Page 95 of The Love Syllabus

After take-off, I take a slow sip of champagne, forcing myself to breathe, but it’s no use. My pulse hammers, my fingers fidget, and when I finally glance up, I realize Vic sees it all.

He’s settled across from me with his legs stretched casually and broad shoulders relaxed. He’s unbothered, unshaken, and totally in control.

With a slow, knowing smirk, he asks, “What’re you so nervous about?”

He already knows the answer, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction.

I lift my glass and take another sip, dragging out the silence. “A little bit of everything.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“The town raved about the Fall Festival for weeks, and now the City Planning Commission is blowing up my phone about doing the Spring Fling. But I’d need an entire team to pull that off. And then there’s Serena…”

Vic leans forward slightly, “What about her?”

I sigh, rolling my eyes. “She’s been hinting at something big but won’t spill the details. Just told me to stay glued to my phone.”

Vic hums, nodding a little too suspiciously.

My gaze narrows. “Do you know something I don’t?”

His expression doesn’t change, but his fingers drum lightly against his thigh. “Nope.”

He smirks but says nothing.

Oh, he’s definitely hiding something.

I lean forward in my seat, tilting my head slightly, studying him in a way I know unsettles him. “You do know something.”

He simply shrugs, keeping his mouth shut. Fine. If he won’t talk, I’ll make him. With a mischievous smirk, I launch myself at him, fingers poised for attack and dig into his ribs. Tickling works on everyone, especially grown-ups who hate to laugh.

Vic jerks, grabbing my wrists in a death grip. “Kerry, no—”

Pushing past his grip and steel resolve, I tickle him harder. His deep, controlled voice cracks into something unexpected, a real laugh. It’s the happiest sound I’ve ever heard.

“Damn it, Kerry!” He barks, half-growling, half-laughing, twisting in his seat to escape my fingers.

“Nope! Not until you talk. What the heck are y’all planning?”

“You’re playing a dangerous game, woman,” He warns, trying to gain control, but I keep dodging, poking, teasing.

“You’re the one keeping secrets!” I taunt.

But suddenly, his hands shoot out, grabbing my waist and pulling me forward so that I’m straddling his lap, turning the tables in one fluid movement. I gasp.

Now, his eyes are darker, hungry. His breathing changes, his chest rises and falls while his fingers tighten around my waist.

I should move. I should say something. But I don’t. Instead, I press into him, slowly grinding, just enough to feel the hardness beneath me.

A deep, groan rumbles in his chest. “Kerry,” he warns, his voice strained, like he’s barely holding himself together.

I bite my lip, leaning in, whispering against his mouth, teasing, taunting, tempting. “What? Can’t handle a little payback?”

His fingers flex on my waist. “You have no idea what I can handle.”

Then his mouth crashes into mine. It’s not a kiss. It’s a takeover. Hard, deep, consuming. Like he’s been starving for me.

I moan into his mouth, grinding against him, feeling his need for me. His hands roam my body, moving lower, touching me in ways he never has before. I feel him everywhere. And God, I don’t want him to stop.

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