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“We can’t, not now,” I tell her. “We have to try and be good so the crew of the plane….”
I trail off, but her shift in tone lets me know she’s understood.
“Don’t suspect us. Because if they did, the word might get back to Dad.”
I suppress a groan, knowing there’s something truly obsessive in me. I shouldn’t have touched her, got her all excited, feeling affectionate – how shedeservesto feel – and then dropped this on her.
Now we have to be cold and pretend we’re just doing this as any other family friends might.
“Won’t Dad get suspicious if he hears we’ve done this atall?” she asks, as I lower the helicopter.
She brings her hands to her belly as we make the descent.
“It’s okay,” I tell her gently. “You’re doing great.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” she says, still making me grin even as her sassiness turns to snappiness.
It’s good to know the future mother of my children can be assertive.
“I don’t think so.”
“But why risk it, right?” she says.
It’s like it’s all bundled up in her tone, the lust turning to excitement turning to a descent and not just the helicopter. I should’ve told her this sooner, but at the same time, what else are we supposed to do?
“Before your father knows, we can’t be too careful.”
“Know what?” she says, her voice quiet even through the headset.
“About us.”
“But what is that?” she goes on. “What would we even tell him?”
“Everything,” I say passionately.
“But what iseverything? Oh, oh….”
She sticks her hands out as the descent gets a little rocky.
“Breathe slowly,” I tell her.
“I can’t….”
“Slowly, Lauren. You can. Believe me. In and out.Slowly. Just do that for me.”
She does as I ask, her chest rising and gently falling as I land the helicopter and switch everything off.
We sit as the blades slow down, Lauren squeezing her thighs with her hands on her knees.
Her head falls back against the headrest, and she stares across the runway to the medium-sized stunt-style plane on the other side. It’s my custom model with a large back entrance, though the pilot and safety officer are new.
The pilot and the safety officer are sitting nearby on foldout chairs, small from over here.
“I think I need to tell you something,” she says. “It’s embarrassing. Maybe it shouldn’t be, but it is. I think you need to know.”
“You can tell me anything,” I say. “Especially after yesterday.”
“I don’t want to put myself out there to get hurt. But you need to know how much this means to me.”
