Oh, he’s definitely hiding something.

I lean forward in my seat, tilting my head slightly, studying him in a way I know unsettles him. “You do know something.”

He simply shrugs, keeping his mouth shut. Fine. If he won’t talk, I’ll make him. With a mischievous smirk, I launch myself at him, fingers poised for attack and dig into his ribs. Tickling works on everyone, especially grown-ups who hate to laugh.

Vic jerks, grabbing my wrists in a death grip. “Kerry, no—”

Pushing past his grip and steel resolve, I tickle him harder. His deep, controlled voice cracks into something unexpected, a real laugh. It’s the happiest sound I’ve ever heard.

“Damn it, Kerry!” He barks, half-growling, half-laughing, twisting in his seat to escape my fingers.

“Nope! Not until you talk. What the heck are y’all planning?”

“You’re playing a dangerous game, woman,” He warns, trying to gain control, but I keep dodging, poking, teasing.

“You’re the one keeping secrets!” I taunt.

But suddenly, his hands shoot out, grabbing my waist and pulling me forward so that I’m straddling his lap, turning the tables in one fluid movement. I gasp.

Now, his eyes are darker, hungry. His breathing changes, his chest rises and falls while his fingers tighten around my waist.

I should move. I should say something. But I don’t. Instead, I press into him, slowly grinding, just enough to feel the hardness beneath me.

A deep, groan rumbles in his chest. “Kerry,” he warns, his voice strained, like he’s barely holding himself together.

I bite my lip, leaning in, whispering against his mouth, teasing, taunting, tempting. “What? Can’t handle a little payback?”

His fingers flex on my waist. “You have no idea what I can handle.”

Then his mouth crashes into mine. It’s not a kiss. It’s a takeover. Hard, deep, consuming. Like he’s been starving for me.

I moan into his mouth, grinding against him, feeling his need for me. His hands roam my body, moving lower, touching me in ways he never has before. I feel him everywhere. And God, I don’t want him to stop.

But then, I hear a noise. “Someone’s gonna catch us,” I gasp against his lips.

Vic pulls back, just enough to look at me. Then, without a single word, he reaches up, and presses the Do Not Disturb button on the console, and the entire cabin plunges into silence.

No notifications. No interruptions. No distractions.

He smirks. “This is my plane, Kerry. We can do whatever we want.”

A shiver runs down my spine as his fingers thread into my hair, his palm cupping the back of my head, pulling me back into his control.

Then, in a whisper, he says, “Tell me the real reason you’re nervous.”

His gaze is unrelenting, demanding the truth.