Page 89 of Facing Off
I snort, amused. Of course, that’s what he’d think. “No, then youembraceit. Like you trick your brain into thinking it’s happening to you. So that when anything baddoeshappen, you’ve already worked through the steps of accepting it. Since your brain thought it was real.”
There’s silence.
I’m trying to be patient, letting him digest this wonderful mental trick I’m suggesting, while also trying not to be very aware of how my hips are lined up against hiscrotch. The issue being that I wore thin cotton leggings today. What a mistake. I can feel every cord of his muscle under me.
“And you do this?” says Hughes finally. “You tell yourself to expect the worst at all times?”
His tone hasn’t changed, but there’s a new stiffness in his body. From the corner of my eye, I glimpse a clenched jaw.
“Don’t make it sound depressing, it’s not,” I argue, shifting my head as much as I can to look at him from over my shoulder. “Just try it. Think about what you’re most afraid of, Hughes.”
“Wait.” Hughes’ hands tighten on me. “Keep still, darling. You can’t move like that.”
“I can do anything I want,” I hear myself snipe, more than a little defensively. I generously shared this inner, private technique of stress management with him, and now what? He’s making me think it’s not great?
Possibly, I wriggle some more in annoyance.
“Fuck,” Hughes grits out. “Play nice, Sonya.”
“When have Iever?—”
Oh.
An erection presses into my back. Feeling it grow in real time makes me go light-headed. He’s getting hard. Really hard.
“I bet you’re not thinking about flying anymore,” is another thing I say without thinking.
Hughes’ chest rumbles against my back. I can’t tell if he’s laughing or suffering.
I pretend it’s the latter. My skin is hot as I picture being the reason Adrian torturously falls apart. He’d be wrecked. Defeated, I know. That’s the only defensible reason as to why I’m tilting my pelvis and creating more friction.
“You can’t do that,” he groans, leaning back, his head lolling to the side slightly.
“What makes you think that you can tell me what Icanandcan’tdo?”
If I wanted to, I could unbuckle his pants, lower the zipper, and take him out. I could bring my leggings down and find a way to sink onto that thick length—watching his expression change as I ride him hard.
Hughes sucks in a sharp breath, almost as if he’s able to read my mind. A deeper flush spreads across my cheeks at the thought of that—and also at the demanding throb between my legs, pushing me to make my idea become reality. Especially when I feel his length pulse against me.Will it pulse like that in me?
Lost to such impossible thoughts, I keep wriggling, and soon, my knees pull apart. Widen. A silent, seeking request.
He sees. Hemustsee, because, while one of his arms stays banded across my body, his other hand lowers, going down, down, down until it stops right abovethatspot. The source of my incessant throb.
I bite back a whine. I think I’m about to beg Adrian Hughes to rub circles over my clit as I grind against his erection while pretending we’re both out of our mind. We’ll blame the dark, or blame the fact that we might die, even though I haven’t heard any thunder in a while.
“You’re such a good girl staying on my lap, baby.” Adrian’s mouth nips the shell of my ear, then presses against the side of my neck gently. “I have to keep you safe.”
I don’t answer. I can’t think. My eyes might’ve rolled back.
His hands flex open and closed. “What else do you need from me right now? Whatever you want, it’s yours.”
My underwear is soaked, and he hasn’t even touchedme there. My mind imagines what’ll happen when he does. He’ll feel how much I want this…
“This is your pilot speaking,” overhead speakers blare out. “I want to apologize about the turbulence. It took some time, longer than anticipated, but we’re back to clear flying from here on out. Thank you for hanging in there!”
My heart stops.
The lights snap on. Okay, they don’t. But it feels like they did. Like there’s a massive spotlight shining on me and Hughes.
