I get the sense she’s on the verge of formally asking me out on a date and hate that I have to let her down. I haven’t thought that far ahead, definitely not beyond getting to Denver and reconnecting with Booth.
“Thanks for the offer, but I can’t really commit to anything right now. I don’t even know where I’ll be in three days.” With any luck, not in Denver, even though the idea of seeing her again is more than appealing. If I could make it all happen, I would. New Year’s Eve is only three days away, but if all goes well when I land, I’ll be heading back to Mexico by then to deliver the deal Zavala asked for and bring Zoe home.
“Well, you don’t know what you’re missing,” she says, and I’m gratified that the self-doubt plaguing her a moment ago has disappeared.
“I’m pretty sure I do. Your ex is the one who doesn’t have a fucking clue.”
I look into her big blue eyes brimming with a deep need for the kind of validation I’d be all too happy to give her in another time and place. Whoever the asshole was, he doesn’t fucking deserve her.
She holds my gaze for a few beats without answering, and then her cheeks turn pink and she looks away. I’m a heartbeat away from tugging her chin back around to kiss her when I feel a tap on my shoulder. Cursing silently to myself, I nod at our seatmate, who’s just returned from the lavatory and stand again. Callie gives him a friendly smile and joins me.
As he maneuvers himself into the row, she seems to lean back a little farther, her back nearly flush with my chest, and I step forward to close the distance, gripping her hip with one hand.
Her sudden exhalation makes my cock thicken in my fatigues. As I pull her back against me, I dip my head and whisper in her ear, “Not a fucking clue.”
She pulls away, giving me a flustered look when she turns and slips back into the row, taking her seat. I can’t sit comfortably just yet, so I bend down and say, “Back in a sec,” then head up the aisle toward the lavatory.
The tiny compartment barely accommodates me, but I need a breather to get my libido under control. Why the fuck did we have to connect on a goddamn plane? Worse, will this be the only place I get to talk to her? Will she disappear from my life for good once we land? I can’t let myself believe that, but it’s all I can think about as I attempt to take a piss.
I don’t really need to go, though. I just needed to give my dick time to settle down, and the antiseptic aroma permeating this tiny space is doing a good job of dampening my desire.
But when I open the tiny door, she’s right on the other side, a determined set to her jaw. Her wide eyes are a little wild with a combination of fear and excitement, and before I know it, her hand is against my chest. She pushes me back into the lavatory and shuts the door behind her.
I search her face, waiting for her to tell me what she’s after, even though there could only be one thing.
“You sure?” I ask, raising a hand and gently curling my fingers at her nape. My dick is fully hard, and we’re pressed so tight in the small space there’s no way she could miss it.
Her hips tilt into me, as much an answer as her whispered, “Yes.”
I am fucking lost when she leans up and kisses me, her pretty bow of a mouth hungrily seeking, teasing a breath across my lips before closing the distance and clasping tight, her tongue delving between. She lets out a desperate whimper when my tongue meets hers, and she combs her fingers into my hair. It’s all I can do not to devour her. I can’t just take after her confession. She needs something from me, but I need her to say it so there can be no misunderstanding.
One hand on her hip and the other tangled in her hair, I turn us ninety degrees so her ass is against the small sink, then pull back and look into her eyes. Her cheeks are flushed and she’s breathless, lips swollen from the most delicious kiss I’ve ever had.
“Callie, I need you to tell me what you want before we go any further. I need to hear you say it.”
Her eyelids flutter closed for a second as she drops her hand to my waistband, then lower, tracing her fingertips over the ridge of my erection. The light touch makes me shudder and exhale. Her eyes meet mine again as she tugs at the button.
“Fuck me, Mason.”
Yes.
This is not the time or place for foreplay, but I’m also all about her pleasure. I give into the urge to slide my hands under her bulky sweatshirt, where I find a slender waist and flat stomach that quivers as I trace my fingertips up over her ribs.
The softness of her skin is intoxicating, and I keep stroking as I kiss her, moving up higher, higher, until I find a stretchy band of what feels like lace. I push the elastic fabric up, sliding both hands beneath her shirt to cover her small breasts with my palms. Her nipples are hard little nubs, and she tilts her head back on a gasp when I tease my thumbs across both tips.
“Lift your shirt for me,” I say and she obeys, pulling the fleece over her head, then tugging the snug tank top up
