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Our eyes meet for a moment before I make the mistake of looking outside. The ground is rushing toward us. I gulp down breaths. We’re still hundreds of feet in the air, the whooshing of the rotor blades deafening in my head. Is this going to be the last sound I ever hear?
I need to block the outside, so I look at Gio again.
My heart hammers against my ribs.
Panic licks at all my senses.
I want to scream while being completely muted.
But I find comfort in his eyes.
A strange sense of hope.
“It’s going to be okay,” he mouths, and despite everything I believe him.
Somehow, the rattling of the rotors becomes almost calming. Proving we’re still in the air, still alive. Everything seems to slow down as we glide toward the ground. I don’t dare to break the eye contact with Gio.
The dark brown abyss of safety. In this moment, he’s my anchor, my lifeline.
The entire cabin shakes, we’re thrown to the side, and then skidding forward on the ground until we stop.
The communal exhalation soars through the cabin. Before I have time to form a thought, Gio is over to me, jerking off my seatbelt and wrapping me in his arms.
Half-carrying and half-dragging me, we stumble out. The feel of the solid ground under my feet is exhilarating.
I shiver, desperately trying to pull myself together, but remain frozen in horror. My mind rebels against me, cheering that the terror is over, while my consciousness can’t yet absorb the reality.
But then there is the solid wall of muscles, tugging me into an embrace, wrapping me in his masculine scent. I shiver against his warm torso, both with relief and fear, and a sob shudders through me.
Without thinking, I snake my arms around his waist, squeezing for dear life. Like we’re still in danger. His hand, warm and heavy on my back, stroking me gently, makes things only worse, giving me permission to let go. So I do.
Gio murmurs, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”
His voice spreads a sense of comfort through my suddenly exhausted limbs.
I don’t know how long we stand there, frozen between the fear of the past few minutes and the normal ahead of us. When my crying fades, his words register, but not their meaning.
I look up at him and my breath hitches. Something flickers in his eyes, and then his lips capture mine, our mouths crashing together in a desperate dance, channeling the fear and ordeal of the past moments.
The kiss is sloppy and brutally honest. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I acknowledge we’re both seeking release from the angst cruising through our veins. Solidifying the gratitude.
Still, the feeling of his lips against mine tears something in my chest, infusing more reckless adrenaline into my veins, fueling my actions as I dig my fingers through his hair, desperately seeking more connection.
I didn’t know a kiss could make me light-headed—and perhaps it’s the adrenaline after-effect—but I invite the feeling like a junkie needing his next hit.
Intoxicating. Delirious. Dizzying.
I welcome his tongue with frenzy and urgency, as if this was the only way to recharge and move forward. Our bodies are tangled, seeking refuge and relief. We’re pressed together so tight, our frantic heartbeats sync in a wild harmony of mutual catharsis.
When we finally pull apart, he rests his forehead against mine, stroking my still tear-soaked cheek with his thumb.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, repeating the words of comfort he murmured before.
“It wasn’t your fault.” I reach up to stroke his cheek, but he recoils. The previous connection frays and then disappears with Aldo’s voice.
“Okay, folks, help is coming. We’re not far from your destination.”
Our eyes remain locked for a beat longer in a silent duel of indecision and confusion, but I see the moment when Gio retreats into his usual efficient mask.
