Chapter 110

The One With All Sorts Of Miles

A R I E L L E

Leaving Greece is admittedly difficult.

Our time there had been wonderful. It’s the place that I will forever relate to helping Nate and I get back together. For good. For forever, this time.

But, now we’re on a plane, and the flight isn’t exactly short.

I’ve never been one to enjoy flying. It makes me a bit anxious. Lots of people sleep, but I’m someone who has a hard time falling asleep while sitting up. Plus, the idea of a bunch of strangers watching me while I’m essentially unconscious, isn’t something I vibe with.

Nate, however, seems calm and collected. Like he flies for a living.

I’m jealous.

Speaking of, Nate ‘s hand grabs the exposed portion of my thigh, his fingers drumming against the inner curve. His pinky actually reaches out and up and with the short hem of my dress, he’s able to skirt it along the edge of my panties. “Nate —” I try to make my voice sound like I’m scolding him, but it fails me.

When the flight attendant walks back in our direction, he drags his hand downwards so it appears innocent. However, the second she’s gone, his fingers are right back where they were. I squirm in my seat, glancing at the people on the other side of the aisle to see if they’re paying attention.

Lucky for me, most of them appear to be asleep. Only one woman is awake, but she’s at the window seat and she seems entirely lost in the movie she bought.

He leans close, casually sliding his hand further up my leg as he whispers, “Go to the bathroom and leave the door unlocked.”

I wet my lips, thinking of the last time we did this. When we’d flown to Muskoka, we joined the mile high club and I have to admit, it was hot as fuck. The added danger of a stewardess or another passenger catching us only added to it.

Since we had the discussion where I forgave him, we basically haven’t stopped fucking.

Not that I’m complaining.

This is what we do—we fuck.

We’re sexual individuals and there’s nothing wrong with it.

Even before everything went down, we were like this. However, in the months we’ve been separated, it’s been a long time and now we seem to be unable to keep our hands off one another.

Standing, I squeeze past him. As I do so, his hand wanders up my skirt and he squeezes my ass. I swat him away, not wanting to upset any of the other people on the plane if they were to see. Although, when I peer around again, nobody seems to be paying us any attention.

Each step I take towards the lavatory, I feel Nate ‘s eyes on me. It causes my heart to race and my panties to dampen with excitement. When I reach it, I peer into the area where the attendants wait, finding them sitting on the opposing side where it looks like they’re drinking coffee and chatting.

Quietly, I open the door, taking a final glance back at Nate. He’s leaning an elbow on the armrest, his chin resting in his hand. He’s using a tattooed knuckle to play with his lower lip, his gaze hot on me—no denying what it signifies.

I step in and close the door, taking two steps in to take a glance at my appearance. I brush my hair off my shoulders, waiting impatiently for him.

Eventually, after a couple minutes, I can faintly make out the sound of footsteps approaching and I pray that it’s him and not some other passenger.

The door swings open softly and Nate quickly closes it, flicking the lock to ensure we won’t have any unwanted visitors. He then turns to me, his ring-covered hands finding home on my waist. He backs me up until my shoulders hit the wall behind me, a single hand trailing upwards to cup my jaw.

He closes the space between us, brushing his mouth over mine in the faintest of ways. “I love you, Arielle,” he mumbles quietly, his lips hitting mine with each uttered word.

“I love you, Nate.” My hands thread themselves in his hair, my gaze meeting his. Leaning back, the light that reflects through the tiny airplane window catches his eyes, making them look like sunlight through a bottle of dark liquor. With the way his long eyelashes frame them, it takes my breath away.

What have I ever done to be so lucky?

“Now, please fuck me like you don’t.” As I speak the request, I grab the necklace he’s wearing, using it to tug his mouth to mine to initiate an intense make-out session.

When we pull apart, I’m breathless. My mouth feels swollen and tingly from his touch. My hands slide under the hem of his shirt, following his narrow waist, up to his broad shoulders. They linger there, appreciating the definition in his muscle that has formed.

He’s literally perfection. The most beautiful man to have ever been created.

I don’t know how it’s possible, to be honest.

His fingers caress across the curve of my neck and he gently grabs the bow that keeps my strap tied. With a tug, it undoes with ease and he mimics the action on the opposing side. The material falls to my waist—the belt of the dress keeping the article of clothing on my body—and Nate wastes no time in pressing my breasts together to suck each nipple piercing into his mouth. He draws his tongue around them, eliciting a shaky exhale from me.

His hands grip my waist and he spins me around in a hurry, a gasp falling from my lips and I anchor myself by putting my palms flat to the surface in front of me. Nate bunches the loose fabric of the hem of my dress, lifting it up and he smooths his warm hand over my ass.

He pushes his clothed cock against me and I whimper, my back arching, forcing my hips backwards into him, desperate for his touch. He slips a finger under my thong, pulling it aside and out of his way. And then I’m hearing a zipper and with each notch that’s undone, my heart rate picks up.