Slower this time.
Her hips grind against my cock, and the friction nearly pulls a curse out of me loud enough for the whole cabin.
I grip the sink on either side of her, caging her in without touching her.
“Do you understand what you’re doing?”
In the mirror, her cheeks burn.
“Yes.”
“You’re sure, kitten?”
Her hands come down over mine where I brace against the sink. Her fingers curl around my knuckles.
“I want this,” she whispers. “I want you.”
This is my last chance to stop. But I don’t take it.
I turn her back around and kiss her so hard her shoulders hit the wall. She melts into it, into me, into the kiss, her hands dragging down my chest, fumbling with my belt.
I catch her wrists.
Her eyes flash. “Roman.”
“Slowly.”
“No.”
The word is soft, but it’s the first truly disobedient thing she has said.
And God help me, I like it.
She pulls one hand free and presses her palm over my cock through my trousers.
My vision darkens at the edges.
She feels the size of me. The heat. The hard, heavy ache she has caused. Her lips part as if the reality of it shocks her.
Then she strokes me.
Once. Badly. Clumsily. Perfectly.
My hand slams against the wall beside her head.
“Don’t start something you cannot finish.”
Her eyes lift to mine. “I’m tired of not finishing things.”
That does it.
I grab her hips and pull her against me, grinding myself into the cradle of her body. She gasps, and I take her mouth again before the sound can travel. My tongue slides against hers. Her hands are everywhere now, in my hair, on my shoulders, dragging at my shirt like she hates the fabric for existing.
The plane dips slightly.
She stumbles.
I catch her, turn us, and pin her carefully between my body and the counter. She laughs breathlessly into my mouth, and the sound is so unexpected, so alive, that something inside me twists.
