I leaned in, but my eyes suddenly flicked to the side and landed right on Carol. Watching us. My body tensed with self-consciousness, and instead of closing the gap, I pulled back, clearing my throat.
“So… what’s step two?”
Chris’ smile stretched wide, the pain in his hand clearly forgotten.
“Are you feeling good enough to stand?”
I nodded. His hand trailed from my cheek, gliding down my body in the lightest, most maddening touch until it reached my seat belt—the one sitting so low on my stomach. The way his hand rested there for a second too long was enough to make my breath hitch. A soft click made me jolt slightly.
“You trust me?” he murmured.
I nodded again. His voice dipped even lower.
“Then get up. Walk to the bathroom. And wait there.” I should’ve rolled my eyes or shut him down. But I was too anxious and way too turned on to argue. So, I stood.
I stole a quick glance at the kids. Both were zoned out with their tablets and headphones on. Carol was back to her book, oblivious. I gripped the chair in front of me for balanceand slowly made my way to the bathroom, feeling Chris’ eyes on me the entire time. Once inside, I closed the door and exhaled, catching my reflection in the mirror.
I was smiling.
I didn’t even realize it.
I could blame it on the tequila, but let’s be real, one shot wasn’t doing shit to me. I wasn’t a big drinker these days, but twenty-year-old me had built up a lifetime of tolerance.
“What are you even doing?” I muttered at my reflection, trying to shake off that ridiculous, giddy smile. Before I could spiral too hard, the door swung open so fast I jumped, even though I was expecting it.
Chris stood there, eyes dragging over every inch of me, mentally undressing me.
“I don’t think we both fit in here. It’s too small,” I blurted out. “You spent all this money on a private plane and still end up with a regular-sized airplane bathroom? I mean, you should?—”
He cut off my nervous rambling by pressing two fingers gently against my lips while stepping inside and closing the door behind him.
“Shh…”
I narrowed my eyes. “Did you justshushme?”
My words came out muffled against his fingers, but before I could fully commit to my outrage, his hands slid down to my waist, pulling me closer. And just like that, any plans to stay annoyed completely vanished. My cheeks warmed, and he shot me with one of those smirks.
“Now,” he murmured, “do you want me to teach you step two or not?”
“Sure…” I whispered.
He let his hands wander. One trailing down my thigh and slipping under my skirt. His lips hovered right over mine,close enough that I could feel his breath but not close enough to touch.
“Always a fan of your fashion choices,” he murmured as his fingers brushed over the fabric between my legs.
I tensed, thighs squeezing together involuntarily.
“Open your legs, Blaze.” His lips teased against mine, and I did as I was told. The second my legs parted, his fingers slipped under my underwear, finding exactly what he was looking for. “I see I’ve been missed…” he murmured against my lips.
“Terribly,” I managed, barely getting the word out before he slid two fingers inside me.
And then, finally, he kissed me, hungry and desperate, matching the rhythm of his fingers as they worked me. When he pulled away from the kiss, my head tilted back against the wall, and his lips didn’t go far. They traveled down my jaw, my neck, my collarbone. His fingers never stopped moving, and neither did his mouth.
“Fuck, Blaze,” he groaned. “I want you all to myself. Every day. All the time.” His lips brushed the shell of my ear, and then, louder, more demanding—“Tell me you’re mine.” I focused long enough to form a sentence, but he wasn’t making it easy. He leaned back, and his gaze locked onto mine while his fingers curled inside me. “Say it.”
Those eyes. Like I ever stood a chance against them.
“Chris…” I whimpered, barely holding on.
