Relief. Sweet, glorious relief. Until she mutters in her sleep. Soft. Dreamy. Barely there.
“Mmm…sobig.”
My pulse is now rewriting the laws of physics and I’m about five seconds from spontaneous human combustion.
CHAPTER 37
VOM-COM
RORIE
The tarmac shimmersunder the tropical sun, the horizon a wobbling mirage. Heat punches us in the face the second we step off the stairs. This heat doesn’t politely warm your shoulders like a gentle, tropical breeze. No. This heat fucks. Relentless, sweaty, grabs you by the throat, grips around your thighs, slides under your bra, and settles somewhere deep in the hormonal core.
Or that’s just sixteen hours sitting next to Nolan“Sex with a Pulse”Rhodes. The man made me horny by breathing.
“Jesus,” Maya mutters, fanning herself with an oversized hat. “Did we land in someone’s armpit?”
“More like ballsack.” Jeremy adjusts his oversized sunglasses. “I’d want to formally request a refund.” He glances over at me, sees me sneering at him. “You aren’t still mad are you?”
“Yes.” Traitorous, scheming bastard. My glare could fry electronics. “You set me up.”
He raises both brows behind obnoxiously large sunglasses. “Set you up forsuccess, thank you very much. Some people call that friendship. I call it horny humanitarianism. I did it because I still believe in you two.”
I gape. “You are theworst.”
“In approximately twenty-four hours, you’ll be thanking me. Possibly mid-orgasm. Possibly in interpretive dance.”
“Jeremy—”
He holds up a finger. “I don’t want details. But if he ruins your posture and rewires your brain, Idowant a positive review.”
I roll my eyes so hard I practically give myself a migraine. “You need professional help.”
“I need SPF 500 and a therapist who doesn’t flinch when I talk about lube preferences. We all have dreams.”
Maya snorts. I turn away to hide my smirk and that’s when I see him.
Nolan is standing to the side, talking to Rishi and a few other people. Of course he’s already networking. Of course he looks tan and smug and as though the only thing he’s ever lost in life was patience.
And of course, he turns.
A hint of collarbone shows, and his sunglasses are hooked onto the neckline like he woke up in a GQ ad and decided to stay there.
My mouth goes dry.
Our eyes connect. Heat flares in my cheeks. Not the sun’s fault this time.
Jeremy follows my gaze, then says. “There he is. The reason your vibrator’s been working overtime.”
I don’t respond. I just keep staring. Don’t think I didn’t consider joining the Mile High Club with the travel-sized rose stashed in my carry-on.
Because the whole trip, Nolan wastooclose. Too big. Too everything.
His thigh touched mine more than once, and neither of us moved, or shifted. We just sat there. Let it happen. Our legs were seemingly on some kind of mutually assured destruction pact and committed to the bit.
Which, fine. Whatever. Airplanes are tight quarters. Appendage grazing happens.Except this one isn’t.This one has more legroom than my apartment. Which means the only reason Nolan Rhodes’s thigh was pressed against mine for half the flight is because he let it be.
And I, in a moment of unparalleled self-control failure, let it stay.
