Fiery Desire in the Jet

Anna's POV:

Blake stood before me, his blue eyes narrowing.

"Going somewhere?" His voice was dangerously calm.

I straightened my shoulders. "Somewhere without you."

Blake glanced at the suitcase and then back at me, a hint of amusement or disdain flickering at the corner of his mouth—it's always hard to tell with him.

"You think you can live without me? Even if you hired a hundred housekeepers to help you steal my money, it wouldn't put a dent in my pocket change," he said coldly.

"I don't care. Get out of my way," I said, trying to step around Blake.

His movement was lightning-fast. Before I could react, his arm wrapped around my waist.

"Put me down!" I pounded my fists against his back as he carried me through the foyer. "Blake! I'm not joking!"

His only response was to tighten his grip on my legs. In desperation, I bit down on his shoulder.

Blake didn't even flinch. "Are you five years old?"

Tears of frustration streamed down my face as he carried me up the grand staircase. God, I hate crying. It makes me feel weak, especially in front of him.

When we reached the master bedroom, Blake tossed me onto our king-sized bed. Before I could scramble away, he was hovering over me, his hands trapping me on either side.

"Is this about Claire again?" His face was inches from mine.

He leaned down, his lips seeking mine, but I turned my head away.

"Don't touch me!"

Blake pulled back slightly, a flicker of impatience crossing his face. "Have you calmed down yet?"

"No! I don't want to continue this marriage. I want a divorce."

"You want a divorce because I spent extra time with Claire while she was injured?" Blake's voice was incredulous. "Anna, your childishness needs limits."

"Blake, you're a married man. Do you understand what boundaries are?"

His eyes hardened. "You're lecturing me about boundaries? You who practically declared your love at our first meeting?" He ran a hand through his hair.

"Besides, Claire is my sister. We've always been close. If you see a problem with that, maybe you should consider whether you're being overly sensitive."

"If you think so poorly of me, then separating is for the best." I stared out the window thoughtfully, then turned back to him. "Unless you could take me up in your private plane like when you proposed—show me the Boston skyline at night. Maybe that would change my mind."

A muscle twitched in Blake's jaw.

I knew he could easily do this. As CEO of Wright Group, he had every reason to board any plane at any time. After all, their airline was among the top-ranked in America.

An hour later, we stood on the tarmac of Wright Group's private airfield. Blake exchanged a few clipped words with the ground crew before guiding me toward a sleek private jet.

"You're flying it yourself?" I asked, my voice catching slightly as I glanced at him.

"That was the request, wasn't it?" Blake's tone was sharp. As he steadied me into the co-pilot's seat, his fingers brushed my waist, sending a shiver down my spine.

Then the jet roared to life, and we ascended, the glittering sprawl of Boston unfurling beneath us like a sea of shattered diamonds.

Beside me, Blake's profile glowed in the soft light of the instrument panel, his chiseled jaw tight, a faint crease of focus between his brows. It was the same look that had undone me four years ago, the one I'd fallen for so completely.

My mind slipped back to that first night—a charity gala in Boston, Blake commanding the room with a speech about success, his presence magnetic. He'd just taken the reins of Wright Group, lifting it to dazzling new heights.

I'd called it destiny, that instant pull toward him, though I'd later engineered every "chance" encounter that followed. For him, I'd thrown away my medical internship, traded stethoscopes for his ring.

"Satisfied?" Blake's voice cut through my reverie, low with something unreadable.

"Yeah," I murmured, my gaze tracing his features. Despite everything—the fights, the distance—watching him like this softened me, a reluctant ache blooming in my chest.

The landing was smooth, engines quieting to silence. Blake turned to me, his eyes locking with mine, making my breath catch. Something dark and unspoken passed between us before he closed the distance.

When his lips crashed against mine, I felt my mind went blank. His kiss was fierce and demanding. I gasped, angry yet wanting as my body betrayed me, leaning into him despite myself.

His rough hands slipped under my blouse, sending shivers across my skin. He pulled the fabric up and unhooked my bra with practiced ease. My breasts fell free, drawing a deep groan from him as his lips left mine to trace hot kisses down my neck.

"Blake—" I whispered as his teeth grazed my collarbone. His hands cupped me, thumbs circling until I trembled. He pressed me against the cool leather seat, his weight pinning me down.

I tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as he marked the curve of my throat. His ragged breath matched my racing pulse. I felt trapped between worlds—the rational part of me slipping away as instinct took over.

His fingers found me ready, making me moan and arch into his touch. He stroked with knowing precision until I was clutching at him, the cockpit filled with my breathless pleas.

His fingers pressed deeper, relentless, igniting sparks that raced up my spine. I clawed at his shoulders as my hips bucked against his hand. Heat surged, a molten flood searing through every nerve, until my vision blurred.

A shudder ripped through me, violent and uncontainable, my voice breaking into a jagged moan. His grip tightened, holding me through the storm as my body arched, quaking, before collapsing into his arms, spent and pulsing with aftershocks.

Then his phone rang, the jarring ringtone shattering the last remnants of our tension.

Blake swore, pulling back, his chest heaving as he snatched the device from the console. "It's my mom," he muttered, glancing at the screen. The heat in his eyes dimmed.

I sat up, dazed, tugging my blouse back into place as he answered. His voice was curt, the conversation brief. When he hung up, he turned to me. "My mom wants us at the Wright Estate tonight."

"I'll pass," I said, fastening the last button with unsteady fingers. "We're separating anyway."

"Wasn't the flight meant to recreate my proposal? I fulfilled your request, and you still dare mention divorce?" His lips curled into a cold smile.

"Then perhaps I should tell your parents about our divorce plans," I countered.

I'm just being petulant. I know Blake's parents are good to me, and I would never upset them. I'm just trying to provoke him.

"You know very well that my dad's heart condition is serious. Try saying one word about it," Blake's voice hardened as he threatened, his voice cold as ice.