His eyes soften. “Drink,mon amour.”
Despite the fact that I hate being told what to do, I raise my mug to my lips and take a big sip. The warm, alcoholic liquid does help calm me down. He sips his own and leans close again. “Look out. I promise it’s worth it.”
“I don’t like to be scared,” I reply firmly. “I appreciate the gesture and the trouble you went through. And I’m enjoying being with you and the boozy hot chocolate, but there’s no need for me to terrify myself.”
He reaches up and pushes my hair back over my shoulder. His hand stays tangled in it, loosely cupping the back of my neck. His rough fingertips gently rub back and forth over the nape of my neck. It’s making me horny, which at least is helping me ignore the fear. “I think you need to live a little. Take some risks.”
“You’re a risk,” I mutter back. He smiles and tilts his head. My stomach flutters as I think he’s going to kiss me but his lips simply glide by mine. I almost groan with disappointment.
“Nah…” he argues softly. He finishes the hot chocolate in his mug and places it on the seat next to him. Then he raises his hand and puts it under my chin and tries to gently nudge my face toward the skyline stretching out in front of us. I let him but promptly close my eyes. I feel his lips against the crook of my neck and it makes me shiver. He sucks lightly on the skin there for just a moment before pulling back to whisper, “I dare you.”
“You’re lucky I don’t throw you out of this thing,” I spit back as his hand drops from my chin and lands in my lap on top of the blanket.
“You’d have to open your pretty little eyes to do it, so something tells me I’m safe.”
I feel his hand move under the blanket and come to rest in the crease in my leg where my thigh meets my hip and my… His fingers fan out.Oh my God.
My eyes open, and before I can turn my face to look at him, the man with his fingers spread across my inner thigh, pressing against my core through my jeans, presses his forehead to my cheek, keeping my face straight forward. I have no choice but to look out at the skyline stretched before me.
We are so freaking high! The entire city is spread out below us, glimmering and shimmering, and it’s breathtaking, but so is my fear. Even though I know it’s the worst possible decision, I inch forward in my seat and look down through the glass of our bucket. The water below looks like a giant black hole and I am overwhelmed by the panic for a second until I feel his fingers move. They brush purposefully against the center of my jeans and the spike of fear is equally matched by a spike of pleasure.
“Frenchie…”
He either doesn’t hear the caution in my voice or he just doesn’t give a fuck, because his fingers press harder and begin to move against my middle. He’s pressing the seam of my jeans into me; I only wore a thin, very lacy thong and the friction is…It’s fucking incredible. I bite my top lip.
“See…it’s not so bad, is it?” he murmurs in my ear, his breath warm against my cheek, and his fingers pressing and rubbing in just the right place. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?”
I nod and put my hot chocolate mug down beside me. His lips press firmly to my cheek, a fraction of an inch from my mouth. “What are you doing?”
“Distracting you from your fear.”
He kisses me again. I turn my head, as our bucket crests the top of the wheel and…stops.
My body jolts, and I sit up perfectly straight and clutch him again exactly where he was worried I would clutch him, but I’m not nearly as forceful as I want to be. His hand between my legs lifts as he startles.
“Why are we stopped?” I ask, my eyes wild and my head turning from side to side, looking for something trapping us up here. The pod looks fine, but then again it’s dark. “We’re stuck? Oh my God, we’re stuck!”
He’s…laughing? He’s fucking laughing! I twist to face him on the tiny bench. He tries not to laugh, pressing his lips together tightly, but it’s impossible and he laughs even harder. I hate him.
“Frenchie! I don’t want to sit up here swinging in the abyss!” I wail and yeah, I am totally wailing.
He stops laughing, but he’s still smiling, so I still want to punch him. He lifts his hands like I’m holding a gun. “Okay! Okay! Relax, I just thought, if he gave us a moment at the top, you would enjoy the gorgeous view and I would enjoy you.”
The bucket continues to rock ever so slightly and my heart lurches with every tiny swing. I place my palm flat on my chest and try to sound calm and serious as I say, “Sebastian, I want to get down. Please.”
“Okay. Okay,” he coos and slides close to me again. “All I have to do is text him when I want it started up again.”
“Text him.”
“Kiss me first.”
“Are you kidding me?” I would seriously punch him except I’m sure his phone has a password and I won’t be able to text Mike to start this death trap.
He shrugs, smirking. “You might not be able to enjoy the view, but I still want to enjoy you. That way the night isn’t a total loss.”
“You’re a crazy, insane egomaniac, you know that?”
He nods and leans closer. “Yeah. So?”
