Chapter 30

I'm going to fucking murder him.

I swear to God, if he has laid one finger on my girl, he won't have any left to count the money in his precious investment funds.

I'm in my Porsche doing ninety-five on the freeway and headed for the airport. I don't recall saying bye to Mom and Dad, but Adam caught me as I rushed out of the house.

"It's Felicity, isn't it?" he asked, concern etched into lines across his face. He passed me his phone, which showed there was a flight to London Heathrow leaving in ninety minutes, and I still have an outside chance of making it, provided there are available seats. "Go," was the last thing he said to me as I flew out the door.

I'm grateful I have an overnight bag with me because I haven't had the time to stop anywhere to get supplies. I'm also grateful I had the forethought to pack my passport just in case. Anxiety can be a bitch at times, but when you repeatedly run through every scenario in your head, you are at least prepared for the worst.

I dump my car in the drop-off zone—they can bill me—and race into departures.

"Ticket. Heathrow. Now. Please." At this point I'm unable to form coherent sentences, the bile in my throat impossible to swallow down.

"There are only first-class seats available, sir."

I look myself up and down. "I don't fit into economy seats, ma'am."

I notice her eyes widen just slightly as awareness of who I am sinks in, but she maintains her professional exterior, thank Christ. I can't risk being delayed signing autographs and taking pictures, so I flip my backward cap around to face forward and pull the peak as low as it can go over my eyes.

"That'll be?—"

"It isn't an issue," I reply quickly and hand my black AMEX over with shaky hands as she swipes it, checks my passport, and passes me my boarding pass.

Racing through security, which thank fuck is quiet, I pull out my phone and type Felicity a text.

Me

I land in London at seven a.m. GMT. I'll have my phone on WIFI the entire time. Be there soon, Angel.

Hearing her broken voice on the phone earlier cracked my heart straight down the center, a feeling which left me without any doubts that I am totally in love with my girlfriend. I pause my fingers over the text I'm typing. I want to tell her, my heart pleading with me to admit to her what I've likely known for months. But it's not the right time. So instead, I hit send and swallow the words down even though I'm not sure how much longer I can hold them in.

I haven't sleptin over forty-eight hours, and by the time I pull up to the black iron gates in front of Felicity's former house, my eyes are raw, my head is banging, but my body is thrumming with adrenaline. I've never been this wired, even for the playoff finals.

I'm relieved when the gates open without a code, and I pull into the gravel courtyard. The house is nice. It has that typical English country feel to it. It's double-fronted with a stone porch and a thick black wooden door with a brass knocker set in the center.

Pleading with myself not to hit him but knowing all too well I'm likely to knock him out at first sight, I fling my door open and jog to the entrance.

The door swings open before I reach it, and Felicity stands there, her tiny frame dressed in plaid red and green pajamas and those ridiculous bunny slippers. I smile, amused by her outfit but mostly relieved to find her safe.

I wrap her in my arms, pull her off the ground, and plant a kiss on her forehead. Fuck, she's gorgeous. Setting her back down on her feet, I cast a glance over her shoulder. "Where is he?"

"He went out. I haven't spoken to him since last night, so I don't know when he'll be back."

I scan my eyes over her face and then down her body. "Did he hurt you, touch you?"

She shakes her head but keeps her eyes pinned on me like she's begging me to believe her. "No, he was just an asshole."

"Grab your things. I'm guessing Darcy and Jack are still out?" The driveway is totally clear.

"Yes, they haven't got home yet."

Packed up and making our way to the car, Felicity stops dead in her tracks. The iron gates begin opening, and a white Jaguar F-Type pulls alongside my red Mercedes rental car.I feel Felicity stand closer to me, her breath unsteady, and her intimidated response instantly ignites my rage. I'm grinding my molars so hard, they could snap under the pressure.

Elliott's already striding toward me as I look up at him with a shit eating grin. "Get off my fucking property before I call the pol?—"

He doesn't get a chance to finish his threat. Instead, the end of his sentence is met with the force of my fist. Bones crunch in his nose and blood sprays across his pristine Jag. Shame.

"Jesus, I think you broke my nose!" he screams, clutching his face and buckling over.

I grab Felicity's hand, and we make our way to my car. Popping the trunk, I fling her bag in next to mine and open the passenger door. Buckling her seatbelt, I close her door and make my way back to the piece of shit still wailing in his driveway.

Crouching down in front of him so he can see my eyes, blood still pouring from his nose, I talk very clearly and slowly. "Let me make one thing perfectly clear, Elliott. Come within a hundred feet of my girlfriend again and your nose will be the least of your worries. I'll take your fucking head off."

With that, I casually make my way back to the car but stop and turn on my heel. He's still bent over, clutching his face. Perhaps he's never been punched before and that thought alone surprises me. "She told me what you said last night," I say, my shit eating grin making a return. "And I wouldn't be concerned over our exclusivity. I plan to make her my wife."

We twist and turn around country lanes, Jon's bloody knuckles gripping the steering wheel so tightly it could crush under the pressure.

The navigation system is on, but he's ignoring it. The robotic voice has been asking us to "make a U-turn" for the last ten minutes.

"Do you know where you're going?" I'm not sure he does.

"I'm just driving as quickly as I can away from that house. The further I get, the less likely I am to turn back and gouge his eyes out so he can never look at you again."

He's raging. I've never seen him this upset. His knees bounce with adrenaline; his hands squeeze and tremble.

"Pull over."

"What?"

"Just pull over. Here, in this lay-by." I point to an area set to the side of the road.

Jon pulls in and puts the car in park. Immediately I undo my seatbelt and cross the center console, flipping a leg over one side of him so I'm straddling his lap. Seating myself, I immediately feel him start to harden.

He pushes his head back into the seat and stares into my eyes. His are puffy and slightly red, a sure sign he's had very little sleep. He looks exhausted. Pushing a strand of hair that's come loose from my messy bun, he tucks it behind my ear.

Desire surges through me. I want him so much. I want all of him. To me, every part of him is beautiful. The imperfections others may see are nothing but perfect to me.

I run my hands through his thick and disheveled dark hair. It's a bit longer than usual, and there's more than a couple of days' worth of scruff on his chin. "Thank you for coming to me. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you," I whisper, as entranced by his steely eyes as I was the day I collided with him in that hallway.

"You were just doing what you thought was right, and I'd burn the fucking world before I let anything happen to you." He tilts his hips slightly, so his hard cock grinds against my already throbbing core. A low moan escapes me as I imagine what it would be like to have him inside me.

His hips stop rocking. "Where did you get that from?"

"Get what?"

His hand flies to my neck. "That."

Shit. I must've forgotten to remove it.

I can't lie, even if I know it will upset him even more. "Him. He made me wear it, and I must've forgotten to take it off last night."

Jon's jaw ticks as he leans forward and inspects the pendant. "He's still in love with you. In his own fucked up way."

"It doesn't matter what he is."

I reach behind my neck to unclasp the necklace, but Jon beats me to it. He dangles it in front of him with a look of disdain. Next thing I know, he opens his window and casts it out into the gravel.

Returning his eyes to mine, a deep feral need in them, Jon grips my hips and begins kissing my neck and slowly, he grinds into me again. "We need to get out of here, or I'm going to fuck you right here in this car."

"Then do it," I gasp, as he grinds on me harder. I rest my head on his chest, and I notice the trembles wracking his body previously have now subsided under my touch. I'm so horny I can feel my wetness begin to seep through my underwear.

"Not here." Jon lifts my chin and kisses me passionately, his tongue swiping across my lips and when I open for him, he devours me as I writhe on his lap, desperate for more friction.

His hands drop to my jean-covered ass and he moves me over and over his impossibly hard erection. He's so big I have no idea how my tiny five-three frame will take him when the time comes. We continue to make out in the car. Several others drive by, but honestly, I couldn't give a shit. It's all about me and my man.

A few more minutes pass before we break apart and Jon starts the engine."Let's get to the hotel," he says in a breathy voice as he punches a name into the navigation.

"Where are we staying?" I'm pretty sure I can guide us to wherever we need to go.

"Nous restons à la Chateau," Jon replies, in freakin' French. My eyes bug out at his near-perfect accent and the fact we're staying at one of the most exclusive hotels in Oxfordshire on Boxing Day. I don't bother asking how he managed to reserve a room at such late notice. Nothing surprises me anymore when it comes to my boyfriend.

I reluctantly climb back over to the passenger seat as he shifts into first. "You speak French?"

With his hand resting on the steering wheel, he throws me a wink. "Linguistics graduate in college. I majored in French." With that sexy-as-hell bombshell, he checks over his shoulder and pulls out of the lay-by, and all the while I mentally calculate how many pairs of spare knickers I packed on this trip.

"This place is really beautiful."We make our way down the mahogany-paneled corridor away from our luxury suite overlooking the beautifully manicured gardens. Even in the winter, it"s beautiful with layers of stunning roses, snowdrops, Cyclamen, and crocuses to name a few. The hotel itself is a mixture of English country cottage and opulence, and it works perfectly.

Hand in hand, we enter the dining room, and I feel underdressed in my emerald A-line dress and black pumps. I hadn't planned on going out for dinner, so this is the best I could do being so far from the nearest shops.

"You look so fucking stunning I can barely breathe." His breath and cologne envelop me as we make our way to the table and take a seat.

The waiter takes our drink order, and I opt for the Italian dry Pinot Grigio, but Jon sticks with mineral water since he's tightened up on his dietary schedule as the Scorpions continue to push for the playoffs.

"It's nice being able to take you out without having every pair of eyes on us in the room." He takes my hand across the table but then decides he's too far away and pulls his chair around, so we sit next to each other. "Kind of nice not to be as recognized." He leans across and kisses me softly on the corner of my lips. "I'm obsessed with you; fuck knows what I'd have done if he hurt you."

My heart thunders against my rib cage. I can feel my pulse in my ears as he pops his dimples and smiles brightly. "I have to head home tomorrow evening, and I want you to come back with me. I can't leave you here. Your home is with me, in Seattle at my apartment."

My mouth pops open on instinct as I process his words. "Are you asking me to move in with you?"

"I don't want you to live in that apartment any longer. You belong with me, by my side, in my bed, and in my arms."

I know what my answer is because I'm in love with him. Christ, how have I gone from being a woman determined not to enter another relationship for many years to being so sure of moving in with my boyfriend of a month?

"Okay," I say, squeezing his hand.

Jon blinks at me as his dimple-popping smile returns. "As in okay, okay?"

"As in okay, okay," I say, an excited giggle bubbling out of me.

"I'd pick you up and spin you around if this wasn't such a refined establishment."

I snort a laugh. "I dare you."

Pushing back his seat he says, "Oh, Angel, you should know by now I'm not a guy who shies away from anything."

All at once, I'm seeing the grand dining room from six-feet-four as it spins around me, Jon balancing me on his shoulder. I've never heard his laugh so carefree and hearty, and I grip onto his waist, savoring what is definitely one of the best moments of my life.

"Give me a bite then."His spoon goes into my chocolate torte, again, but I quickly bat it away with mine.

"Um no. If you wanted some pudding, then you should've ordered it."

"Spot the only child." He tries once more, but I'm quicker at blocking his path.

"I'll let that one slide but think of it this way: I'm keeping your dietician happy."

Jon quirks a playful brow and leans forward until his lips lightly graze my ear. "You finish your dessert, Angel. I'm going to feast on something far sweeter when we get back to our room."

I press my thighs together under the white linen tablecloth and almost drop my spoon on my nearly empty plate.

He angles his head, so our lips are almost touching. "Do you think the walls are thick in this place?"

I gather the final piece of torte on my spoon, offering it to him, and he casually takes it in one bite. The way his tongue peeks out and licks the underside sends shockwaves to my pussy, and I feel my nipples tighten. "Maybe, it is quite old. Why?"

"Because I want to rock your world tonight."

Oh. God.