Page 52 of The Virgin Clause (Caprice Langden)

“Yes, sir.”

Dante took my hand and led me further into the airplane. It wasn’t until then that he turned me around and eased off the blindfold. I squinted, though the lights from the cabin were dim, but not dim enough to hide the plane’s opulence.

I blinked as I looked at what had to be the most tricked-out jumbo jet in existence. Dante didn’t say anything. He motioned me to two gray, plush, leather armchair seats that were next to each other. In front of them was a large, darker gray square coffee table. Across from this seating area were leather bench seats and a few single armchair seats with folding tabletops. One end of the cabin had a wet bar: the other a large screen television.

Holy. OMG.

I swallowed, very keenly aware of the fact that I didn’t belong there. Dante stood patiently while I absorbed our surroundings. When my eyes met his, he must have read the shock on my face. One corner of his mouth ticked upward.

“Welcome aboard.” He nudged my shoulder. “Sit down, Noemi, so we can get off the ground.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” I stammered. I was so overwhelmed by the incredible wealth surrounding me, I struggled to get my seatbelt on. My fingers wouldn’t cooperate as I fumbled with the belt’s latch.

Having secured his own in a mere second, Dante turned to help me. And he took his time about it. One finger ran down the length of the belt, past my shoulder to where the latch rested against my stomach. He leaned over me, so close I could feel his breath on my cheek.

“All done,” he murmured. But his hands remained at my waist. I looked him in the eye, my breath catching at the intimacy of where his hands were placed. I was wearing skinny jeans and a gray slouch-sweater. I wished I had known what his plans were. I would have worn something a little more... accessible.

With his index finger, he stroked my lower lip, staring at it as he did so. My mouth parted in an involuntary reaction to his touch. Tonight? Would it be tonight? Would we make love here, on the plane? Was there a bedroom? I swallowed as my nerves threatened to take control again.

“Relax, baby girl.” Dante leaned down and dropped a soft kiss on the top of my nose.

How sweet was that? I started to reach up for him. I wanted more of his mouth on me, but he was too quick, moving to sit back against his seat.

“This isn’t the time or the place. The mile-high club can wait. At least, until the return trip.”

My cheeks heated to their signature red color. Dante leaned back over me, threading his hand through my hair and angling my face towards his. “By the time I’m done with you, I’m going to fucking own those blushes of yours.”

His mouth crashed down on mine. Heat invaded my senses. I lost awareness of the plane, the cabin, the extreme wealth. All I could think about was Dante’s mouth as it took possession of mine. He kissed, retreated, nipped, retreated, soothed, retreated, then kissed me some more. I was ready to tell him that I didn’t want to wait for the return trip to join the mile-high club, I just wanted him. When the annoying “dings” sounded signaling that we were ready for takeoff, he abruptly broke the kiss.

Sylvia returned to the cabin with some pre-flight instructions that I didn’t pay any attention to. I hated flying. I had completely blocked out the fear while I’d been blindfolded because my mind was on other things. When we arrived, I was too stunned by the private plan’s interior to give it any thought. But now that we were belted into our seats, the realization that we would be traveling miles above the earth hit me.

Sylvia left the cabin to buckle herself into the stewardess’s seating, somewhere at the front of the plane out of our sight. I gripped the arms of my seat, mentally preparing myself for the sensation of flight. I hated two things about flying: taking off and landing. As long as I stayed busy during the flight by reading, watching a movie, or sleeping, I could manage my fear, but the take offs and landings nearly did me in.

Dante watched as I struggled with my comfort levels. I’m sure my feelings were written all over my face. I didn’t try to hide them. I had a death grip on the arms of my chair that only Jesus could have convinced me to relinquish.

“Do you not enjoy flying?” Dante asked as he stretched his feet out in front of him.

“Not particularly,” I muttered. “I’ll be okay. Once we’re up in the air. As long as there’s no turbulence.”

He nodded, leaning back against the headrest and closing his eyes. He looked like he was ready to take a nap while my body wanted to come out of its skin.

When the plane moved forward, beginning its taxi down the runway, I gulped. My right leg started bouncing.Breathe. Just breathe. It’s a private plane. I’m sure Mr. Delacroix, whoever he is, spends a considerable amount of money making sure his expensive ride is kept in the very best condition so that he can arrive at his destinations and not become spatter upon the earth’s crust.

We were not going to fall out of the sky. We were not going to crash into a flock of birds.

I’m not sure how many times I repeated my ritual speech in my mind before I noticed the weighted warmth that rested on my left hand. Dante traced soothing circles over the back of my hand. I peeked up at him through my lashes, but his posture remained the same. Calm. Cool. Head back. Eyes closed.

“Breathe,” he instructed quietly. “Or do you want the blindfold back?”

“No,” I answered quickly. As titillating as that prospect was, I could get through without it. I wanted to enjoy the cabin’s amenities and all that Mr. Delacroix’s wealth had to offer. I just needed some time.

“Why did you blindfold me, anyway?” I asked, curious to see if he would answer my question. “And please don’t say ‘because I wanted to.’ I think I figured that part out already.”

“I wasn’t going to say that. I blindfolded you because I don’t want you to know where we’re going.”

“Clearly we’re at an airport,” I pointed out. “On board Mr. Delacroix’s private plane. Who is the mysterious Mr. Delacroix?”

Still, he didn’t open his eyes. The soothing circles on my hand didn’t stop either.

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