Page 83 of Mile High Ruin

He takes advantage of it immediately. His tongue slides over mine, slow and deep, and the heat that had only barely settled in the hospital flares back to life so fast that I forget where we are.

My hand lands on his chest. He’s no longer bare, and I hate I can’t run my fingers over his tattoo. He has changed into another dark shirt, open at the collar because apparently buttons are optional when you’re a billionaire who gets shot often enough to keep spare clothes in multiple locations.

I grip the fabric anyway.

His mouth leaves mine and moves along my jaw.

“Vadim.”

It’s supposed to be a warning, but it doesn’t sound like one.

He kisses the side of my neck, then drags his tongue slowly over the place beneath my ear that he has already discovered makes my knees weak.

A soft moan slips out of me, and his hand tightens at my waist.

“Again.”

I pull back just enough to look at him. “What?”

“That sound.”

Heat rushes into my face. “I didn’t make a sound.”

His pale eyes hold mine. “You did.”

“You imagined it.”

“I don’t have to imagine much with you.”

I should have something clever to say to that, but I don’t.

He kisses me again before I can recover, one hand sliding under the edge of my coat and across my waist until his palm spans my side. His thumb moves upward over the stiff fabric of my blouse, grazing the underside of my breast.

My breath catches, and his hand comes higher. The moment his palm closes over my breast, my entire body responds.

I hate how quickly he has learned me.

His thumb brushes over my nipple through my bra and blouse, and I arch toward him before I can stop myself. “Fuck.”

The word comes out under my breath.

Vadim’s mouth curves against mine. “Very composed and demure, this one.”

I groan. “Shut up.”

“I thought flight attendants were trained not to speak to passengers that way,” he teases.

I hold his gaze. He’s so close that I can see the pools of amber in his eyes. “Only to the insolent ones.”

His hand squeezes my breast.

I gasp. “That was rude.”

“You deserved it.”

“Probably.”

His mouth moves back to my neck, and the argument dissolves almost immediately. He kisses slowly this time, not rushing, lips warm against my skin while his hand continues working over my breast in steady, deliberate strokes.