It did not take an hour to get from DTC to DIA.
From taking his seat in the waiting area prior to boarding to right then, having been sitting in his seat in first class for the last twenty minutes, he’d texted her three times and phoned once.
He got nothing.
His neck was not itching.
He was coming out of his skin.
They’d made their plans together, bought their tickets separately, and had chosen their adjoining seats on their respective laptops pressed up next to each other at his bar twenty-three hours and forty-nine minutes ago.
Now he was getting nothing.
He looked back to his phone in his hand when it beeped with a text. He pulled it up immediately.
It wasn’t a text from Liv. It was a text from Sylvie.
Knight’s men clean. Not a surprise. Your boys clean. Again no surprise. Focus now is on the Feds.
As he suspected.
It was good to have it confirmed. It would be fucking great to know, finally, who fucked him and Hettie from the inside.
He didn’t reply to Sylvie. He also didn’t send another text to Olivia.
He sent one to his boy who was on her.
Where’s my woman?
The reply came quickly.
Peeled off fifteen minutes ago when she hit the door to DIA. She had no tail so I thought she was good. She’s not with you?
His thumb ready to move on his phone, his head snapped up when he heard a soft, delicate, winded, “I made it!”
He saw Olivia, looking flushed and flustered, smiling apologetically at the flight attendant as she rushed around the corner into the aisle.
Her eyes came to him.
Her smile got bigger.
He slid out of his seat and did it frowning at her.
Not only at her, at the fact she was late, smiling like she hadn’t scared the shit out of him, and last, she had no luggage with her.
“Hey, sweetheart,” she greeted as she made her way to him. Reaching him, she put her hand to his abs and stretched up for a kiss.
He continued to frown down at her so her smile wavered, her eyes grew confused and she aimed her kiss at his jaw.
She slid into her seat while the flight attendant gave the announcement they soon would be closing the door.
He sat and texted Casey, She’s here, all good.
He then turned to his girl.
“You gonna wear that outfit all weekend?” he asked as Olivia tucked her purse under the seat in front of her.
She straightened, grabbing her seatbelt and looking to him.
“Sorry?”
“Babe,” he grunted. “Luggage.”
“I checked it.”
He stared at her.
“That’s why I’m late,” she explained. “Traffic on 225. Just a semi off the road, but everyone had to slow down to gawk. Then I had to check my bag.”
“You think to return my texts so I didn’t worry?” he asked.
“I told you I was on my way and you know I don’t text and drive, Nick,” she retorted, her attention to her lap as she clicked her belt. Done with that, she again looked to him. “And calling you or texting you would have delayed me getting to you.”
“Checking your bag delayed you too.”
She shook her head in abbreviated shakes, like a head shudder, indicating she found what he said distasteful.
Her tone stated the same thing when she decreed, “I don’t do carry-ons.”
“Liv, we’re gonna be gone two days.”
At that, she stared at him.
Then she lifted a hand in a sweep up her front, ending with a flourish around her head, and asked with incredulity, “Do you think this happens with security allowances of carry-on liquids?”
Nick felt his body jerk.
Then he burst out laughing.
“No,” she snapped through his laughter. “It doesn’t. One day. Two. Three. It doesn’t matter. I’d have to be gone an hour to do carry-on.”
Still laughing, he caught her by the neck, pulled her to him and took her mouth in a deep kiss.
She kissed him back just as deeply.
Even so, when he lifted his head away, she declared, “That was a much better, ‘Hello, Livvie. I’m excited for our weekend away.’”
“Hello, baby. I’m fuckin’ ecstatic about our weekend away.”
Her mouth quirked and she murmured, “That works too.”
He smiled at her.
Her mouth stopped quirking and she smiled back.
The plane started reversing from the gate and the flight attendant began the safety address.
* * * * *
7:45 – Vegas Time
“I hope you’re hungry,” Olivia said while wandering into their suite at the Cosmopolitan, Nick following, his carry-on over his shoulder, rolling her huge-ass piece of luggage. “Because I’m famished and I need to inspect that Swarovski chandelier much closer, hopefully doing it holding a cocktail…oh!”
The oh! was due to the fact he’d dumped their shit, and when she got close to the bed, he’d thrown her on it.
He didn’t delay in shoving up her skirt.
“Nick, sweetheart, I’m hungry.”
Chest to the bed, hips over the side, he pushed her legs open, looking to her to see she’d lifted up on her elbows.
“So am I.”
“But, Nicky, I’m really hungry,” she whispered in that voice of hers, words he didn’t give a shit about but he still felt them in his dick.
He took hold of the gusset of her panties and twisted them aside.
Her eyes went hooded and her legs melted open.
“So am I,” he growled in repeat.
She made no reply.
He dropped his mouth.
Her head fell back.
Nick ate first.
He fed his woman later.