels like something else.”

I clenched my hands in my lap, fighting the urge to tell him everything. Michael’s back. But I couldn’t. Not now. “It’s just… things are changing, Slade. I need time to adjust.”

“And I’ll give you that,” he said gently, his voice full of patience. “I’m adjusting too, you know. It’s new for both of us.”

I nodded, my chest tightening with the weight of secrets unspoken. “Can we just forget this whole thing?”

“It’s forgotten,” he said, though the tension between us still lingered.

I reclined my seat, closing my eyes in an attempt to escape the heaviness in the air. Moments later, I felt his hand brush against my cheek, his knuckles grazing my skin in soft, soothing strokes. Despite the knot of guilt in my stomach, the rhythmic motion eased the tension, pulling me toward sleep.

As I drifted off, I wished I could forget Michael Elliott for good. But deep down, I knew he wasn’t just a memory. He was a presence I couldn’t escape, a shadow that loomed over the perfect life I was trying so hard to create.

“We can’t do this here. There’s no room,” I whispered, my breath hitching as the cramped airplane bathroom seemed to shrink even more around us.

His grin widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Haven’t you ever heard of the mile-high club?” he teased, leaning in just enough that his scent, woodsy and masculine, made my pulse race.

I bit my lip, glancing around the tiny, sterile space. “Yes, but this bathroom is like a closet. How do people manage?”

Without a word, his strong hands gripped my hips, lifting me onto the cool stainless steel sink in one swift motion. The metal chilled my thighs as he pulled me to the very edge, his body pressing against mine. I gasped, my hands flying out to brace myself against the walls. They were so close, I felt boxed in, and yet... exhilarated.

“Hold on tight,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with anticipation.

His fingers bunched the fabric of my skirt, pushing it up with a deliberate slowness, making my heart pound louder in my chest. His gaze never left mine as he unzipped his blue slacks, his movements confident, almost predatory. My breath hitched again as his hard length sprang free, the tip swollen and flushed with desire.

He didn’t hesitate. With a rough yank, he wrenched my panties to the side, his touch sending a jolt through my body. And then, without warning, he thrust inside me, hard and deep, filling me completely.

I clamped my eyes shut, overwhelmed by the intensity of it—the feeling of him buried deep inside me in this forbidden, impossibly small space. My fingers pressed into the cold walls for balance as my body reacted on instinct, craving more of him.

“Morgan,” he growled, his forehead pressing against mine. “I’m going to fuck you good and long, but you need to keep your moaning to a minimum. Unless you want to give the passengers a show.”

I stifled a moan, my lip caught between my teeth as he began to move, slow at first, teasing me with every thrust. But I couldn’t hold back. The sensation of him pushing deeper, harder, sent shockwaves through me. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay quiet for long.

His hips pumped steadily, each thrust more demanding than the last. “Oh God, this feels so good,” I gasped, my voice a whisper, barely audible over the hum of the plane.

“I knew you missed me,” he muttered against my lips, his breath hot and ragged.

I opened my mouth to respond, but what came out wasn’t what I expected. “It’s more than missing you. I love you. I never stopped loving you.” The words tumbled out, raw and full of emotion, leaving me vulnerable in a way I hadn’t planned.

His lips crashed into mine, silencing my moan as his pace quickened. My fingers clung to the walls, desperate to hang on as his thrusts sent pleasure radiating through me. I was close—so close—and just when I thought I’d tip over the edge, a sharp voice pierced the fog.

“Morgan?”

I jerked, startled, my eyes flying open. Slade was in his seat, leaning over me with a concerned look on his face. And then I realized—everyone was looking at me.

My face burned with embarrassment. “What happened?” I asked, feigning ignorance, trying to will away the flush creeping up my neck.

“You were dreaming... and moaning,” Slade said, an amused smile tugging at his lips.

I blinked, my pulse still racing as I struggled to pull myself back to reality. “I’m sorry,” I muttered, heat prickling my skin.

He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “I hope you were dreaming about me.”

I swallowed hard, forcing a smile. “Of course. I was.”

His eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Tell me about it.”

“We were... joining the mile-high club,” I said, my voice tight, hoping he wouldn’t press for details.

His grin turned wicked. “Oh? Well, if you’d like, we still have time to make that dream a reality.”

I laughed nervously, brushing a hand through my hair to shake off the lingering tension. “Those bathrooms are so small. How people have sex in them is beyond me.”

“Plenty manage,” he said with a wink, leaning in closer. “Might be fun.”

“Or it could be highly embarrassing,” I countered, my smile forced, knowing how close I’d come to letting my dream slip into real life.

He chuckled, his fingers tracing the edge of my knee. “We can discuss it and maybe give it a try on the way home.”

“We’ll see,” I said, my voice light but my stomach twisting with guilt. “No promises.”

Slade leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my lips, the taste of red wine lingering on his tongue. His warmth should’ve comforted me, but instead, it only deepened the ache inside.

“Did you drink while I was asleep?” I asked, forcing myself to focus on something else.

“Just a glass of red wine,” he said, settling back into his seat.

I smirked, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream. “Should I get on your ass about it?”

He grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. “I’d rather get on your sexy ass. I’m turned on by your dream.”

“Down, boy.” I teased, but the unease gnawed at me. “I won’t promise to join the mile-high club, but I will promise to make waiting worth your while.”

He raised his eyebrows, clearly intrigued. “I like the sound of that.”

As he picked up the travel magazine from his lap, flipping through the pages, my heart sank. If he knew I had been dreaming about Michael Elliott, he would lose it. I swallowed hard, trying to shake the lingering heat from my dream. I would have to do better at pushing Michael out of my mind.

If that’s even possible.