Page 61 of The Rebel

His frown vanishes. ‘See? You’re definitely crazy.’

‘Crazy about you,’ I murmur, hoping he can see how much he means to me in my eyes.

When he leans forward to brush a kiss across my lips, I sigh.

I’m one step closer to that elusive happiness I crave so badly.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Hart

Inever should have agreed to this.

I should’ve lied and told Daisy the flight was fully booked to avoid this pure torture.

We’re thirty minutes into the flight, with less than an hour to go, and I doubt I’ll make it, what with her constant touching. I have no idea if it’s deliberate—her idea of making me see what I’m missing out on— or accidental, but whatever the reason it’s driving me slowly but surely insane.

She’s flirting too and I can only hold out so long. I’m a guy and she’s a sexy woman I’ve had the pleasure of being inside, of licking, of tasting, of hearing the sounds she makes when she comes.

My cock is rigid and has been since she sat next to me. I’m a lost cause.

‘Nuts?’

My balls throb. You have no idea, I want to respond as she offers me a packet of cashews and I try not to shy away. She’s leaning over, pushing her breast against my arm, and I grit my teeth.

‘No thanks.’ I stare straight ahead and return the tray to its upright position. Big mistake, as her gaze drops to my groin, where I’m sporting a massive boner clearly outlined by my pants.

‘Wow,’ she says, pushing her breast a tad harder against my arm, leaving me in no doubt her whole touching routine has been deliberate. ‘I wish I could help you with that.’

Her saucy taunt evokes an image of her doing just that. Taking me into her mouth. Stroking me with her talented tongue. Sucking.

I make a half-strangled sound and she has the audacity to laugh.

‘Pity it’s not an international flight, we could’ve indulged in a little mile-high action.’ She straightens, and I instantly miss the feel of her breast pressed against me. ‘Maybe we could fly to Auckland next time?’ She winks. ‘Three and a half hours should just about do it.’

‘Stop. You’re killing me.’ I shift in my seat. It does nothing to relieve the ache in my balls. I reach for a magazine to hide my hard-on before I give the flight attendants an eyeful too.

‘Not yet, but give me a little one-on-one time and—’

I kiss her. It’s the only way to shut her up. But I haven’t thought it through, because the moment her mouth opens beneath mine I’m a goner. Lost in the relentless pull between us, the yearning to possess, the craving that won’t be satisfied with just a kiss.

When her tongue darts forward and touches mine I wrench my mouth away, desperate for air, desperate for more. There’s a discreet cough and a disapproving glare from the older couple across the aisle, while the male flight attendant handing out drinks a few seats up gives me a thumbs-up of approval and a wink.

‘That was unexpected.’ She dabs at her lips with her fingertips, her eyes wide, her skin flushed. ‘Now I really wish we were on an international flight.’

‘Stop flirting.’ I make a zipping motion over my lips. ‘No banter until we land.’

‘Then it’s no holds barred?’

I groan and press my fingertips to my temples. ‘I’ve got a headache.’

‘Yeah, but which head is aching?’

I manage a rueful chuckle and she grins, as we share a moment of complete and utter sync the likes of which I never imagined having with a woman.

Seeing her again, having her this close, sparring with her, has made me realise how much I’ll miss her when it’s over for good.

And it will be. I’ll make sure of it.

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