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As I straighten the straps across her lap, every little flinch and tense breath she takes has me scrambling to lighten the mood. A tactic Wolf excelled at.
“When I buckled you in on the Turbo Beaver, I checked it about twenty times. Bet you thought I was just being overprotective.”
“There was another reason?”
“I was making excuses to stay close.” I peek at her face. “To get into your pants.”
“Stop.” She laughs, the sound warming my skin.
I continue my routine with the buckle, deliberately fumbling and drawing out the task. “I might need to check it another twenty times, just to be sure. You know, safety first.”
Brushing my thumb against the waistband of her jeans, I deftly release her button and hook a finger in the opening, teasing her zipper.
“Kody,” she whispers.
“Or maybe I just like coming up with excuses to touch you.”
“You never need an excuse to touch me.” Her smile widens, and her grip on the armrests loosens as she watches my exaggerated concentration on the buckle.
“That right?” With one hand, I blunder my attempts with the latch while my other hand sinks deeper into the heat behind her zipper.
“If you play with it much longer, I might think you’re doubting your handiwork.”
“Never.” I click the buckle securely and with the hand I still hold in her pants, give the latch and her zipper a tug. “See? Just had to make sure it’s as strong and resilient as the person wearing it.”
Her laughter, more genuine this time, fills the cabin, easing the stiffness from her shoulders. “I know what you’re doing, you wicked man.”
“Tell me.” I shift forward, wedging my hips between her legs.
“You’re trying to make this less terrifying.”
“Tell me it’s working.”
“You know it is.” She leans closer.
“Sorry to interrupt.” The female crew member, dressed impeccably in a navy uniform, approaches with a polite smile.
With a growl, I remove my hand from Frankie’s jeans and keep it tucked against her waist.
“We’re about to take off. Please, take your seat.” The pretty Black woman blushes as she meets my eyes. “My name is Tanya. Can I get you anything to drink?”
“Bourbon for her. Vodka for me.”
“Please and thank you,” Frankie adds.
I grunt.
Tanya nods and moves on.
“We need to work on your manners, caveman.” Frankie taps my lips.
I bite her finger, making her yelp. “Trying to tame me already?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She zips up her pants, shutting down my advances. “You’re supposed to be in your seat.”
“I’d rather be in your seat.”
“Sir?” Tanya calls out. “Where are you going?”
