And sixteen hours of altitude-fueled tension.
What could possibly go wrong?
CHAPTER 36
STUCK BETWEEN A DREAM GIRL AND A HARD PLACE. LITERALLY.
NOLAN
We’ve just enteredhostile airspace.
I look up at Rorie and catch a flash of resignation in her eyes. Or annoyance.
Yeah, probably annoyance.
Though it could be something else entirely. One I can’t name, but it knocks me just off-center.
When she slides into the seat beside me, her thigh brushes mine. My body locks up tight.
“So,” I say casually, “are you planning to stab me mid-flight?”
She tilts her head, weighing it. “We’ll see how the first hour goes.”
Christ. Why is that hot?
My gaze snags on her lips, and everything in me goes very, very still.
And then loud.
She’s here. Next to me. In the flesh. Flushed and fine and infuriating.
And every ounce of self-control I had? Gone. Blown straight out the emergency exit.
The reasons I told myself to back off? Disintegrated. Burned alive in the pressurized cabin air.
All I want is her.
She’s settling in, oblivious to the fact that she’s detonated mynervous system. And then my imagination—traitorous as ever—launches straight into a visual.
I don’t just think about her mouth. I see it.Feel it.
The drag of her tongue. The slow, punishing pace. Her lips wrapped around me as I fist her hair and force her to take more?—
Shit! I’m fucking hard.
Dying inside, I adjust in my seat, subtly, discreetly, because my dick is clearly on a different page than my brain. This is bad. I’m wearing gray joggers.Gray. The official flag of “Hey, look at my boner.”
She smooths out her shirt and clicks her seatbelt. And it’s only now I realize she’s not in one of her usual man killer outfits and heels.
She’s in leggings and a ribbed tank, chambray shirt hanging open as though it was a casual afterthought. Hair in a messy bun that makes her look like sex incarnate. Her scent drifts over—citrusy and soft—and I’m already undone.
And knowing that she might not be wearing anything under those leggings, makes my already inconvenient boner, rock fucking hard.
A few minutes of the worst awkward silence in history go by. My mind keeps drifting to her. Mostly how she made me feel. The way she looked at me like I was the most annoying man alive yet somehow still worth her time.
I miss that. I hate that I miss that.
“Your team ready?” I ask, grasping for neutral.
