A Perfect Stitch

Chapter 33 | obsessively playing house

Magnificent was one word to describe the interior design and outstanding modern facilities of this airport.

Subway terminal trains rode travelers through all terminals, not forgetting the exquisite moving walkways beating Brussels escalators hands down.

One step out of John F Kennedy International Airport, my organs froze due to a severe breeze, sending shivers down my spine.

My hands scampered over my arms and pulled the sleeves of my gown.

Wind, sprinting from a distance, blew my hair, smashing the sweet aroma of New York City to my face.

It was so cold and distinct.

"What's the delay for? Stick this into your slow brain, 'time is running out of my side, and if you waste any more minutes staring at whatsoever damned stuff you best know, then count me gone without you,' Get here now, Mrs. Horton. "

Amid strange individuals scrambling through the numerous steps which lead to the outdoor parking lot, Dwain's scolding snatched up my thoughts and brought my focus to his pissed face.

Large dark circles spread under his eyes and unkempt locks of hair brushed his face.

So awful, this guy was suffering from insomnia, at least robots did sleep.

Ignoring the grin on his lips and letting my hair whip in the wind, my pace slowed down as I walked down the stairs.

"Great, you might as well catwalk to a cab down the street." He laid his jacket to rest over his shoulder and supported his briefcase in one hand, fast-forwarding his steps out of my sight. "See you when we meet again."

"Dwain, Dwain. . . Stupid, stupid, stupid, " I grumbled under my breath and hurried after him, fumbling in between strangers for an easy descent.

What did I think?

That he would carry me in his arms and force me down these stairs as he did yesterday?

Shit!

He didn't even add a, 'please,' to his requests and he walked out of me.

"Asshole," I hissed.

Catching up to his steps and holding my breath in place, my hand sped to my chest; pushing in the rapid rise and fall taking place. "Don't you think your request is kinda selfish without,' please, ' in it?"

I stopped talking for a split second and smiled at my next words. "Tasha will know about this."

He didn't spare me a single glance, but for his backside which stared me in the face.

Either his appointment had way more priority or my words weren't gross enough to steal his attention.

I gasped when he swirled around and shot me his boyish smile.

"Take sides with Tasha and let's see who gets burned first."

"Is that a threat?"

"Your understanding flatters me."

"Hey!"

My husband placed a finger on my lips and lowered his face to mine, trapping my flickering eyes in his stare.

With the intense gaze he cast on me, my heart lashed my chest like a diesel engine, almost perforating my breastbone.

Words stifled at my throat as his finger slightly deepened, and then came a brisk throat noise.

"Excuse me, Sir, here are the keys to your car."

Raising a brow at me and letting his finger slip to his pants, only his heavy release of breath brought me out of the last moment.