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With a small laugh, she reached back again, unclasped her bra, and slid the straps off her shoulders one at a time. Tossing her bra near her shirt, she said, “Ahh, that’s so much better.”
His hands made fists as he ground out, “How long does it take to reach safe cruising altitude?”
Fluttering her lashes, she gazed down and said, “Oh, look. My nipples are hard.”
“Fuck my life.”
“They’re so hard.” She arched her back. “Cole, they’re aching.”
“Maybe you should touch them,” he suggested in a strained voice, running a hand roughly over his stubble.
“Like this?” she asked, circling two fingers over her right nipple.
“Yeah, like that.” He bit his lower lip. “You can pinch them a little too. If you want to.”
“Pinch them? But won’t that hurt?”
He scrubbed both hands over his face now. “No, it won’t hurt,” he said through his fingers. “Just don’t do it too hard.”
She made a show of pinching her nipples, softly at first, then a little harder, twisting gently. “You’re right. That does feel good. Really good. I wonder if this would feel good too?” Cupping her right breast, she lifted its warm weight, brought her tongue to her nipple, and licked it.
“God help me,” he said harshly, shifting in his seat again. Raising his gaze to the console above her head, he warned, “God helpyouwhen that light goes off.”
“Why?” she asked, sliding her other hand between her legs. “Are you going to do something to me?”
When he opened his mouth to respond, two dings rang through the cabin. The seat belt light clicked off, and Cole was on her, his lips around her nipple, sucking hard, his fingers rolling her other nipple between them, making her moan.
When she reached for her own buckle, he grasped her wrists in his hands, holding her still. “Don’t you dare,” he growled. “That comes off only when I want it to.”
If Mira wanted to object—which she didn’t—she couldn’t find the words, her head dropping back to her headrest when his dove between her legs.
“Shit,” she hissed, burying her hands in his hair, bucking while he kissed and licked her through too many layers of fabric.
Raising his head, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her pants and, with a wicked grin, said, “You were teasing me, weren’t you?”
“I—”
With a swift tug, he pulled her pants down over her hips, effectively cutting off any flimsy excuse she might have come up with.
When she jerked against the seat belt holding her down, he gave her a warning look, then pulled it tighter, making it so snug it was just shy of painful. Now she could barely move, couldn’t escape the white-hot sensation of his fingertip ghosting up and down her seam. “Hmm,” he hummed. “Should I tease you back?”
She was so keyed up, so turned on, that all he’d have to do was lick her once, and she’d come. But, like he knew exactly how close she was, he pulled his finger away, not touching her, only staring between her legs for a long moment, long enough for her to calm down, just a little, just enough. Then he gazed up at her and, with steady, unwavering eye contact, said, “No, I don’t think I should,” and pushed a finger inside her, and then another. While her legs fell open and her eyes fell closed, he surrounded her clit with his lips, sucking and licking and swirling his tongue while he pumped his fingers in and out of her so quickly she had to bite her fist to keep from screaming.
Through the heavy haze of release, she felt her buckle click free, strong arms wrapping around her, lowering her carefully to the ground. When she forced her eyes open again, she was on her back, Cole tense and hovering above her, heat pouring from his body into hers.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t wait,” he said, rising up to kneel between her legs, unbuttoning his jeans, releasing his zipper, his hard cock tenting his boxers until he pushed them down. Stroking himself once, then twice, he said, “I need you, Mira. I’m out of my mind.”
Reaching around his hips, she urged him closer, because she needed him too. His weight, his firm muscles, his warm skin sliding against hers. While their gazes locked, he braced himself on straight arms, and she reached between their bodies, guiding him into her.
Sliding deep in one even thrust, he moaned, dropped to his elbows, kissed her neck, her throat, her jaw, his hips setting a brain-scrambling rhythm. It was all so blisteringly hot. She wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d steamed up the airplane windows. But then something changed. Like flames giving way to glowing embers, the fire between their bodies simmered, his thrusts slowing, his hands rising to cradle her face between them, his lips lowering to hers. He kissed her deeply, his hips rolling sweetly, his hand leaving her face to slide reverently down the side of her body, and pressure swelled behind her eyes.
“Cole,” she gasped, curling her fingers into his lower back, trying to get him to speed up, to thrust harder, because what he was doing, it wasn’t fair. This, his forehead pressing lightly against hers, his steady, hooded gaze searing her skin, his soft kisses brushing over the corners of her mouth, this wasn’t sex. This wasn’t their deal. This was making love.
“Please, don’t,” she said, tears gathering under her closed lids. She’d thought she was ready, but she was wrong, because the only thing coursing through her now was fear. The day with him had been wonderful, one she’d never forget, but it didn’t change their situation. They needed to talk about things, so many things, before they could take this step, before she could let him give himself to her like this. Before she could give herself back. “Please.”
He raised his head, staring down at her, pleading, “Mira.”
“I can’t. Cole, I can’t.”
