Intercepted (Page 49)

“Bossy,” he says, but I can feel his body shaking with laughter on mine. “But if you insist.”

I pull off my shirt and bra, throwing them over my head to join my leggings, and push my breasts against his bare chest. “I insist.”

His breath hitches and I watch as his blue eyes turn navy. Then, without a word, he picks me up and flips us around so he’s in my seat. He positions me just so and when I drop my hips down, he’s inside of me, filling me completely.

“Oh my god,” I breathe into his throat.

Even though we’ve done this multiple times now, it still takes me a minute to adjust to his size. Gavin never rushes me. He lets me take my time while his hands draw circles on my back.

Once the small bite of pain fades, an urgent, throbbing need replaces it.

Up and down.

Slowly at first, I begin to move.

Up.

Down.

Gavin’s hands drop beneath my ass, lifting me to the very tip of his erection, then letting me drop.

I start moving faster, harder. Taking as much of him as I can.

“Fuck yes.” Gavin encourages me with a strained voice. The need in his voice only makes my need for him grow.

He drops his free hand between my legs and starts rubbing delicious circles while I rock my hips, keeping him deep inside of me.

It sneaks up on me this time.

I clench around him and a soundless scream rips from the back of my throat. Gavin tenses underneath me. His fingernails dig into my back and even though I can’t see it, I know tomorrow there will still be scratches as a reminder of this moment.

My body, still trembling and glistening with sweat (being on top is a legitimate workout), collapses down onto Gavin. I rest my forehead on his, willing my breathing to calm, but when his lips move to touch mine, I know it’s a lost cause.

“That.” Deep breath. “Was.” Deeper breath. “Amazing.” Exhale.

“It always is.” Gavin’s mouth curves into a cocky smile. “Champagne and then ready to go again?”

Is he insane? Again?!

“Absolutely.”

#MileHighClubInitiation

* * *

• • •

SINCE WE DIDN’T fly over the mountains, all I know is we flew east.

We step off the plane and the first thing I notice is the cold. Not the dry, easy-to-deal-with cold I’m used to, but the wet, sink-to-your-bones, never-feel-warm-again cold you can only get when you’re near a large body of water.

Now, maybe if I hadn’t indulged in the rest of the champagne or my mind wasn’t still focused on the new mouth and finger combination Gavin came up with on the plane, I would’ve put two and two together. I would’ve come to the fairly obvious conclusion that we were in New York before we walked out of the front door of the small airport and straight into the smiling faces of Thompson and Elizabeth Pope.

But I don’t.

I put my best plastic smile on my face, push everything Madison told me about them to the back of my mind, and try to pull myself together to meet his parents.

“Mom . . . Dad . . . what are you guys doing here? What happened to the driver I hired?” Gavin sounds as surprised as I feel.

Oh thank goodness. I’m not gonna lie, if his idea of a good surprise was meeting his parents after a long flight, I was going to be a little concerned about our future.

“You can’t expect we’d let some driver see you before us.” Her eyebrows go up as her attention shifts toward me. “We weren’t aware you’d be bringing a guest though.”

“Mom. I told you about Marlee.”

“Oh yes. Marlee. The one who got you injured.”

No. Nope. Never. Get me back on the plane, I’m going home.

“Mom!” Gavin yells at the same time his dad bursts into laughter.

“I’m kidding, Gavin. Always so serious.” Mrs. Pope pats him on the arm and turns her somewhat appraising gaze toward me. “We’ve heard so much about you, Marlee. When his sister called to tell us Gavin was bringing you, we knew we had to rush to meet you before he hid you away for the rest of your visit.”

“Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Pope,” I force out. Never in my life have I been more aware of my less-than-desirable appearance. “I’ve heard so much about you and your family.”

“Sorry, Gavin. I tried to talk her out of it, but you know how your mom gets when she wants something.” Thompson Pope, if I may say, is so freaking handsome. If he’s any indication of how well Gavin is going to age, sticking around is now mandatory.

Gavin doesn’t say anything in return. He just nods and runs a hand through his hair.

“Honey. I don’t understand this hair. Can’t you get a haircut? Remember the one you had in high school? You looked so handsome.”

“I’ve been bugging him to get a haircut for the last month and he won’t give in,” I tattle. “I guess he likes the Jesus do he’s got going.”

Gavin groans, I stifle a laugh, and if I’m not mistaken, Mrs. Pope’s smile becomes a little more genuine.

“Well, get in the car, you two.” She claps her hands. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Gavin grabs our luggage to put in the trunk and when he does, his mom slides into the back seat, motioning for me to sit next to her. I hesitate for a moment, worried about the proximity in relation to me having sex hair and possibly smelling like alcohol, but I get in anyway. Better to be thought of as a nice floozy than a bitchy one.

“Don’t you dare turn on rap, Pope.” I poke his shoulder when I see him reach for the radio. “You know this is my favorite song.”

“This is my favorite song too!” Mrs. Pope says about the country music filling the car. “What other songs of his do you like?”

After we’ve successfully matched our top five favorite songs, I think I’ve won Mrs. Pope over. #SaintLukeBryan

* * *

• • •

AFTER GAVIN GETS into the front seat, following a string of hushed words about big-mouthed sisters and pushy moms, we slowly make our way across Long Island to a little city named Oyster Bay.

Gavin had told me before he was from here, but I could never picture it.

Now I know why. I wasn’t able to imagine how a town so close to one of the largest cities in the world could still be so charming and peaceful.

I love it and the only thing better than the scenery is the company.

I was nervous to meet Gavin’s parents, and after everything Madison had spit at me, I was straight-up petrified.

But now, meeting them at last, I couldn’t love them more. Mrs. Pope—or Beth as she keeps telling me to call her—is my favorite. If I didn’t love my parents so much and it didn’t make the guy I’m sleeping with my brother, I would ask her to adopt me.

To pass time as we’re stuck in traffic, Beth chats my ear off, filling me in on stories of Gavin’s past. Like when he was four and refused to go to the bathroom in the house and would run to the backyard every time he had to go. And the time he got suspended from school because a boy was picking on his sister, Emerson, so he went to her class and refused to leave until the boy apologized. It’s creepy to swoon over middle school Gavin, isn’t it?

“Is this your home?” I ask Mrs. Pope when we reach the end of the long, tree-lined driveway.

“No, this is Gavin’s. Isn’t it adorable? And wait until you walk around the property. It has access to the water. It’s cold now, but during summer, it’s really very lovely.”