thirty-nine
When the plane lands,it jerks me awake. Rowan was right about the sleeping pods. I was able to catch up on some much-needed sleep.
Thank fuck we’re in the same time zone. I’m not the best traveler.
Stretching my arms in the air, I rock my head back and forth, sneaking a glance. Eyes closed, he’s resting his head back against the seat.
He didn’t shave this morning, so he’s sporting a little more than a five o’clock shadow. It’s a little on the lighter side compared to the caramel tone of his hair, almost reddish. And fuck if I’m not here for it.
Hair a rumpled, sexy mess, his thick, dark eyelashes fan across his face. Lips slightly parted, his muscular chest rises and falls with each soft breath.
The sudden urge to lean over and press my lips to his comes right out of left field, and it causes me to suck in a breath.
“I can feel your eyes on me, Izzy.”
Mother. Fucker.
“Fuck off. No, you can’t.”
Before I can look away, he cracks one eye open, smirking when he catches me staring at his mouth.
“Did you sleep okay?”
I look away, focusing my attention on folding the blanket I’d used during my nap. “I did. Thanks.”
“Good.”
The plane taxis down the runway, slowing as it nears the PBB. Before it even comes to a complete stop, the cabin erupts with movement from all the passengers hurriedly gathering their belongings, vying for the opportunity to be the first to get off the plane.
Shoving his hat and sunglasses on, Rowan gets up to grab our bags from the overhead compartment.
Comments from “Love your movies,” to “I love you, Rowan Cole!” come from passengers as they shuffle past.
Rowan just grins and nods, saying, “Thanks so much,” and “Appreciate it.”
After handing me my bag, he grabs my hand. “You might want to put your sunglasses on. The flashbulbs can get pretty bright, even in daylight.”
“Flashbulbs?”
He wasn’t kidding. As soon as we exit the walkway leading us off the plane, things go from calm to chaotic in an instant.
Lights flash as photographers shout Rowan’s name, taking pictures while shoving at each other to get in a good spot for a better shot.
A Black man in a dark suit—who must be at least six foot three and no less than two-hundred and fifty pounds—suddenly shows up out of nowhere, making me take a step back in alarm.
“It’s okay, Iz,” Rowan says, squeezing my hand. “This is Evo. My bodyguard and driver. Evo. This is Lizzy. My girlfriend.”
Jeez, he’s a big dude.
Evo nods his head once. “Miss Lizzy.”
“Giant.”
Evo’s eyes sparkle, lips twitching before he falls back into serious mode and glances at Rowan. “Car’s waiting. Let’s go.”
We hurry after Evo as he moves through the crowd like he’s Moses parting the Red freakin’ Sea.
Head down, I keep my focus on the heels of Evo’s shoes and the firm grip of Rowan’s hand holding mine.
