Page 27

Breathlessly, she slaps her palms against the wall, moaning.
I push deeper, my hand that’s on her hip circling around to her pussy. I keep my fingers there for a second, feeling my shaft as it glides in and out of her. Sliding my fingers along her lips, I find that bundle of nerves I’m so familiar with. I know how to get this girl off. I know exactly what she likes. Hates foreplay, doesn’t like it slow, and when she comes, the tiniest moan always leaves her lips. But we’re not there yet.
Pulling out, I slowly slide back inside, shuddering with every movement. I cover one of her hands with mine on the wall and use the one that’s on her clit to help guide her hips into mine. I bite her shoulder, muffling my groans, ignoring the whispers coming from the other stalls in the bathroom.
I should have kicked everyone out, but I’d been too caught up in this to think clearly.
Crying out softly, Ophelia’s thighs tense, rocking her hips into my hand. I’m practically lightheaded, flames licking my entire body in a haze. I don’t see us in a bathroom at an airport surrounded by businessmen. Nothing else matters. I see her, and me, and whatever the fuck this is that ties the two of us together.
“Harder,” she whispers. “Faster.”
A growl emits from deep within my throat and I slam myself into her harder. Pump my fingers faster against her wet clit. She’s moaning, biting back cries. Men are whistling now and once I know she’s come, I don’t hold back. Pleasure pulses through me as I pour myself into her, mindless to anything around me.
I slowly come back to reality, and pull out. I toss the condom in the toilet and Ophelia reaches for her jeans. “Where are my panties?” she asks, frantically looking around.
I pocket them in my jacket. “Mine now. Now all day long whenever you move, you’ll think of me.”
“Who says I don’t already?” She looks up at me through her dark hair, face red, watching me fasten my jeans. Our eyes catch.
That moment, do you see it?
The emotion in hers?
The strain in mine?
It could be different, but neither of us know how to make that happen. Her eyes land on the tile and she begins to fidget with the zipper of her jacket. She sighs. I step forward and press my body into hers. I breathe in, wanting to remember the scent of her.
There’s a knock on the door. “Sir, this is airport security. Can you please step out of the bathroom with the woman?”
Shit. Groaning, I roll my eyes and step away from her. I slide my hand into hers. “Do you trust me?”
“Not entirely,” she says, smiling.
“Follow my lead.” Drawing her to my side, I unlock the door and step out. “What?” I bark at the security guard.
His eyes pass over Ophelia, then me. “Sir, you can’t have….” His voice lowers. “Sex in here. It’s a public bathroom.”
“I’m well aware of that. I was just helping my friend here use the bathroom. She’s blind.”
I glance over at Ophelia. She’s staring straight ahead, her eyes unseeing, distant. Yes, I know I’m going to hell for this and I’m super sorry to anyone who’s truly blind.
The man probably sees through my lie, but I don’t think he wants to mess with me because he steps aside. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” he mumbles, adverting his eyes.
There’s three other men in the bathroom, probably the ones who’d been whistling at us and I make sure to give them my most intimidating “shut the fuck up” look. It works and nobody says anything as we exit the bathroom.
We’re quiet, the occasional “did that just really happen” look passing between us, but no words. Ophelia walks me to my gate and then nods over her shoulder. “I should catch my flight to Pittsburgh,” she teases, winking at me, her hands buried in the pockets of her black leather jacket she’s wearing over her sweater. The black in the jacket brings out the green in her eyes and tugs at my heart.
I yank her against my chest, my arms wrapping tightly around her shoulders. I hold her there for what seems like forever, long after she sags her weight into my embrace and long enough that I should let go. But… I can’t. I fight off telling her I love her, even though I want to, and end it by kissing her. I don’t care that I’m in the middle of an airport or that there are hundreds of people around. Just like I didn’t care in the bathroom. What I care about is that even though we can’t seem to make this work, she knows how I feel physically. The attachment I can’t sever.
My tongue passionately slides into her mouth. It’s not forceful or sloppy. It’s… romantic. It’s the kind of kiss that makes you sigh and dizzy. Or, in my case, hard again. I’m pathetic.
Slowly, I ease out of the kiss and move my mouth to her ear. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” And then I pull away.
She smiles, but there are tears in her eyes when she slips out of my embrace. “Be careful in Florida.”
I nod. “I always am.”
And then I leave. Before I kidnap her. I sneak one last look at her just as I’m boarding the plane and realize the harder I try to resist her, the weaker I am.