Page 19
She takes me slow, deep, vicious about it. Her breath breaks into small, soundless pieces against my jaw. Whenever a cry builds too big, she bites it into my shoulder.
I hope she draws blood, so I cup the back of her skull to encourage deeper teeth. “Still furious?”
She growls with my skin in her teeth. “Fucking livid.”
That’s my girl. “Show me.”
Her nails score my scalp, making me twitch inside of her. She orders, “More.”
I roll her under me instead, hook one arm beneath her thigh, and give it to her deep while her spine bows off the mattress. Her body telegraphs everything—thighs trembling, breath gone ragged, that flush spreading everywhere I look. The woman is a damned goddess, and I’m buried in her, and I have no intentions of ever letting her go.
Just can’t tell her that yet.
“Lupo—”
“I know, doc. Be a good girl and go quietly.” I seal my palm over her mouth, and she nods against it. She comes apart under me with her scream locked away safe in my hand, all fury and ecstasy and primal something. Her pulses pull me over behind her, and I finish plunged deep, face in her hair, her name held behind my teeth where no one can hear what it does to me.
After, we breathe. It’s ugly work. Her hand settles flat on my sternum, and when she notices it resting there, she reclaims it.
“That was a mistake,” she informs the ceiling.
“You said that about the first time too. Yet, here we are.”
“I’m amending my rule. No repeats on aircraft.”
“Put it in writing. Nick can notarize.”
“I will smother you with this pillow, and there’s a doctor on board who’ll certify natural causes.”
“My family buries its dead with full honors. You’d get a lovely seat at my funeral, front row and everything.” I catch the pillow she swings and kiss her knuckles where they grip it.
For one unguarded second she laughs. Then she realizes it and banks the smile. “I hate you. You know that, right?”
“I’m counting on it.”
Even her frown is beautiful. “How’s that?’
“Hate I can work with. Neutrality, on the other hand…” The thought turns something in my gut. “Neutrality is the worst thing there is, right next to boredom, and just after lying.”
“You’d rather I hated you, as opposed to being neutral about you?”
“Hate got you here.”
Her mouth opens once. Twice. “I don’t understand you.”
“Yeah, you do. You just don’t want to admit it.” The seatbelt chime sounds through the cabin. “Time to go.”
We silently reassemble—her sweater, my shirt, her hairpins. She straightens my tie, then realizes she did that and frowns at herself. In the mirror near the door, we appear civilized. Mostly.
Nick doesn’t look up when we return to our seats. “Rough turbulence back there?”
“Clear skies ahead,” I say.
His eye roll is audible.
Sarah surfaces when the deck tilts into descent, right on schedule. She unwraps the second half of the Snickers and presses her nose to the window while Italy rises to meet her. “Nonna’s!”
“Nonna’s,” I confirm.
