He sighed. “Stolen cars take longer to notice here.”
“Really?” With all the cameras around I would think they would notice. Then again, he could be feeding me a line of bullshit.
As he turned the car off, he left the keys and climbed out. The trunk popped and suitcases were pulled out while I just sat there, trying to calm down.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
In.
Out.
I climbed out of the car and shut the door all while continuing to take deep breaths.
Six wheeled the suitcases over and stood in front of me. He reached out and cupped my face before leaning down and pressing his lips to mine. Light at first, testing the waters or himself, I wasn’t sure.
Then it was gone.
His lips smashed against mine, our teeth hitting. The force pressed me against the side of the car, his lips prying mine open as his fingers dug into my flesh, pulling me closer. His tongue swiped across mine as he devoured my mouth.
Mind blowing didn’t cover the intensity of his touch or the need of his hard cock pressing against me.
I grabbed on to his hair, fisting it as I tried to pull him closer. I wanted to suck his tongue, eat his mouth like it was a last meal, because if things went south that kiss really would be it.
When he let go, his eyes were dark orbs, his hips rocking in small movements.
“Good enough?” he asked, his voice low and grumbling.
I stared up at him, boneless and more turned on than I’d ever been in my life, and shook my head. “I think I need more.”
His fingers flexed, digging into my skin. “Any more and I’ll have my cock shoved up your cunt right here.”
“I’m down.”
“Fucking kinky woman,” he whispered under his breath. “We have a flight to catch.” He stepped back and grabbed hold of our suitcases.
I bent over to pick my purse up from the ground and jumped when an arm encircled my waist. His lips attacked my neck, sucking and nipping a trail up to my ear. I craned my neck, giving him room as I leaned back into him.
“I may have to induct you into the mile-high club. Not sure I can last the entire flight after that.”
Motherfucking inspiration.
After getting our tickets and handing over our luggage, we headed to the much dreaded security checkpoint. So far was so good, but the real test was thirty people in front of me.
The entire time we were in the security line my palms sweated. Would they be able to detect my fake passport? If so, what then? Would Six break my neck right there so I couldn’t talk?
Ten feet, then five, then I wondered if I’d reached my last moment when I passed the TSA agent my passport.
He glanced from the picture to me, doing the same for Six’s. My heart slammed against my chest in a furious beat. He shined a light onto them before making some scribbles on our tickets, then handed them back.
I stared at the documents in my hand in shock, Six guiding me to the X-ray machines and body scanners.
“Fucking hate this part,” he said with a groan.
I’m sure he did—he was bare of all his beloved weapons. He packed his arsenal away in a “safe place,” putting only one gun and one knife into his checked luggage.
There was nothing that stood out in our carry-ons or our bodies, and after putting our shoes back on, we headed to our gate.
The jitters still had me, my hand holding my passport shaking.
Six picked up the pace and grabbed hold of my hand to make sure I kept up.
I had no doubts that he could kill me, even without his beloved gun, but I wasn’t about to test him. His jaw ticked, eyes scanning, agitation almost pouring out of him.
He found a bank of empty seats near our gate and he sat down, expecting me to follow.
So, I did. Right onto his lap.
I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. Everything about him was stiff, which I found odd due to how relaxed and how good of an actor I’d seen him be. What changed from two hours ago when we were shopping?
I dipped my head in the crook of his neck and nipped, which received no reaction.
“You suck at this. No one is going to believe us if you don’t relax.”
He let out a hard breath, moving one hand to my back while the other trailed up my leg to settle on my thigh.
“I’m not used to doing this with a novice. Having to make sure you don’t try anything.”
“And you hate being without your gun,” I said. When he nodded, I knew where a lot of his anxiety came from. “You were doing great earlier when we were shopping. The only novice here is you.”