Chapter five
A Few Minutes Later
Theenginesgrowlbeneaththe floor as we prepare to taxi to the runway.
He gestures to the seat beside him, a decision sending a jolt to my heart even if I pretend otherwise. The leather is buttery soft and the seat is heated. His thigh is a mere inch from mine.
Too close. Not close enough.
He drains the rest of his champagne and rests his forearm on the armrest between us. I do the same and the flight attendant whisks the glasses away for takeoff.
There’s something about our energy tonight. It’s reckless. Dangerous.
The jet turns onto the runway. My stomach seizes. Zach glances at me. I hold his gaze.
We lift.
Seattle falls into a glitter of sparkly lights and our world narrows to cabin light, vibration, and electric energy.
The crew moves stealthily. Seatbelt signs chime off once we level. The forward cabin dims further, amber sliding into something softer.
New flutes of champagne are presented. I take a sip and allow the bubbles to settle under my tongue. Caviar service is placed between us with near silent precision. Silver lid lifted. Blinis.Crème fraîchesmooth as silk.
“You do realize,” I break the silence, “most people would have offered peanuts.”
He turns, glass resting between his fingers. “When will you get it through your thick head? I’m not most people. Especially to you.”
My pulse skitters.
I stare at him and laugh under my breath. “You’ve lost perspective.”
“Possibly.”
He spreadscrème fraîcheover a blini, adds a measured spoonful of caviar and hands it to me without breaking eye contact.
I take it. Our fingers brush. Salt and cream dissolve in my mouth. I close my eyes for a fraction of a second before opening them again.
“This is absurdly delicious,” I sigh.
“You deserve absurd.” He smiles. “Always have.”
I laugh nervously because…Jesus.
The flight attendant discreetly indicates the smaller dining table in the galley complete with white linen, candles encased in glass, and plates positioned dangerously close together.
Zach rises first, unhurried, and I follow him back as the cabin lights dim a fraction lower. We settle side by side, our shoulders nearly parallel. I can’t help but wonder if the arrangement is intentionally intimate.
We talk about safe things at first. Julian’s scheduling anxiety. Marisol’s obsession with Disney. Irving’s inability to sit through any ceremony without wry commentary.
Our knees keep touching, the contact accidental. In theory. Neither of us moves away. Every time the aircraft sways slightly, our legs brush together again, and a quiet pulse shoots through me before I can brace for it.
My senses are heightened. Hitched breath. Heat gathers fast in my core and lingers. Proximity to Zach is intoxicating, even through the layers of fabric. My body responds before my mind catches up.
I tell myself it’s the plush surroundings. The champagne. The altitude.
It isn’t.
Desire pools low and steady, spreading warmth through my stomach and down my spine. As if every nerve has woken at once. I’m hyperaware of the line of the faint flex of his body when he shifts. The space between us shrinking with each quiet adjustment.
