“New York,” I answer, only because it would be rude not to. “Manhattan.”
“That’s exciting! I used to love going into the city. My family lives in New Jersey. Hoboken,” she adds with a wink. “I haven’t been back to see them for a long time. Not since I moved to Arizona a few years ago. Have you ever been to Sedona?”
I remove one earbud, giving up on the idea of having any kind of peace so long as I’m seated next to the most effervescent woman I’ve ever met. “Sedona, Arizona? No, I can’t say that I have even been there.”
“You should go sometime. It’s really beautiful. Red rock canyons, beautiful waterfalls, and some really powerful, mystical energy…”
I scoff, amused. “I don’t believe in mystical energy—powerful or otherwise.”
“Youshouldbelieve in it,” she says, a serious look in her eyes. “It’s no joke, Alec. You said yourself you’re trying to relax, right? A place like Sedona is good for your soul.”
“Ah. Well, there’s the problem. I don’t have a soul.”
I’m joking, but she gapes at me as if she’s waiting for me to sprout horns any second now. Around this same time, the plane levels off, and the seatbelt sign chimes off. Almost immediately, she starts fidgeting again.
“Don’t hate me, but I should probably use the restroom before they start the beverage service,” she says, already unbuckling her seatbelt. “Sorry, I swear I have a pea-sized bladder. TMI, right? I tend to overshare when I’m excited.”
She pops out of her seat with a smile. “Don’t get up,” she says, placing her hand on my shoulder again as she starts to maneuver around me. “I’m a pro at this now. Besides, I don’t want to disturb you any more than I already have, so I’ll just… climb… over…”
I’m acutely aware of every inch of her as she moves in front of me—the way her dress brushes against my arm, the warmth of her body as she steps between my spread thighs, the soft sound of her breath as she navigates the tight space, her nice ass shimmying past my face with every awkward step.
She emerges into the aisle with a little laugh, her cheeks pink as she looks at me. “Sorry, that was harder than I expected.”
Little does she know,I think, shifting uncomfortably in my seat.
Jesus Christ. Get it together, Beckett.
“I’ll be right back, Alec,” she assures me before she heads to the restroom at the front of the cabin.
I watch her walk away—which is a mistake, because the view is exactly as distracting as I knew it would be. I’m supposed to be relaxing, not getting turned on by the most annoying woman on the plane. I force myself to look out the window at the clouds she seemed to be so mesmerized by earlier. They’re just water vapor. Nothing magical about them.
When she comes back a few minutes later, I practically leap out of my seat to let her climb back into hers without igniting everything male inside me. Even still, I find myself holding my breath until she’s safely settled back in her seat.
“Sorry,” she breathes as she settles back into her seat, and I notice her cheeks are flushed too. “I’ll try not to bother you again.”
I grunt something noncommittal and immediately put my earbuds back in, cranking up the volume on the meditation app. Maybe if I focus hard enough on the narrator’s funeral-home voice, I can forget about the way her body felt pressed against mine.
“Close your eyes and return to your place of peaceful sanctuary,” the app instructs.
Right. My nonexistent place of peace that’s currently being invaded by a woman who smells like sunshine and makes my pulse race in ways that could literally kill me.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to conjure something—anything—calming. But all I can think about is the warmth of her hand on my shoulder and the soft sound she made when she brushed against me.
This is exactly the opposite of what Dr. Vaughn ordered.
CHAPTER 4
ELLA
Okay, so my seatmate is officially the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in real life.
I steal another glance at Alec-No-Last-Name-Given while he’s staring down at his hands with the kind of brooding intensity that belongs in a cologne commercial. Dark brown hair that’s perfectly styled even after hours of travel. Mesmerizing green eyes that would be stunning if they weren’t constantly narrowed in what appears to be his default state of mild irritation with the universe. And that squared jawline? Dear God, that jawline is so sharp it could cut glass.
He’s also tall, a fact I noticed when he stood to let me back to my seat. His broad shoulders fill out his crisp white button-down shirt perfectly. The sleeves are rolled up to his forearms, revealing strong wrists and hands that look like they could handle anything. Including a woman’s body. Not that I mean mine.
Damn. He may be uptight, but he sure is nice to look at. Not to mention way out of my league.
Even his “casual” clothes scream money and taste—the shirt looks expensive, and his dark jeans fit him like they were tailored specifically for his long legs. Basically, he looks like hestepped off a yacht in the Mediterranean and somehow ended up slumming it in first class with us mere mortals.
