57:Fear

[1:45 PM]JON: Meridian hangar.  Plane will be waiting.  Take one of your brothers with you.

[1:46 PM]CHIARA: No family.  They’ll make me crazy.  Thx. 

That one text and the thought of her dealing with a hospitalized kid alone were all it took for Jon to decide on an impromptu trip to California.  His investment people had been hounding him for a couple of months to go out there and talk about a new business venture, so now was as good a time as any to indulge them. 

“Hey, man.” He stood and apologized to his long-time friend and keyboardist, “I’m sorry to cut this short, but something literally just came up and I have to head to the left coast as soon as I can get my ass to the airport.”

The regret was genuine because Jon was interested in his friend’s new idea for a production.  In fact, he was making giving serious consideration to offer financial support, but a final decision would have to wait for a couple more days. 

The fortunate part was that this meeting had him in the Theater District, which was at least fifteen minutes closer to the airport than his apartment.  He’d take a stroke of good luck wherever he could get one.

Cocking a curious eyebrow from his seat in the Shubert Theatre, David Bryan casually remarked, “First time I’ve ever seen you in a hurry to go that direction.”

“I hate it like the plague, but I’ve gotta bite the unexpected bullet.  We’ll talk again when I get back to town.  Seriously.”

“Whatever you say, dude,” agreed his laid back friend.  “Have fun.”

Too bad it wasn’t fun that was on the agenda.

Traffic was mild for a Thursday afternoon and Jon arrived at the hangar in record time.  He was a bit relieved to find Chiara not there yet when he stepped on board the plane, because it gave him time to make a couple of essential calls. 

The first, to his assistant, was fairly in-depth.  There were several necessary arrangements needed for the other end of this flight and it took time for him to outline everything to his specifications.  Once it was all repeated back to him with the assurance that it would be taken care of, he moved on to his second call.

His younger boys were scheduled to stay the weekend with him, partly to spend time with his parents at Matt’s birthday party Sunday.  They hadn’t seen much of their grandparents this summer and he hoped like hell things went smoothly in California so they didn’t miss the opportunity.  Just in case, though, he had a quick talk with Dorothea to alert her of the unexpected trip. 

She was so used to his jetting off on the spur of the moment, that she didn’t even ask where he was going or why.  Maybe she had decided that the divorce granted her the privilege of not caring?  Her only comment was to give her at least a couple hours’ notice if he did show up for the boys.

“What are you doing here?”

Jon had just closed the cover on his phone when the defensive question was hurled at him, and his head popped up to find that the counselor had arrived.  She gave the appearance of being completely put together with a low ponytail, subdued makeup and sleeveless dress the color of red wine.  With that look and the determined set of her jaw, it would be easy to convince just about anyone that she had her shit together. 

The difference was, Jon had seen her with her shit very together – multiple times, when she was going toe-to-toe with him.  Today, there was the faintest hint of anxiety simmering around the edges of those milk chocolate eyes.

“Hitching a ride to California,” he offered neutrally, not quite certain how to tread here.   Anxiety could easily transcend to argumentative for a woman whose son was hospitalized.  Now was not a good time to fight with her, so he did the safe thing by holding his seat and making light of his presence.  “I’ve been putting off business out there, so I’m taking your flight as a tax write-off.”

“Oh.  Okay.” 

Pleased that he’d chosen the correct approach, he brought his ankle onto the opposite knee and leaned back into the cushioned headrest.  Now all that remained was to see if she chose to sit across from him at the table or in one of the single seats on the other side of the aisle.  Once that choice was made, he would have a better feel for how that anxiety was going to play out over the course of the flight.

What he didn’t was her taking the guesswork out of it for him.

Sliding past him to sink down into the window seat on his left, Chiara fastened her seatbelt while saying, “I’m upset and worried.  That’s going to make me lousy company so, in case I’m a bitch later, I’d like you to know I really do appreciate this.  From the very bottom of my heart.  Your kindness and generosity is overwhelming considering…  Well, just considering.”

While he was grateful that she wasn’t attacking him, her gratitude made him a little uncomfortable.  They’d become real people in the last week instead of impersonal adversaries and Jon wanted her to get to her son.  He also knew and liked Caleb, and the kid should have his mother during something like this. 

He was simply being a decent human being, but that wasn’t what she wanted to hear right now. 

How he knew it, Jon wasn’t sure, but sincerity and kindness would make her situation seem worse.  Her son was in a precarious medical situation and, if the counselor wanted to keep a firm grip on hard-ass attitude so that she could cope, he was going to cater to it.

“No big deal,” he deflected easily.  “I needed a kick in the ass to go, so it helps me as much as it does you.”

Nodding, she turned to look out the window and silently watched the entire take-off process.    

Normally, he wasn’t the kind of guy who needed conversation.  Silence was a comfortable friend for him, but her silence was bothering him.  God only knew what was going on inside that head of hers.

“Did you find out anything else about Caleb?” was the brilliant tactic he used to sidetrack her from whatever those thoughts were. 

“Not much,” she relayed without turning away from the ground.  “I know which hospital, but they didn’t have anything to tell me when I called.   Noah’s there, but he’s not used to this kind of thing, so it might be doing more harm than good.”

Her voice was tight with worry and, in that moment, Jon felt inexplicably compelled to ease that worry in whatever way possible.

“Counselor.”

When she swiveled her head around in response to the quiet beckon, Jon could see that the grip she wanted to have on the situation wasn’t the same as the one she did have.  It wasn’t just one son struggling, it was both of them and she couldn’t do a damn thing about it for another six hours. 

Six hours was a long time to worry and wait.

“Need a distraction?”

Tucking her bottom lip in between her teeth, she nodded her agreement, which prompted him to immediately reach down and unfasten first his seatbelt and then hers.  When they were both free, he folded her hand inside his and rose, bringing her to stand face to face with him. 

“You already in the mile high club?” he asked, smiling when she gave a negative shake of her head.  “I don’t have a set of wings to give ya, but guarantee I can make you fly.”

Rather than making her laugh, that promise had her anxiety-riddled eyes going soft with confusion.  “What’s happening with us?”

Whatever it was, he had a feeling it was deeper than either of them was ready for, and it would be far too easy for her to take emotions that were already running high and apply them to the here and now.  He was taking it upon himself to make sure they didn’t end up on the other side of regret before they hit California.

“What’s happening is that we’re about to have some of that fighting sex you like so much.”

“Fighting?” she echoed with bewilderment as he dragged her along to the bedroom at the back of the plane. 

“Yep.”  Pushing her into the little room in front of him, Jon ordered, “Strip.”

Chiara’s head cocked to the side as her brow crumped in disbelief.  “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”  He leaned against the closed door and folded his arms with all the arrogance he could muster, knowing it would set her off sooner or later.  “Strip.”

“I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing, but-“

“Since you’re evidently having some trouble connecting those dots you love so much, lemme toss a few more out there.”  Jon’s voice remained neutrally modulated, but he threaded it with steel to let her know defiance wasn’t an option today.  She needed this escape from reality and she would get it if he had to force-feed it to her.  “Those are the only clothes you have.  If I take them off, the damn things won’t be fit to wear again.  Get the picture now?  You have five seconds before the decision is no longer yours.  One…”

“You cocky son of a bitch.” 

It wasn’t so long ago that he despised seeing Charlie the bitch counselor, but today he was issuing a hand-engraved invitation for her to hang around a while.  The heat of her flaring temper was a damn sight better to him than the withdrawn and struggling woman seated beside him during take-off. 

“Pretend you hate it if that’s what your ego needs,” he invited cordially.  “But you and I both know your panties are already wet.  Two…”

“If you think you’re going to stand around and bark orders at me, you’ve lost your damn mind.”

Her belligerent stance, boiling cocoa eyes and stubbornly jutted chin had his cock stirring behind the button fly.  Okay.  So he might be a little twisted, because Jon enjoyed sparring with her more than he should. 

“If you think you don’t get off on it, you’ve lost your damn mind.  Three…”

God, he could practically see the steam hissing from her ears in billows.  He would even swear that he felt the heat of it as she got in his face to proclaim, “I don’t need this.  I don’t need you, and I’ll be goddamned if I’m going to let you roll over me like a testosterone tank.”

She was so fucking feisty when she slipped her attitude on like a suit of armor.  It used to make him mad, but fighting his way through Charlie’s crusty shell of self-defense didn’t seem so daunting anymore.  Not when he knew Chiara was waiting beneath it.

“You need this as much as you need your next breath.”  The whisper was as gentle as the thumb he skimmed along her cheek.  “And you know I won’t stop until you take it.  Four…”

Their bodies were so close that he felt that next breath hitch against his chest before she retreated with a growl.  “Damn you,” she swore with a glare before working the dress up and over her head.  “I don’t know why the hell I put up with this.”

The dress became a splash of wine over the back of the room’s lone chair and she turned back to him, simultaneously shedding her heels and her bra.  The only thing that remained was a pair of black panties so skimpy that he didn’t see the point in wearing them to begin with.

“Don’t you?” he inquired quietly as the panties joined the rest of her clothes.  Licking his eyes up and down her naked form did nothing to relieve the pressure in his jeans, and Jon began popping the buttons at his waist. 

“No, I honestly don’t.”

His jeans hit the floor as he kicked off his shoes, and both were shoved to the side with one foot.  The black tee stripped over his head joined them and Jon extended an arm to draw her naked flesh against his.  After almost four days, her softness against his strength felt exceptionally good and he couldn’t stop his hands from meandering over that exposed skin.

“You put up with it because you finally found somebody as strong as you are.  It excites you to know I won’t be intimidated.”

The two fingers that slid easily into heat already slick with desire only confirmed it, and he reveled in the deep breath that flared her nostrils. 

“Remember… mmm… when I said you scare me?” The question came as she widened her stance, and he didn’t hesitate to take advantage by working in another finger and lightly thumbing her clit.  “Ohhh, that feels so good.”

“I remember.”

The head that had fallen backward at the touch of his thumb now righted itself.  Soft hands caressed his chest as doe-eyes that hid nothing met his.  “Now I’m fucking terrified.”

Jon’s heart seized at the soul-baring admission that signaled Charlie’s retreat, leaving Chiara in her place.  It was Chiara’s melted chocolate eyes he looked into.  It was her touch against his skin, and Jon had to have her.   

Easing them both onto the bed with arms tightly wrapped around her torso, he used his knees to wedge himself between her thighs.  A wriggling of hips brought him in contact with his target and, when the swollen head of his cock slipped inside her warm and inviting sheath, Jon touched his lips to the shell of her ear.

“Everything you want is on the other side of that fear.”