Neither of us reacts—we both fly too frequently for a bit of turbulence to cause a stir.
‘How about you?’ She angles her face towards mine, her eyes sweeping across my face thoughtfully.
‘What about me?’ The question is a little gruff.
‘I gather you’re a card-carrying member of the mile-high club?’
I wonder at my hesitation to admit that. ‘Does that bother you?’
Her smile shifts something beneath my ribcage. ‘Nope. Not at all. I’d expect as much from someone like you.’ I wonder why that bothers me. She leans a little closer, reaches for my wrist and turns it over so she can see the time on my watch. ‘Besides, in about two hours and forty minutes I don’t ever plan on seeing you again.’
There’s something perfect about that. I love one-night stands. I love the impermanence of it, I love great sex, I love knowing there are no expectations to follow. Two and a half hours sounds like just about enough of Cora for me.
I grin, reaching across and pulling her shirt out of the waistband of her pants. ‘Seeing as you don’t technically work for me, I really think we should get you out of this uniform.’
Her laugh is soft, like leaves on the breeze. ‘I don’t have any problem with that, but I’m going to insist on a little privacy.’
I look around. ‘Do you see someone I don’t?’
‘No, but I’m very aware there are other people on this flight and they’re likely to walk in at any point. Public sex isn’t really my thing.’
In truth, I don’t want to share this with anyone else either. I’d prefer to know we’re not going to be interrupted.
‘And we’re stuck here until the captain says otherwise,’ she says, pretending to ponder this.
I make a gruff noise of agreement.
‘So how do we keep ourselves busy?’
Her smile shows me she has her own thoughts on this, and a second later she’s moving her head closer, her lips seeking mine. I freeze, instantly rejecting what she’s doing.
I don’t kiss. I mean, ever. It’s too... I don’t know. Too something. But she doesn’t realise and I don’t react quickly enough so her lips press to mine, her tongue flicking tentatively into my mouth, exploring, wondering, questioning, and I’m frozen, my lips her willing captives, my body tense, but gradually relaxing as bit by bit her proximity and her kiss eat away at my usual boundaries so—to my surprise—I’m kissing her back, tasting her sweetness in my mouth and, miraculously, wanting more.
I groan, lifting a hand and gripping the back of her head, holding her right where she is, my tongue duelling with hers, my body pressing forward so that even with our seat belts I’m close to her. Somehow, the fact I can’t pull her on top of me like I want to only
serves to enhance the eroticism of this, like she’s forbidden fruit or something, frustratingly out of reach. I want her, I know I’ll have her, but being kept at a distance is a strange form of torture—only torture’s never felt so good.
* * *
I can’t remember the last time I just kissed a guy. I mean, really kissed him. Like made out in that teenager way of just exploring each other’s mouths, feeling each other’s responses, breathing someone deep into your lungs so they take over your body cell by cell. It’s so easy to get straight to sex but kissing Holden is stirring me to a fever-pitch of wanting. Our hands are barely involved. He’s holding my head like he doesn’t want me to move away from him but, other than that, we’re not touching. It’s just our lips melded together, our mouths moving with the same ferocity, the same urgent need.
I barely hear the captain’s announcement over the PA—that we’ve cleared the turbulence—but Holden must because his hands reach for my buckle, undoing it and then freeing his, before pulling me onto his lap so my legs are straddling him and his cock is right where I need it. Inwardly I curse Eve and her naked shame, because clothing seems like an impossible cruelty now and I wish it had never been invented.
‘Let’s take this to the bedroom.’
I’m so hot, so wet. I push up to standing, my knees unsteady, straightening my shirt on autopilot, even when I anticipate being naked any minute now. His eyes catch the gesture and his lopsided smile shows he’s thinking the same thing I am.
‘Good morning, Mr Hart. I’ve got a coffee here for you.’
My heart moves to my throat. I whirl around, sure my face must show a thousand shades of guilt when I see Edward standing looking at us both.
His eyes reveal not a thing, but how could he not realise what we’ve just been doing? My cheeks flame pink and, despite the thousand and one reasons I had for not caring about what we were about to do, suddenly I feel a dizzying sense of relief that common sense interrupted—in the form of Edward—before I let things go too far.
‘Excuse me.’ I barely blink in Holden’s direction before striding from the cabin, my blood rushing so fast it’s all I can hear.
CHAPTER THREE
Two hours out of Sydney