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He looked down at me and smiled. “I’ve missed you.”
He ran his hand through my hair, carefully untangling the strands and I closed my eyes at the sensation, stretching my legs out across the bench seat until my toes hit the cool exterior wall. The plane rocked a little, and I felt my stomach pitch in response. I put a hand on my belly. I should have skipped the pork rinds on the drive over.
“Where are we going?”
“Good question.” He shifted a little underneath me, and I almost mewled in pleasure when the tips of his fingers gently ran across my scalp. “I don’t know where to go. I haven’t been back home since—since Gwen died.” His fingers stopped their journey, and I looked up at him.
“I can’t go back in that penthouse. She’s everywhere in it. And I can’t even stand to be in the building. With what almost happened to you...” He shook his head. “It’s tainted.”
“But you have other homes, right? Somewhere else you can stay?”
He nodded, his eyes on me. “Yeah. We own—”
He stopped and swore, pulling his gaze away from me and looking out the window, the night sky illuminating the unshaved line of his jaw. I’d never seen him with facial hair before, and I reached up, running my fingers along the soft scruff of it. I watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed, control shuttering back over his features.
“I,” he amended quietly. “There’s a dozen other properties I own, hotels and casinos. Finding a suite isn’t a problem. But I’d rather find something without a history. Someplace we can stay that’s secure, at least to ride out the next few weeks.”
I pushed myself off of his lap and into an upright position.
“You want to move in together?”
He had the audacity to look hurt. “You don’t?”
“I—”
I didn’t know what I wanted. I didn’t want to be apart from him but wanted my independence. Moving in with him seemed like a giant step forward in a relationship that was barely past infancy. I pointed this out, and he frowned.
“I think we passed infancy back in San Diego. And with everything that has happened since...” He reached out and pulled me closer, lifting me onto his lap.
My head brushed against the top of the ceiling and I ducked a little, laughing despite myself. “This plane isn’t exactly designed for canoodling.”
He pulled on my neck, brought my mouth to his, and I forgot my next words. My mouth opened—hungry—and he met my tongue with his. God, he knew how to kiss. He dominated me while still teasing, his hand digging into my hair, holding my head in place as he gently sucked on my lip, bruised over my tender skin and soothed it all with one talented swipe of his tongue. I relaxed into his hold, trusting him, needing him, each kiss another stitch holding me together.
I needed more. More touching, more contact, more of him. I broke away from his kiss and glanced over my shoulder. Behind us, a row of seats faced backward, the back of the pilot’s head was visible just past the headrests. I returned my attention to him, reaching down and pulling at the soft waistband of his workout pants.
He read my mind and shook his head at me, his eyes growing darker. I slid my hand under the fabric, along the hot surface of his skin, and smiled when my fingers made contact with his cock. He hissed when I gripped him, already hard, already needy—a status that only fueled my intent. I worked my fist along his shaft and watched the drug of arousal steal over his features. Yes.
“Bell...” He whispered my name, and it was both a plea and a protest. I ignored the protest and slid my grip to the base of his shaft, admiring the length and girth of it. God, he was beautiful. His thick shaft, a smooth, perfect head, and the ability to swell and stiffen at just the touch of my fingers.
“I need this,” I whispered.
It was stupid of me to wear jeans. I should have been like him, in loose pants that could quickly be pulled away. Instead, I had on skinny jeans that would take a surgical team to peel off.
“I’ve missed this.” I leaned forward, and he lifted his chin to meet me, this kiss slower, his mouth distracted with the increased action of my hand. I broke away and glanced back at the pilot.
“Ignore him. Kiss me again.”
I didn’t argue. I leaned forward and met his lips, feeling the catch of his breath when I rolled my thumb over his head.
The plane continued, the pilot ignored us, and the cabin heated up as I worked my hand faster, and his grip on me tightened.
“I see what you did there.” Dario squeezed my knee.
