As his kiss continued on and on, not stopping even long enough for her to draw needed breath, she reached for him with her entire body, writhing, angling, desperate for him to move his hand up a few more inches.
Her nipples tightened as they anticipated the healing touch of his palms running over them. And he didn’t disappoint her. With the sureness that she was learning was deep-seated in Jackson’s very nature, he slid his hand inside her shirt, his fingers as hungry as his mouth against her skin.
He roamed over the mound of her breast, and his palm soothed her nipple, making her back arch as she reached for him. She hated that she’d left her bra on; she was desperate to have his flesh against hers, to feel nothing between them.
Her fingers wound into his hair, and she tugged hard. All she could feel was a burning need, and if he didn’t make the ache go away, she was afraid she would melt where she was and be no more.
The stubble on his jaw scratched her smooth cheek, leaving his mark there for all the world to see, but she didn’t care. Let them think what they wanted. As long as he pleasured her, nothing else mattered. Nothing existed beyond the two of them and their overpowering desire.
His fingers slipped beneath the barrier of her bra and he finally pinched one swollen nipple. Oh, that was good, but now she desperately wanted his mouth where his fingers were, wanted his kiss to extend over the rest of her body. She was his, and he could do with her what he wanted.
With a low growl in his throat, Jackson withdrew his hand, making her whimper into his mouth. He pulled tighter on the blankets, ensuring that if anyone walked by, it would look only as if two lovers were sharing a kiss. At least Jackson was protecting her as he lit her body ablaze. When the haze cleared, she’d be thankful for this—perhaps.
Sliding over just a little more, he angled his chest so he’d have access to her breasts, and with the blanket firmly in place, he unclasped the front of her bra, allowing his hand to cup a swollen breast. Then he lifted up, his heated gaze capturing her own half-closed eyes. She was in a trance and couldn’t understand why he’d stopped kissing her.
“Beautiful,” he whispered as the look in his eyes made her fly even higher. It was both a relief and a cause of pain as he rolled her nipple tightly between his fingers, making her core pulse with need.
When he’d learned the shape of her breasts, his hand drifted down her body, and when he swiftly undid the button and zipper of her jeans, she didn’t so much as think of protesting. When he slipped inside the snug material to conquer the insignificant obstacle of her silk panties, she gasped.
Alyssa arched into Jackson when he found the place where she ached most and rubbed his fingers against her. He moved his lips up her neck and captured her mouth again as he stroked her heated flesh, sending her higher and higher.
This man could play with her all he wanted, as long as he continued building the flames of her desire like he was. There was nothing unsure about Jackson’s technique. She sought completion in his arms.
Flicking his fingers across her swollen bud, he whispered, “Let go.” His kiss deepened, and he grabbed her tongue with his lips and sucked as his fingers dived into the slick folds of her body.
She did as he asked—she let go, exploding in his arms, having to cover her mouth so the rest of the passengers didn’t know what was happening right next to them. Trembling as she slowly drifted back down to him, Alyssa was barely coherent. When the trembling stopped, she opened her eyes and gazed at him. Intense heat gazed back at her from his dark brown eyes, but deep satisfaction also burned within his depths.
“We’re only starting, Alyssa.”
She didn’t understand what he was saying until the lights popped on, making her nearly panic as she realized how disheveled she was.
“It’s okay,” he assured her as he slid his hands easily inside her shirt, pulled her bra into place, and clasped it, covering her up.
Thoroughly mortified, Alyssa scrambled to sit up at the same time she was fastening her jeans. Next she ran her fingers through her hair and hoped she didn’t look like a scarecrow.
An announcement came over the intercom to let them know they’d be landing in two hours. Without looking over at Jackson, Alyssa stood, quickly escaping to the bathroom, desperate to hide from him. Looking in the mirror, she was shocked when she saw the reflection staring back at her.
Her skin was flushed, there was irritated redness on her chin and cheek from his stubble, and her eyes were shining. She’d never been so pleasured by a man, and she’d never felt like this before. What did he mean, they were only starting?
They were soon going to land. He would go his way and she’d go hers. This had been only a small interlude on a long flight. It couldn’t go any further than that, could it?
After brushing her hair for the third time, Alyssa realized she couldn’t stay in the bathroom for the rest of the flight, so she reluctantly opened the door. But what was she going to do or say now? She’d never been in this position before.
He must be thinking that because she was a model she was easy—that this was something she did on a regular basis. He didn’t know her, didn’t know how out of character this was for her. She had always been a good girl, and surprisingly enough the modeling world hadn’t hardened her the way it did so many others.
Her behavior with him didn’t fit the kind of person she was, dammit. If he thought they were going to just continue where they had left off, he was going to be sorely disappointed. But . . . but . . . despite everything, Alyssa was amazed that she didn’t really want him disappointed. She wanted his last image of her to be a positive one. How she would accomplish this, she had no idea, but she’d just have to figure it out.
Their time was quickly running out . . .
Alyssa made her way down the aisle, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. She knew the other passengers didn’t suspect a thing, but she felt as if they were all focused on her and knew exactly what she’d just been up to. That scarlet A—or maybe M, for mile-high—was surely growing larger and larger on her chest.
If Jackson was expecting more of a make-out session before the flight was over, he would be highly disappointed. As she sat down, her bed now made back into a seat, he didn’t even glance up, though, but simply read his document as the flight attendant placed a tray before him with a light breakfast. Yes, it was actually evening, but for their bodies, still on Parisian time, it was closer to morning.
It didn’t take long for Alyssa’s food to be set in front of her, and she moved her eggs and sausage around on her plate. She was sure it was excellent, but she knew better than to try to eat anything when her stomach was feeling so nervous. Barf bags weren’t her idea of fun.