It was very cozy. Two leather seats side by side in a cockpit, and glass all around. Flying in it would, Natalia thought, be amazing. If she let herself go. If she trusted Ben.
Why was that thought so scary, far more frightening than actually getting inside this piece of scrap metal?
‘Well?’ Ben asked. She’d clambered up so she was halfway into the cockpit, and she could sense Ben’s presence behind her, feel the heat of him.
‘I suppose it might be all right,’ she said grudgingly, and Ben let out a dry chuckle.
‘High praise from the princess. Get in.’ He put his hands on her hips and guided her into the low-slung seat, sending a flare of awareness and heat low through her pelvis. Yes, she thought, swallowing drily, this really was quite cozy.
* * *
Ben felt a jagged jolt of desire ricochet from his hands through his whole body. He couldn’t keep from touching her. He watched Natalia settle into her seat, and he could still feel the curve of her hips on his palms, imagine pulling her closer, fitting her to him.
He forced the thought away and slid into his own seat. ‘You sure you can fly this thing?’ she asked, and he slid her a knowing smile.
‘Watch me.’
‘Oh, I will.’
Was he imagining the wicked innuendo in her voice? He knew he felt it. Everything about this whole evening felt
agonisingly charged, even more than the last time they’d been out together. For even with the ultimate distraction of Natalia sitting less than a foot away from him, her skin so smooth and golden, the dress hugging the curve of her breasts and the dip of her waist so lovingly, he realised something else. Something deeper.
He was happy.
When had he last felt this relaxed with a woman? When had he last enjoying just being with someone so much? He couldn’t remember. Maybe never. And even though the more rational part of his mind was insisting that this was Natalia, spoilt party princess whose exploits featured in nearly every tabloid, the rest of him wanted to drown out that nagging whine and just relax. Enjoy.
Be happy.
He started taxiing down the runway. Natalia gripped the leather armrest. ‘You’re not actually phobic, are you?’ he asked in genuine concern, and she gave him another one of her wicked looks.
‘A little late to ask me that, isn’t it?’
He let out a dry laugh. ‘I suppose so.’
‘Fortunately I’m not. I’m scared of plenty of things, but not flying. Although I’ve never flown in a tin can before, so I suppose I could nurture a bit of phobia if I put my mind to it.’
‘What are you afraid of then?’ Ben asked, genuinely curious.
Natalia shrugged. ‘The usual things. The dark, for one.’
‘The dark?’
She gave him an annoyed look. ‘I didn’t say I was completely phobic about it. I just don’t like being alone in a dark room.’
‘Do you have a night light?’ He spoke at least half teasingly, but she answered in seriousness.
‘I keep the bathroom light on.’
‘You’re not scared of the dark out there, are you?’ he said, nodding to the expanse of sky that was just starting to darken to violet.
Natalia let out a little hiss of breath. ‘No, of course not. I mean, the dark. Like a cupboard with no light at all.’
A cupboard? It sounded like she’d had some kind of bad experience. Ben decided not to press. He hadn’t meant to tease her; he just couldn’t imagine Natalia being afraid of anything. She seemed so fearless. ‘What else?’ he asked. The Seabird was gaining speed and Natalia didn’t answer as they took off into that endless stretch of sky, the horizon a vivid streak of magenta as the sun slid below the sea.
‘No, now it’s your turn,’ she said when the Seabird levelled out. ‘What are you afraid of?’
Ben flexed his hands on the controls and considered. ‘Something bad happening to someone in my family,’ he said at last.
Natalia rolled her eyes. ‘I could have told you that. You are a complete control freak. I’m sure you feel responsible for everyone in your family, even your parents.’
‘And that’s a bad thing?’ Ben asked drily, although in truth he felt a bit disconcerted by her perception.
‘I don’t know, I haven’t asked your family.’ She wiggled a little bit in her seat, getting comfortable, and Ben was momentarily distracted by the sight of her dress sliding around, that huge emerald swinging in the shadowy V between her breasts. ‘Anyway,’ she resumed, clearly more comfortable now, although Ben was decidedly not, ‘I mean, what are you really afraid of? Your deepest, darkest, most secret fear.’