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“I can’t wait. Own me, sweetheart.”
My sex clenches yet again but the effect is quickly ruined. “I have to pee too badly to have any kind of sexy or challenging reply to that.” I turn away from him and climb out of the seat with more of that laugh of his following, but it doesn’t merit a retort this time. I’m on a mission down the aisle, toward the back of the now thankfully calm plane.
I pass a half-moon shaped table, a small sitting area, and then, bingo: a bathroom in a tiny hallway. Maybe private planes aren’t so different from commercial after all. I enter the tiny space, do my business, and then look at the mess that is my hair. My God, it’s everywhere. I glance around, pleased to find a bagged toothbrush and toothpaste and a tiny comb. A little quick work and my morning breath is gone, and at least my hair doesn’t look like a wild animal crawled into it.
I inhale then, the scent of Cole on my skin, and I press my hands to the sink. I love that smell. I love sleeping with him. How has this man become so much a part of my life in a tiny window? I’m falling hard for him and too fast. I need to just deep breathe and enjoy Cole, not fall in love with him.
Right. I can do this.
I open the door and Cole is standing in the hallway, or rather leaning on the opposite wall. The minute he sees me, though, he in fact does stand, leaning forward, his arm on the wall beside me. “Feel better?”
He consumes me that quickly. I smell him, feel him—I can almost taste him, and he’s not touching me. “You’re very large,” I say, because he is, maybe six-foot-three? And he’s broad and tall, but more so, his personality, his energy, his everything, consumes all that is around him, most certainly me.
He narrows those baby blues on me. “Is that bad?”
“There’s really nothing bad about you, Cole Brooks,” I dare to say. “Not yet at least.”
“You’re expecting there will be?”
“Yes,” I say honestly.
“Why?”
“Because then you can’t disappoint me, and you can still surprise me in a good way.”
“I can live with that,” he says.
“You can?”
“Of course I can. It’s honest, Lori, and my experience is that it isn’t as common or expected as we’d all like to believe. I like honest.”
I think back to him talking about his ex cheating with his friend. He’s been burned, and worse than me in many ways. The plane shakes and I end up flat against Cole, with him holding me. “That was normal, too?” I ask urgently.
“Yes. And we’re back to, I promised to save you, remember?”
Now, he’s not talking about the plane. “What if I don’t want to be saved?”
“Then you can save me, and I’ll protect you.”
“Save you? From what?”
“Apparently, a lot of things I didn’t know I needed to be saved from. And is that normal? Not for me, sweetheart,” he leans in and presses his cheek to mine, his hands suddenly branding my hips, “but then, everything with you is different.”
The plane tremors again and he leans back. “Go buckle up until we’re past the turbulence.”
“Protecting me again?”
He winks. “Always, and that’s not a bad thing.” He turns me toward the walkway again, and leans in. “You just don’t know that yet.” He then smacks my ass hard enough that I yelp in surprise, and he laughs while I hurry toward our seats, with his burning hot gaze on my butt cheek.
I sit down, buckle my seatbelt, and squeeze my legs together, because apparently, that man’s hand on my ass has me aroused. Everything about him arouses me but it’s more than that. So much more with him, but that isn’t where my head is. My head is with his words: You can save me. How can a man like Cole Brooks need to be saved? But then I think about his past and everything I feel when he kisses me and touches me, really think about it. He kisses me like I’m the only woman he has ever wanted. He kisses me like I’m everything and everyone, and there is no one else. He kisses me like he doesn’t care if I know how completely he wants me, in fact he wants me to know. Because Cole is fearless in all he does. It feels good to be kissed like that. It feels really good to be kissed like that by Cole Brooks.
Cole reappears and sits down next to me. “Now I’m minty fresh, too,” he says.
I unbuckle, stand up and walk to stand in front of him. His hands come down on my hips, and one of mine settles on his face. “Cole, I—”
“You what?”
“This,” I say, leaning in and pressing my lips to his, my tongue boldly licking into his mouth. He rewards me with a low rough sound, cupping my head in that controlling, possessive, sexy way he does, and he kisses me back. My knee goes to the cushion beside him, and I’m half on and half off his lap, but I don’t hold back. I sink into the connection, drinking him in, letting him taste everything I feel, and don’t dare name or even try to understand.
