“Not a chance,” I grumble, grabbing for my leggings.
When he grabs my arm and spins me around, I swat at his hand and he laughs.
“Well, I’ll be.”
“Stop picking on my panties, Finn Beckett.” I try not to laugh.
“Amazing.”
I pull my hand away and step into the leggings. “What’s amazing? That you ever thought you wanted me when I—”
“No, you somehow make white, cotton briefs look hot.”
“Now you’re okay with them?” I say, pulling my shirt over my head.
“Not just okay with ’em, I’m a fucking fan.”
I catch myself laughing and then shake my head. “I don’t know how you can make me laugh right now.” I pull the shirt down and grab my bra. I clasp it in front of me, twist it around, and pull my arms back in my shirtsleeves.
“We’re friends. Friends do stuff like that.”
“I never had many.” I stop myself. “Well, in school I did, but that’s because everyone knew my mother had money.”
“I have money; is that why we’re friends?”
“Of course not.” I take the towel off my head and run it over my wet hair.
“I’m sure your friends didn’t like you because of your family’s money.”
“Well, they sure as hell disappeared after Noah was born,” I comment as I walk the towel into the bathroom.
When I come out, he is sitting on the bed. I grab my phone and see a text alert from Delta.
Your flight is on time. Please arrive ninety minutes before departure to ensure enough time for security check.
I hear another message alarm. It’s Zeppelin’s “Black Dog.” I look over at him to see he is looking at his phone.
“I need to go pack an overnight bag. I thought I’d go visit my old man for a couple days.” He winks.
“In Ohio.” I don’t ask. I know the answer.
His eyes are sparkling as he nods, turns around, and walks into his room.
I get up and follow him. “You bought me a ticket?”
With his back still to me, he shrugs. If he wasn’t so very handsome, beautiful, thoughtful, and desired by me, I would throw a big fit. He’s lucky I’m just planning a little one.
“You can’t do that,” I say with conviction. “I was planning to take a bus. I would have figured it out. You—” When he turns and looks at me, I immediately stop.
“I can and I did.”
“I’m paying you back every cent. I am—”
“Damn straight you are,” he says, looking me up and down, making me warm and fuzzy all over. “I was thinking Mile High Club.”
“That’s sex on a plane,” I say flatly.
His smile grows. “That is correct.”
“So you bought me a ticket so you could what? Check something off a bucket list?”
“While the check mark on the Beckett list is a bonus for sure, I bought a ticket ’cause you apparently thought you had the funds and didn’t. That’s what a friend would do. It’s also something a selfish prick who hates to fly except when he’s next to you would do if he thought he might need to visit his old man for the first time in a couple years. It’s a win-win, Yaya.”
“I’m paying you back in cash,” I say sternly.
“How about you use the cash to buy some new, sexy panties and call it even?”
***
As we’re sitting at Orlando International, waiting to board, Finn’s knee starts to bounce.
I look over at him. “You okay?”
He nods once and stands. “Not used to sitting around.” He stretches, his shirt lifting slightly and exposing his little trail of hair.
I look up at him, and he sighs, pushing his Henley sleeves up. Then he leans down, placing one hand on each arm of the chair.
“You can’t get enough of me.”
“I so can—”
“Not.” He grabs the back of my head and pulls it forward, kissing the top of my head. “It’s cool, Yaya. I feel the same way.” He straightens and stretches one more time, this time exaggerating it a bit, and then grins at me before plopping down next to me again, linking his hands behind his head.
“I despise waiting, too,” I say.
He looks over at me. “You’ll be there soon.”
Our flight is called, and we find ourselves in the very back of the plane.
“Did you do this because you knew it was closest to the bathroom?” I ask, moving into the window seat as he puts my bag and then his in the overhead compartment.
“Safest seats on a plane,” he says seriously as he closes the overhead compartment.
I pat the seat next to me when he remains standing. He runs his hands through his silky, dark hair and then sits. He rests his elbows on his knees, leans forward, and looks at me.
“Yaya, you are stunning, but you look tired. You should try to sleep. You’re gonna be a busy mom in a few hours.”
“But who will feed you Blow Pops and hold your hand?”
“I’ll be fine.” He lifts the armrest that divides our seats.
“You sure?” I ask as I yawn. I am clearly in need of sleep, but apparently … stunning. I smile at the thought of him saying that word to describe me.
Later, I wake up feeling warm and content with my head on his lap. I look up and he looks down at me with a Blow Pop stick hanging out of his mouth. He pulls it out and licks his lips.
“Still got about an hour. Go back to sleep.”
“Aren’t you tired?”
“No,” he says in that deep rasp that sends shivers … everywhere.
He pushes my hair away from my face, and then his thumb strokes my lower lip. Instinctively, I stroke it with my tongue, and his eyes widen and nostrils flare. I do it again, this time slower, and I feel him plump against my cheek. He pushes his thumb just between my lips, and I wrap them around it and suck lightly.
“Jesus,” he groans as his hips gyrate.
I pull my head back off his bulging erection and hook my thumb into his waistband.
“Don’t tease me, Yaya.”
I work my thumb to unbutton the top button of his pants and feel the smooth, silky head of his erection.
“You’re playing with me,” he hisses.
“Want me to stop?” I ask in a voice I don’t even recognize.
“No, dammit,” he says, quickly unzipping his pants and un-tucking his shirt.
I glance across the aisle toward the bathroom door.
“Someone comes down this aisle, and you better fake being asleep. Until then, don’t you fucking stop.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
He grabs my sweater off the back of my seat and uses it as a semi-shield, blocking what is going on in row thirty-four of Delta airlines flight 7299.
I watch him as I taste his delicious, hot skin. His eyes are on fire, his nostrils flaring, his jaw tense, and the muscles in it bulge.
I suck just the tip, and he bites his lower lips as his eyes roll. My tongue circles his head, and his body tenses.
“Don’t fucking stop,” he hisses. “Please,” he grunts.
I taste a salty, sticky mixture as I swipe my tongue across his head again and suck harder, hollowing my cheeks.
“Two seconds,” he grunts as his hips thrust forward. “I’m warning you.”
I suck harder and use my hand to pump his exposed, delicious cock faster.
“Fuck.” He grits his teeth.
I pump faster and tighten my grip. I suck harder and lower.
“Ten,” he hisses, pushing his hand between us and squeezing my nipple hard.
I take him in fully, and his head falls back against the headrest.
“Nine,” he hisses. “Fucking nine.”
I stroke him and suck him, and he opens his mouth then snaps it shut, eyes hooded.
“Eight,” he groans.
I do it again.
“Seven. Fucking seven,” he grunts, thrusting forward.
I take him in farther and flatten my tongue down the underside.
“Six, fuck,” he groans.
I do it again.
“Five. Fuck, Sonya.”
I move my head up and down, my mouth watering.
“Four.”
I look up and moan.