I stare out the window of the plane, watching the clouds drift by. My thoughts are a mess of emotions. Leaving Emma is harder than I thought it would be, and I knew it was going to be hard.

But damn, leaving her behind is a pain I never thought possible.

I sigh, leaning back in my chair. The flight is going to be a long one. I reach for the in-flight magazine, needing something to distract me.

"Would you like a beverage, sir?" the flight attendant asks, her smile wide and cheerful.

"Yes, please. Bourbon, neat," I reply, forcing a smile.

She nods, pouring me a glass. She sets it on my tray table.

"Can I get you anything else?" she asks, her tone polite.

"No, thank you," I reply, picking up the glass and taking a sip.

The liquid burns going down, but I relish the feeling. I need the distraction.

The flight continues on, the hours dragging by.

When the plane finally lands, I'm relieved. I gather my things and make my way off the plane, heading for baggage claim.

I grab my luggage and head out to the parking garage, climbing into my rental car. I text Emma before I even buckle. I want to call her, but I don't know where she is or what she's doing. I don't even know what time it is. I need to figure out these time zones. I wait a few minutes, but she doesn't text back.

The drive home is quick, and soon, I'm pulling into my driveway. I don't even want to go inside, knowing how empty it is. I miss her. God, I miss her. I miss her so much that it physically hurts. I check my phone again. No text.

I take a deep breath and force myself out of the car. I carry my luggage into the house, the silence deafening. When had I gotten so used to someone being around? I've never been like this. I'm a man of short lived flings and one night stands. Not a man who wants to come home to the same woman every night.

But now that I know her, have felt her, the thought of being alone or with anyone else doesn't appeal to me. The thought of being with anyone other than her makes my stomach turn.

I make my way to the kitchen, my heart heavy. I grab a beer and sit down on the couch, opening the bottle.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I quickly pull it out, hoping it's a text from Emma. But it's just an email notification. Something from work. I put my phone down and take a swig of my beer.

The emptiness of the house is suffocating, and I find myself checking my phone every few minutes, hoping for a text from Emma. But there's nothing.

I was supposed to go to the office when I landed, but honestly, the last thing I want to do is be around people. It's only noon here, the time change still messing with my head. I text my secretary and tell her to reschedule the meetings. I'll be in tomorrow.

I finish my beer and head upstairs to unpack. It's the least productive thing I could do, but it's the only thing keeping me busy. I take my time, sorting through my clothes and putting them away. I hang up the few suits I brought with me.

The whole time, my mind is on Emma. I wonder what she's doing, how her day is going. If she's missing me as much as I'm missing her. I check our time diffrences. It's now one here, which means it's only four where Emma is. Why hasn't she text me back? Maybe I should call her. No, she's probably busy.

I try not to think about the fact that she hasn't text me back. That she's not missing me as much as I miss her. But no matter what, I can't stop thinking about her.

By the time I'm done, it's only three. I sigh, plopping down on the bed. The room is silent, and it's starting to drive me crazy. I pick up my phone, the screen lighting up. Still no text from Emma.

I toss the phone aside and run a hand through my hair. What the hell is wrong with me? I can't focus, can't think straight. All I can think about is her. Her face, her voice, her body. God, her body.

I close my eyes, picturing her. Her curves, her soft skin, her full breasts.

I feel a stirring in my pants, and I groan. This is ridiculous. How can one woman have such an effect on me?

I open my eyes and stand up, pacing the room. I need to do something. I can't just sit here, obsessing over Emma.

I decide to go for a run. Yes, a run. Exercise. Physical exertion. That's what I need. I change into a pair of running shorts and a t-shirt, slipping on my sneakers.

I step outside, the sun shining down on me. It's a nice day, a little humid, but the fresh air is welcome.

I stretch, taking a deep breath. I set off, jogging down the street. I keep a steady pace, my feet hitting the pavement rhythmically.

The run does help, a bit. My thoughts are still all over the place, but at least my body is moving. And it's a distraction.

I push myself, running until my legs burn and my lungs ache. I stop, bending over and resting my hands on my knees.

I take a few deep breaths, trying to catch my breath. I can feel the sweat dripping down my face, and I wipe it away with the back of my hand.

I straighten up, stretching my back.

As the endorphins rush through my system, I start to feel a bit better. At least the physical exertion has distracted me, even if it's only temporary.

I walk back to the house, my muscles sore.

I make my way to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water and chugging it. I can't remember the last time I went for a run.

I strip out of my sweaty clothes, tossing them into the hamper. I turn on the shower, letting the water heat up.

The hot water feels good, soothing my aching muscles.

I lean my head against the tile wall, closing my eyes. The image of Emma comes to mind.

Her body. Her perfect, beautiful body.

I can't help but imagine her in the shower with me. Her hands running over my skin, her lips on mine.

Fuck, the run didn't distract me as much as I thought it would.

I groan, feeling my cock harden. I can't help it. My hand trails down, wrapping around my length.

I start to stroke, images of Emma flashing through my mind.

Her curves, her smooth skin, her full lips.

I tighten my grip, my movements faster.

I picture her naked, her perfect body on display for me. Her nipples hard and begging for my touch.

I pump my cock, my movements frantic. I can see her wet pussy, ready for me. Begging for me.

"Emma," I groan, my release spilling over my fingers.

I let out a shaky breath, bracing myself against the shower wall.

I feel better, but not really. It doesn't take away the ache in my chest. The loneliness.

I clean myself up and finish showering. When I get out, I towel dry my hair and put on some sweats.

I need to eat, but the thought of cooking is overwhelming. Instead, I order pizza.

I sit down on the couch, the silence deafening.

I grab my laptop and turn it on, logging into my work email. There's a slew of new messages, and I start sifting through them. Both Charles and Edward have sent me multiple emails, since their texts and calls have gone unanswered.

They know I found out where the missing money has gone, but they're mad because I won't tell them anything. Yes, I'm pissed at Archer for stealing from me, but I'm not about to sell him out to my partners. I know they would take legal action. They wouldn't hesitate.

I'm not a vindictive man, but damn, the temptation is there. I don't like being lied to or stolen from.

But Archer is family.

So, for now, I'm staying quiet.