I shifted closer to him, resting my knee against his. “Do you want to wait in the first-class lounge? I’m sure it’s filled with stuffy businessmen types who will certainly shatter the very sexual mood we’ve got going on here with all their stiff-upper-lippishness.”
Braden’s mouth twitched. “Stiff-upper-lippishness?”
He nodded, laughing softly now as he got up out of the stool and helped me down from mine. Wrapping an arm around my waist, he said as he walked us toward the lounge, “Maybe we should stop using the word ‘stiff’ since apparently being married to you means losing control over my body and any self-respect I might have.”
“Grounds for divorce?” I teased as we showed our boarding passes to an airline attendant at the lounge doors.
“Grounds for a marathon fucking,” he answered dryly, not caring that the airline attendant had turned purple at his reply. “You won’t be able to walk for a while when I’m done with you,” he continued, gently guiding me into the lounge, leaving the gasping attendant behind.
I determinedly tried not to show my embarrassment, as I was used to him sometimes saying hot, blush-inducing shit like that to me in public. The key was to not let him know he’d flustered me.
“I’m happy with that as long as we’re talking multiple orgasms.”
Three suits turned their heads toward me from the small bar in the lounge, their eyebrows raised.
Braden and I stopped and I felt his hand squeeze my hip. “We’re going to get thrown out of the first-class lounge.”
I smirked. “You started it.”
“Actually, you started it.”
I heaved a sigh and glanced at my watch. “Well, unfortunately we’ve got about ten hours before we can finish it.”
Not looking too happy about that, Braden’s eyes swept the room, a glint entering them when they stalled on the restroom door.
“No,” I said immediately.
He threw me that boyish grin that was very, very difficult to resist.
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