Page 63 of Whispers in the Dark
Hesitantly, he nods.
“It’s okay to be afraid.” I intertwine our fingers. “A lot of people don’t like to fly. When I get scared, I take myself to my happy place, Paris.” I shrug, letting the thought hang in the air. “I’ve never actually been there, but my dad told me it was my mom’s favorite city. A place where the two of them spent a lot of time because she always felt most at home there. So, I like to imagine that we’d have that in common. And maybe someday, I’ll actually go and see for myself.”
I smile, leaning back in my seat, letting the warmth of the memory of my mother wash over me.
A slight bump in the air jolts the plane, and his fingers tighten around mine.
“But turbulence is totally normal,” I add quickly. “It’s actually expected. I heard you’re supposed to think of it like we’re stuck in Jell-O.” He cracks one eye open, lifting a brow. “Meaning we’re not going to fall out of the sky just because we’re wobbling.” I gesture toward the front of the cabin. “See the flight attendants? They’re smiling. That’s how you know everything’s fine and that the plane is not about to fall from the sky. Smile, good. No smile, bad. That’s my very professional method.”
I laugh at my own joke, but stop when I realize he isn’t exactly amused.
“I mean, planes don’t just fall from the sky,” I rush on. “Okay, I guess technically theycould, but this one won’t. Definitely won’t.” I shake my head. “Flying is one of the safest ways to travel.” I squeeze his hand, grounding us both. “Besides,” I say more quietly, meeting his gaze, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
He relaxes just a fraction, both eyes opening…until the plane hits another patch of turbulence, harder this time. In one swiftmotion, he lifts me onto his lap and secures me against his body. His arms tighten, pressing me to his chest as if holding me close could keep us both safe.
Maybe he’s thinking that if the plane goes down, he can use me as a flotation device.
“It’s okay. I promise.” I place my palm on his chest and move it in a slow circular motion. His heart beats rapidly beneath my touch. Positioning my head against his shoulder, I look up at him and ask, “How can I help you relax?”
His body strains beneath me, his muscles locking into place. His eyes darken, and his tongue sweeps across his bottom lip. He leans forward, lips brushing my ear. “Distract…me.”
He pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, and my heart skips in response.
Laughter from the front of the plane catches my attention, and I suddenly remember we have an audience that includes all of his siblings. They bicker back and forth over some game they’re currently in the middle of, not paying us any attention, but I don’t want to take the chance.
With a slight tremble in my knees, I try to rise, but Mauro won’t let me up.
“Do you trust me?”
He hesitates, but finally releases me. The moment I stand, I take his hand and pull him up. His brows draw together as I lead us down the aisle toward the back of the plane and push open the bedroom door. The instant it shuts behind us, I guide him toward the bed. “Sit.”
Without wavering, he does.
I swallow, steadying my racing heart, and grip his shoulders. Slowly, I lift one leg, then the other, straddling his lap. A low breath escapes him, and his hands settle on my hips as if trying to anchor us both.
Licking my lips, I drag my palm across his scruff, his eyes closing as he melts into my touch.
Summoning courage I don’t quite feel, I lean forward, letting my lips brush against his. His fingers dig into me, restraining himself, the tension between us electric.
“Let me distract you,” I whisper right before closing the distance and pressing my lips to his.
And it’s as if something snaps inside me as I force myself against his chest, greedily devouring whatever I can get from him.
Like his taste. That addictive, mouthwatering taste I’ve been dreaming about since we got married. All it does is send me into a frenzy as he fists my hair with one hand and slides his other up my torso beneath my shirt, his fingers splaying out over my ribs.
The feel of his palm grazing my skin sends a shiver down my spine. His thumb brushing back and forth, right beneath my breast, leaves me wanting, no,needingmore.
His lips pull back, and I inhale as much oxygen into my lungs in one breath as I can. At the same time, he peppers my skin in a trail of hungry kisses down my neck, sucking and nipping along his way, which creates a pulsing ache between my legs so intense I can’t help but shift my hips forward on his lap, seeking the pressure my clit desperately needs.
I freeze.
He freezes.
We both freeze.
Because I felt it. His cock. Hishardcock. His hard cock that I just rubbed myself against like a wild animal in heat.
Oh my God.
