Harden My Hart

by Clare Connelly

  ‘Open your eyes.’

  I don’t comply immediately. I still need help to breathe. But after a few seconds I do, groggily, slowly, to find him staring down at me.

  ‘I want you to look at me when you come.’

  Something flickers inside of me. Disbelief, excitement. His finger probes my sex and I arch my back, tilting forward a little, surrendering to this. His other hand cups one of my breasts through my jacket—I didn’t realise how badly I wanted him to do that until he holds it in his hand and I feel like I’ve come home.

  My eyes flutter closed of their own accord.

  ‘Open,’ he grunts, dropping his head closer to mine, moving his finger in and out of me then finding my clit and circling it slowly at first, so the teasing is a form of agony. I blink up at him. There’s fierce determination on his face but a dark determination too, as though making me come is the single most important thing he’s ever done. Hey, who am I to complain?

  ‘Good.’ His nod of approval unpicks something else inside of me so I feel my surrender washing over me like a wave. He moves faster, his eyes heavy as they watch me, but I don’t look away, I don’t close my own eyes. I stare at him and I feel a thousand and one things. Breathing becomes frantic. His fingers move and my body responds until I’m so close it hurts.

  I lift a hand, curving my fingers around his shoulder, my eyes pleading.

  ‘You’re nearly there, baby,’ he murmurs, the words low and dark.

  I nod desperately. ‘Show me.’ He moves harder and I buck my hips forward until my release grips me and won’t let go. I dig my fingers into his shoulder and then I explode, his name just a groan against my teeth. ‘Holden...’ It tumbles out of me without my consent, again and again. I have no idea how this happened, but I’m so glad it did. His hand drops from my breast, curving around my butt instead, bringing me against his rock-hard cock. He moves his hips, pressing himself against me, so if it weren’t for our clothes he’d be taking me right now, I’m sure of it.

  ‘Have you ever had sex at forty thousand feet?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘Eight years as flight crew and it never occurred to you?’

  I’m still struggling to breathe, let alone form words. I shake my head. It’s not that it didn’t occur to me. Nor that I didn’t have opportunities, invitations. I’ve just never given into anything like this before. I’ve never felt anything exactly like it.

  ‘Then I guess it’s about time we remedy that, huh?’

  God, I want to do this. Briefly, I think about the other crew on board—all fast asleep. I think about Amy, the friend I owe it to not to screw this up. And I push those thoughts away just as quickly as they came to me because I want, more than anything, to go to bed with Holden Hart. To hell with the consequences.

  * * *

  ‘We’ve got some turbulence coming up, Mr Hart. If you fasten your seat belt I’ll come back and let you know when we’re above it.’

  I could punch something. I’m so hard, I need Cora with a passion that surprises me. I had sex last night with whatever the blonde woman’s name was. It’s not like I’m desperate. But Cora is...what?

  I don’t know. Different.

  Fascinating.

  ‘You heard the captain,’ I murmur resignedly. Her cheeks are pink with passion. Her eyes hold mine. I grab her hand and pull her beside me towards one of the sofas—not the armchairs. Too much physical distance there. I wait until she sits down, watching as she buckles in, smiling a little as she also refastens her pants. I resist the urge to ask her if there’s any point to that and take the seat beside her, loosely fastening the belt over my hips.

  ‘So you don’t buck the seat belt rule then?’

  I study her thoughtfully. ‘For myself, maybe.’

  Her eyes flare a little and she looks away, as if surprised by my answer, and I’m surprised by my reaction to that realisation. Like the fact I care about her safety is unexpected, which makes me wonder about the dropkicks she ordinarily hooks up with, or the dropkick she thinks I am, and a surge of something like anger blasts through me. I’m surprised to feel that but, then again, I’m angry about every fucking thing these days.

  ‘You’re still our brother, man. I don’t care what a DNA test says.’

  Easy for Jagger to say. Easy for Theo to say. They’re not like me. All my life I’ve known I was different to them—wrong somehow. I used to think it was just because Ryan was angry he didn’t know about me for the first few years of my life, angry at my mother for keeping me secret. Now? I guess he knew I was different too. That’s why he pushed me, why he separated me, made things harder for me, isolated me in many ways.

  I grind my teeth, not wanting to think about my messed-up family—except they’re not my family. I’m alone. No mother. No idea who my biological father is. The man who raised me is dead.

  Silence has fallen in the cabin without my realising it. I angle my face to hers, pulling myself into the moment fully, relieved to focus on Cora. She’s awkward—shy almost—and I find that fascinating for how unusual it is.

  The plane bumps a little, and then some more.

  Neither of us reacts—we both fly too frequently for a bit of turbulence to cause a stir.

  ‘How about you?’ She angles her face towards mine, her eyes sweeping across my face thoughtfully.

  ‘What about me?’ The question is a little gruff.

  ‘I gather you’re a card-carrying member of the mile-high club?’

  I wonder at my hesitation to admit that. ‘Does that bother you?’

  Her smile shifts something beneath my ribcage. ‘Nope. Not at all. I’d expect as much from someone like you.’ I wonder why that bothers me. She leans a little closer, reaches for my wrist and turns it over so she can see the time on my watch. ‘Besides, in about two hours and forty minutes I don’t ever plan on seeing you again.’

  There’s something perfect about that. I love one-night stands. I love the impermanence of it, I love great sex, I love knowing there are no expectations to follow. Two and a half hours sounds like just about enough of Cora for me.

  I grin, reaching across and pulling her shirt out of the waistband of her pants. ‘Seeing as you don’t technically work for me, I really think we should get you out of this uniform.’

  Her laugh is soft, like leaves on the breeze. ‘I don’t have any problem with that, but I’m going to insist on a little privacy.’

  I look around. ‘Do you see someone I don’t?’

  ‘No, but I’m very aware there are other people on this flight and they’re likely to walk in at any point. Public sex isn’t really my thing.’

  In truth, I don’t want to share this with anyone else either. I’d prefer to know we’re not going to be interrupted.

  ‘And we’re stuck here until the captain says otherwise,’ she says, pretending to ponder this.

  I make a gruff noise of agreement.

  ‘So how do we keep ourselves busy?’

  Her smile shows me she has her own thoughts on this, and a second later she’s moving her head closer, her lips seeking mine. I freeze, instantly rejecting what she’s doing.

  I don’t kiss. I mean, ever. It’s too... I don’t know. Too something. But she doesn’t realise and I don’t react quickly enough so her lips press to mine, her tongue flicking tentatively into my mouth, exploring, wondering, questioning, and I’m frozen, my lips her willing captives, my body tense, but gradually relaxing as bit by bit her proximity and her kiss eat away at my usual boundaries so—to my surprise—I’m kissing her back, tasting her sweetness in my mouth and, miraculously, wanting more.

  I groan, lifting a hand and gripping the back of her head, holding her right where she is, my tongue duelling with hers, my body pressing forward so that even with our seat belts I’m close to her. Somehow, the fact I can’t pull her on top of me like I want to only
serves to enhance the eroticism of this, like she’s forbidden fruit or something, frustratingly out of reach. I want her, I know I’ll have her, but being kept at a distance is a strange form of torture—only torture’s never felt so good.

  * * *

  I can’t remember the last time I just kissed a guy. I mean, really kissed him. Like made out in that teenager way of just exploring each other’s mouths, feeling each other’s responses, breathing someone deep into your lungs so they take over your body cell by cell. It’s so easy to get straight to sex but kissing Holden is stirring me to a fever-pitch of wanting. Our hands are barely involved. He’s holding my head like he doesn’t want me to move away from him but, other than that, we’re not touching. It’s just our lips melded together, our mouths moving with the same ferocity, the same urgent need.

  I barely hear the captain’s announcement over the PA—that we’ve cleared the turbulence—but Holden must because his hands reach for my buckle, undoing it and then freeing his, before pulling me onto his lap so my legs are straddling him and his cock is right where I need it. Inwardly I curse Eve and her naked shame, because clothing seems like an impossible cruelty now and I wish it had never been invented.

  ‘Let’s take this to the bedroom.’

  I’m so hot, so wet. I push up to standing, my knees unsteady, straightening my shirt on autopilot, even when I anticipate being naked any minute now. His eyes catch the gesture and his lopsided smile shows he’s thinking the same thing I am.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Hart. I’ve got a coffee here for you.’

  My heart moves to my throat. I whirl around, sure my face must show a thousand shades of guilt when I see Edward standing looking at us both.

  His eyes reveal not a thing, but how could he not realise what we’ve just been doing? My cheeks flame pink and, despite the thousand and one reasons I had for not caring about what we were about to do, suddenly I feel a dizzying sense of relief that common sense interrupted—in the form of Edward—before I let things go too far.

  ‘Excuse me.’ I barely blink in Holden’s direction before striding from the cabin, my blood rushing so fast it’s all I can hear.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Two hours out of Sydney

  ‘HE’S NOT A BAD GUY.’

  Edward’s in the galley, putting fruit on a plate. I reach over and take a strawberry. It’s sweet, courtesy of the beautiful summer we’ve been having.

  ‘Usually, anyway.’

  ‘Oh?’ I pretend no interest but I’m still troubled by the way I fell into Holden’s arms. There’s nothing wrong with that, it’s just not in my nature to be so spontaneous, and I have no idea what kind of voodoo he used, or spell he cast, to make me go weak at the knees without so much as dinner first.

  ‘Don’t get me wrong, he’s hardly Joe Civil but he’s decent enough.’ He lifts his face towards mine, his hair greying at the temples, his face pleasingly lined—proof of a life filled with smiles. ‘But he’s not the kind of guy you’d want to get involved with.’

  Heat floods my face. I’m sure I must be as pink as the berry I’ve just eaten. I don’t say anything in response.

  Edward’s smile is awkward. ‘I mean, he entertains on the jet often.’

  My stomach tightens for no reason I can think of. I have no right to feel annoyed. He’s trying to give me a kindly warning and, besides, Holden hasn’t said or done anything to contradict what Edward’s saying. It’s not news to me. I shouldn’t care. I don’t care.

  ‘I’ll bet.’ I smile to show I’m not offended or bothered.

  ‘Amy mentioned you recently broke up with a guy?’

  I still, frowning. Grant’s a long way in my past, our break-up was over a year ago, but that’s not why I pause. It feels disconcerting that Amy would have discussed me with a colleague, until I remember that she’s been seeing someone lately.

  ‘Oh, my God. You’re Eddy?’

  He grins, but shifts his gaze towards the curtain. Suddenly, a lot of things make sense. Why he’s being so kind to me, why he cares that I was about to go to bed with a man-whore like Holden.

  ‘We’re keeping it on the down-low. It’s not exactly smiled upon and neither of us wants to risk our job.’

  ‘Of course.’ I nod. ‘I understand that.’

  ‘So she’s mentioned me?’

  Bless him. His probing question is charming. I lift my shoulders. ‘Amy doesn’t kiss and tell.’

  He laughs. ‘Okay, but at least you know who I am.’

  I reach for another strawberry.

  ‘Anyway, he’s a nice guy like I said, a great boss, but he’s not someone I’d ever recommend getting involved with. Unless you’re after one night of mad sex—no guarantee he’ll remember your name the next day.’

  ‘Got it.’ I stand up, wiping my hands on a paper towel before discarding it in the bin.

  ‘I mean—’

  I lift a hand, stalling him. ‘Eddy, we don’t need to talk about this any more, okay? I get it.’

  ‘Okay.’ His breath whooshes out in relief. ‘You don’t need to see him again. You’ve been working all flight. We’ll take over now.’ I nod distractedly. Is that what I want? To not see Holden again?

  Chicken, a little voice inside my mind taunts. As if running away is what I want to do.

  What’s so wrong with a one-night stand anyway? Nothing.

  That’s what I wanted.

  I’m not interested in dating, and I’m definitely not interested in dating a guy like Holden, so Eddy’s revelation shouldn’t have changed a thing for me.

  What does that mean? I look towards the curtain uncertainly, doubts plaguing me.

  Wanting someone is one thing.

  Acting on it quite another.

  And yet... I make a tea and try not to think about it. Instead, I focus on the fact I’ll be in Sydney again, my future a blank roll of film waiting for me to mark the image of my future on it as I see fit. That’s what I need to focus on, not the fact Holden’s chest felt like it would be filled with rippling abs.

  ‘He’s asking for you.’

  I jolt at the interruption. One of the other flight crew walks in—a girl, Belinda? I smile, even as my heart is erupting. ‘Says you were halfway through an interesting conversation before and he wants to hear the end of it?’

  A smile curls the edges of my lips. Does he indeed?

  ‘Do me a favour?’

  Belinda lifts a brow and says nothing.

  ‘Just tell him I’m busy. I’ll get to him if I can.’

  Her jaw drops. ‘Mr Hart won’t like that.’

  ‘No, I don’t think he will.’

  * * *

  Busy? I glare at Belinda but that’s nothing new. Since I found out I’m not a Hart I’ve pretty much had one setting: scowl.

  Busy.

  Busy doing what? It’s my goddamned jet.

  ‘Oh? Can you take over from whatever it is she’s doing?’

  ‘Um...’ Belinda casts a glance over her shoulder. ‘I’ll see.’

  * * *

  ‘He’s kind of pissed off.’

  I sip my tea, flipping a page of the magazine.

  ‘Is he?’

  ‘What were you two talking about?’

  I catch Eddy’s eye over Belinda’s head and suppress a smile. ‘Nothing important.’

  ‘Yeah, well, he seems to disagree.’

  ‘Tell him I’ll get to him if I can.’

  ‘Seriously—’ Belinda shakes her head ‘—no way. He’ll shoot the messenger.’

  I sip my tea again. ‘Last message, I promise.’

  * * *

  ‘For God’s sake. Where is she?’

  ‘In the galley, sir.’

  ‘Tell her if she doesn’t drop whatever the hell she’s doing I’ll throw her out an emergency exit.’

 
Belinda’s jaw drops. I’m not surprised. It’s too much, even for me.

  ‘I—’

  ‘Now.’ I turn my attention to the paper but the throbbing in my cock makes it impossible to concentrate.

  * * *

  I laugh. Belinda looks like she’s about to pass out. ‘Just don’t go out there again,’ I say quietly.

  ‘I don’t get it. What’s going on?’

  ‘I just think it won’t do him any harm to wait, that’s all.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I’m not the one he’s threatening to throw out of the airplane.’

  I grin, flipping the page of my magazine, pretending to read whilst stilling my beating heart.

  * * *

  ‘What the hell are you playing at?’

  I tap my fingers on the armrest, watching as she walks towards me so slowly it’s a form of torture in and of itself. She blinks her huge caramel eyes, her lashes long, her smile a master class in enigma even the Mona Lisa could learn a thing or two from.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Like hell you don’t.’ I stand out of the seat, moving towards her, stopping just short of touching her. ‘Why didn’t you come in here?’ The words emerge as a petulant growl.

  ‘I’m on a break.’ She lifts her shoulders, her eyes fixing on mine. ‘In fact, I’ve been working all night and now I need to have a rest.’

  ‘A rest?’ I repeat, completely confounded.

  She nods slowly, a single finger lifting to the top button of my shirt and flicking it. ‘Know somewhere I could lie down?’

  Relief pours through me. Whatever game she was playing before, she’s stopped.

  ‘Yes.’ I lace my fingers through hers and pull her after me, through the cabin, past the boardroom, into one of the bedrooms. I drag her into my arms as I kick the door shut, kissing her again—apparently I’ve forgotten that I don’t ordinarily kiss. ‘Will this do?’

  She doesn’t break the kiss, nor does she look around the room. ‘Perfectly.’