Page 88 of Crazed

"How many times have you flown?" I question.

He shrugs. "Too many to count. I lost track when I was a child."

The jet rolls faster down the runway, lifts into the air, and my stomach lurches.

Massimo chuckles, tightening his arm around my shoulders. "Breathe, dolce." He mimics deep breaths.

I follow his lead, wishing the aircraft would level off. My entire body feels pressed against the back of the seat. I couldn't get up if I tried. Something about it freaks me out.

"Five, four, three, two, one," Massimo counts, and the plane changes its angle.

Gravity resumes to normal. I sigh in relief, but then my ear canal fills with pressure. I put my hands over them, cringing.

"Yawn," Massimo orders then does it himself.

I force myself to yawn, and my ears pop. "Oh, wow!"

He squeezes my thigh. "Good now?"

"Yes. Thank you! How long is our flight?"

"Close to twelve and a half hours."

I gape at him.

His lips twitch. "Something wrong?"

"That's half a day!"

"Yep. We'll sleep through most of it," he claims.

I press the button, and my seat moves back. "Okay. I guess it's good these chairs are so comfy."

He grunts. "We aren't sleeping in these chairs."

"No?"

He rolls his head so his cheek is against the seat. "There's a bedroom in the back of the jet."

"Is it hard to sleep during a flight?"

"Not at all. Plus, I don't plan on you having any energy to stay awake," he adds.

Flutters overpower all the nerves I had. A new flush replaces the embarrassment I felt earlier. I lick my lips, try to contain my excitement, then ask, "Why? What are you going to do to me?"

His eyes dart down my body then back to my face. "Let's eat dinner first. You're going to need the extra calories."

Zings race through my cells. I bite on my smile. I can't get enough of Massimo, no matter how many times I'm with him.

He leans closer. "Do you know what's different about this aircraft?"

The anticipation builds, and I swallow hard. "No. Tell me."

He purses his lips, assessing me as my cheeks grow hotter. The look in his eyes is one I crave. It's like a wild animal trying to determine when it's the right time to pounce on its prey. Every part of being on the receiving end of his punishments sets my soul on fire. He drags his knuckles down my cheek, creating a blaze of fire underneath, while stating, "There are few planes in New York designed for punishments. This is one of them."

My butterflies spread their wings, fluttering like they're trying to escape an enemy.

He points at the ceiling, adding, "Look around, dolce. What do you see?"

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