Halfway through the movie, my eyes grow heavier, and I find myself leaning my head to rest on hers to get more comfortable. I Inhale a bunch of that floral scent from her hair, letting it lull me to a near sleep. I won’t let myself truly rest. I can’t risk it with her brother this close.
This is the worst possible situation. It was supposed to die in that hotel room. End there. This doesn’t feel like an end.
I’m convinced she’s sleeping until she turns her head on my shoulder to look up at me. Her face is so close, it’s impossible to ignore. I meet her eyes, her lids tired and heavy.
“We’re still in Canadian air,” she whispers.
I search her eyes. “I don’t think we are.”
“The air in this cabin is still Canadian, then.”
“Ari,” I mumble, shaking my head.
“Please?” she asks, her eyes darting to my lips.
It takes half a second for me to cave. It’s the way she asks so nicely. The hint of begging in her tone. Irresistible. So irresistible it should be criminal.
I slowly lower my mouth to hers, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. It lingers, but it doesn’t deepen. Nothing racy, nothing too far. Like that makes it any better. She lets out a little breath of relief, not daring to take it any further.
I slowly pull away, and she doesn’t stop me, but she doesn’t move from my shoulder either. She stays close.
Our eyes burn into each other. Memories from last night flood through me. Ideas of what could happen if we did it again. I’m hard, from just a couple of seconds of contact and the way she’s looking at me. It’s like I have the power to completely unravel her by just looking at her, and that is way too intoxicating of a feeling.
She swallows, but doesn’t look away. She reaches forward to slide her fingers through mine instead. I shoot her a look of disapproval, but let her do it anyway. I always fucking let her. We sit with her head on my shoulder and watch the movie, her fingers intertwined with mine. I should pull away. I know that. But I don’t.
I can’t.
At one point, she lifts the armrest upright to get closer. After a few more minutes, she pulls my hand toward her, under the sweater draped over her lap, and guides me between her legs.
I whirl on her, eyes wide. “What are you doing?”
She meets my eyes and I almost groan. Feral need. That’s what I see on her face. Pupils blown, breathing heavy, her cheeks pink. She’s overwhelmingly turned on right now and she is desperate. Desperate enough to try this on a plane.
“Boston, I—” Shame hits her face as she shakes her head, but she’s squeezing the life out of my hand like it’s a liferaft.
I risk a look up toward Fork. Still not visible. Still asleep. The crew remains at the front of the plane. The seats across the row are empty. I swallow, looking back at her face, aching at the sight of it.
Fuck, this is a nightmare.
Fuck, I could die thinking about how she felt last night.
I open my mouth to deny her, but she’s trembling against me. Shaking. I have never once seen a woman need to get off this badly. We needed twenty-four hours in that hotel room to get this out of our system. The few we were given were not enough.
“Come closer,” I order quietly. She shimmies toward me instantly and I pull her tightly to my side, taking up a more casual position. I drape her oversized sweater over her lap and let it fall over my leg a bit, like I’m also using it for warmth. I rest my cheek against her head and bring my mouth close to her ear. “Watch the movie.”
Her eyes snap to the screen, her breathing still heavy.
I guide our hands between her legs. She opens for me slightly, just enough to give me room. I feel her warmth through her leggings, beckoning me. It takes everything in me not to groan, knowing that she got this hot and bothered from one kiss. I swallow, pressing my fingers to her over her clothes. She buries her face in my sweater, letting out a breath of relief as my fingers slowly work her as best as I can.
She’s soaked. I can tell, despite not touching her skin-to-skin. It’s immensely clear that she didn’t ask me for this until it became unbearable. I stop each time she starts to writhe or move, because what we’re doing is very fucking illegal and very fucking stupid. She needs to stay still and get off. That’s it. As fast as she can. I press harder, feeling her bite softly into my shoulder.
I curse, swallowing heavily.
“A little wider,” I whisper. She obliges me. I use the heel of my hand to put enough pressure where she needs it and a small little whimper leaves her mouth. “None of that. Use me as a muzzle if you need to.”
She buries her face in the fabric of my hoodie again.
When her hand snaps to my wrist, I know she’s close. I glance down at her and she must feel the weight of my gaze, because she moves her head enough to look up at me.
