Stealing Emma

Chapter 18 - Hold On, We're Going Home

Max felt his heart lurch in his chest when he saw Emma sitting next to the window seat of the last row of the airplane. Her chocolate brown hair fell down in waves against her tan skin and she wore a loose beige sweater, concealing the curves he now knew of her perfect body.

And of course, some young blood was sitting next to her, trying to make friendly conversation as she stared out the window.

He reached inside his pocket for his first class ticket and placed it in front of junior’s view. “It’s your lucky day, mate,” he told him.

He took the stub from him, his eyes widening as they honed in on the 2A. “I was hoping you would switch seats with me,” Max explained.

“What’s the catch?” he asked suspiciously.

“There is none. Consider it a gift.”

The kid turned to look at Emma, as if outweighing the pros and cons of leaving his seat next to her. In another life Max would have scoffed at him, but in all honesty he couldn’t blame him. He would have done the same as a teenager.

“What will it be, mate?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. He would pay him if he had to, but wasn’t about to give up all his cards yet.

Gratefully the kid stood up, and handed him his ticket. Max shook his hand and thanked him before he took off up the aisle. He would never know just how much he had done for him right then. He would have gladly given up all of his possessions just to have this one moment with her.

Emma looked up at him then, her beautiful green eyes glistening, calling for him. He couldn’t have sat down fast enough in his new seat, which was now even better than first class could ever be. As long as he sat next to her, it was all that really mattered to him. He lifted the armrest in between them and instantly brought her to his chest, one hand wrapping around her hair and the other around her waist.

It felt like he hadn’t seen the sun in days and suddenly he could bask in its glory and breathe again. He had never wanted her more than in this moment, to kiss her, feel her, and tell her how much she meant to him. A paralyzing fear shot through him realizing this could be their last time together.

“Emma, baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he whispered against her hair. He felt wet tears streaking down her face and pulled back to look at her.

“It’s not your fault. Stop saying that,” she whispered, trying to wipe away her tears.

He pulled her hand away, brushing them off with his thumb instead. She was so gorgeous, even when she cried. Looking into her eyes, he recognized that underlying sadness in them and felt his chest tighten. He hadn’t seen it in her all week, but now it was back and full-fledged. It nearly killed him. He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, her chin. Everywhere except where he really wanted to the most, her lips. They were still in New York and he wasn’t about to break the one rule he had somehow managed to keep in the last second.

“Max, we...god, I’m so confused,” she breathed.