"We have maybe five minutes," he mutters against my neck.
"Then we better be fast."
He spins me to face the mirror and works my jeans open. Through the mirror, we make eye contact, and there's something so intimate about watching him watch me that I forget to breathe.
"Hold on," he tells me.
I brace my hands on the sink. He pushes my jeans and underwear down just enough, and then he's inside me in one hard thrust.
We both freeze, trying not to make noise. In the mirror, I can see both our faces—his jaw tight with control, my lips parted, both of us flushed.
Then he starts moving, andoh God.
His hand comes around to cover my mouth. "Quiet," he whispers. "Can't let anyone hear you."
The angle is deep, almost too much, and every thrust hits perfectly. I watch us in the mirror—watch him take me, watchthe desperate need on both our faces—and it's the hottest thing I've ever seen.
His other hand slides down to work my clit, and I'm trying so hard to stay quiet but it's impossible. I'm whimpering against his palm, my hips pushing back to meet him.
"Look at yourself," he mutters, his breath hot against my ear. "Look how good you take it."
I do, and the sight of us sends me over the edge. I come hard, shaking, his hand muffling my cries. He follows immediately, burying his face in my neck to muffle his own groan.
We stand there for a moment, both breathing hard.
"We're going to get caught if we don’t hurry," I finally whisper.
"Worth it." He pulls out carefully and we make ourselves presentable as best we can.
I slip out first, and the flight attendant gives me a knowing look but says nothing. Two minutes later, Garth slides back into his seat next to me, looking perfectly composed except for the satisfied smirk on his face.
"Best flight of my life," he murmurs.
I take his hand. "Mine too."
We land in Detroit not long after. The sun is setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, and through the window I can see my city covered in snow.
Home. For better or worse.
My mom is waiting at arrivals, and I spot her before she sees me. She's dressed up, nervous energy radiating off her as she scans the crowd.
Then she sees us. Her eyes go wide when she takes in Garth—tall, handsome, expensive suit, holding my hand.
"Claire!" She hurries over, pulling me into a hug. "Oh honey, you're here! And you must be Garth."
"Mrs. Abbott." Garth extends his hand with that CEO charm. "It's a pleasure."
"Please, call me Susan." She's eyeing him up and down, clearly impressed. "Claire didn't mention she was seeing anyone."
"It's very recent," I say quickly.
"Well." Mom links her arm through mine, steering us toward parking. "You'll have to tell me everything. How did you meet?"
"At work," Garth says. "Claire is my executive assistant."
I tense, waiting for her reaction.
But she just smiles. "How wonderful! And you got snowed in together. How romantic!"
