Indigo Nights (Nights #3)(17)

I grabbed her hips, pulling her back as she gasped at my touch.

Without ceremony, I slid inside her, watching her in the mirror as I pushed in as far as I could go. She made a choking sound, balled her hands into fists, and screwed her eyes shut. I stilled, taking her in. “You’re going to have to try to be quiet.” I cupped her breasts, pushing them together. She moaned. “I said quiet.”

“I don’t care if the whole f*cking airport is listening.” Her words came out strained and pleading as she pushed back against me.

I pulled out, then slammed into her. “Look at me while I make you come.”

Her eyes opened, catching mine in the mirror. She was breathtaking. I couldn’t hold back any longer, and placed my hands over hers and began to f*ck her as if it were my job.

Her sounds grew louder and louder. Instinctively, I placed my palm over her mouth. Her eyes never left mine. They were desperate and needy and a reflection of everything I felt. In seconds, she began to spasm around me, her moans vibrating against my palm, sending spikes of pleasure directly to my cock. She really was the f*ck of the century.

I wrapped my arms around her, rocking into her gently, not wanting to let go. Her hands barely held her away from the mirror.

“This feels too good to give up,” I said, though I was really talking to myself. I knew I should walk away, satisfied with an easy, quick, incredible f*ck, but something in me didn’t want to. Something in me wanted to cancel our flights and spend the weekend locked in a hotel. I kissed her neck and pulled away.

“Shit, we’re so late.” She smoothed her skirt and started to fasten her bra. I couldn’t take my eyes off her as I disposed of the condom. “Seriously, get out of here, I need to straighten up.”

Was she blowing me off? “Give me your number, and I’ll get out of your way.” I spoke quickly, almost ashamed to ask. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d asked for a woman’s number. Probably not since—well, a long time ago.

“I’ll let you have it when we’ve boarded.” She concentrated as she fiddled with the buttons on her blouse.

I fastened my trousers. “If you don’t show up, I’m going to hunt you down.”

She looked up and grinned at me, those plump lips begging to be bitten.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I said. I would have to have her again if she wasn’t careful.

She raised her eyebrows. “Like what? Like I’m going to make you come until you see stars?”

I grinned and leaned toward her. “I can see every star in the universe right now.” I dropped a kiss on her delicious mouth and unlocked the door.





Beth

The announcement that we would be landing shortly woke me up. I’d managed to sleep most of the way. I shifted in my seat and opened my eyes. Dylan stood in front of me, his face back to being stern.

I’d not seen him since he’d left the shower. I’d boarded the airplane, collapsed into my seat and fallen asleep, still relaxed from spontaneous sex and another Dylan-induced orgasm.

When I’d seen him in the lounge, any thought that I could resist him had dissolved. I wanted him, and even though it meant giving up control—to him, to my lust—he was worth it. The way he made my body come alive was nothing I’d ever felt sober or drunk. I knew now that with him, I could give up my control but still sustain my sobriety, and that made me want him even more.

And he seemed to want me, too, which gave me confidence, as if it made wanting him back okay. He could have very easily avoided me in the lounge but hadn’t; he’d sought me out.

I smiled as my hand went to my head. Was I sporting bed head?

He held out his phone. “Number.”

Jeez, he was moody. Did everyone just do exactly as he told them? Probably.

But did I want to be one of them? Should I give him my number? Giving up control for short, defined periods of time was one thing, but suggesting that we contact each other outside the confines of a trip was another.

“Number,” he repeated.

I focused on him as if he was going to be able to answer my question before I asked it. He stared back at me before I said, “Is it a good idea? I mean—”

“I need to know what this is,” he said. His expression didn’t alter, and he kept his eyes on mine. I didn’t know what he meant, but I took his phone. I’d spent the last week wondering about him, imagining him on street corners. I’d lived through a one-night stand with him, my father being rushed to hospital, and was still holding things together. The world hadn’t fallen apart. Perhaps I was ready for a little ambiguity, a little less control, and a little more fun.

I took the phone and tapped in my number, adding my name in as Airport Orgasm.

I handed it back. He nodded once, his beautiful indigo eyes looked deep into me and then he stalked off.

I smiled. He struck me as a man who didn’t ask for a number he didn’t intend to use. Everything he did had intent. But if he didn’t call, I’d survive. It was a powerful feeling—understanding how strong I’d become. Besides, I was pretty sure I could live off Dylan James memories until I started dating properly.

I gathered my things, ready for a quick exit. I had a lot to do tonight, including a little more research on the producer I’d be meeting tomorrow, and I’d have to call Haven and tell her about my unexpected encounter with Dylan. She’d be thrilled. Even more so when I told her I’d given him my number.