Whatever the reason, I bite back a snippy retort about plying underage girls with alcohol and allow my eyes to flicker down to the silver flask clasped in his strong fingers. Those hands hold so much power. They’ve won three Pulitzer Prizes. Looking at them now, though… all I can think about is how they’d feel cuffing my throat like anecklace.
Bending me to hiswill.
I’ve never felt this way before. I barely recognize these strange desires swimming inside my head. It’s entirely out of character for me to be unhinged by the mere sight of a man’s hands, and yet… I want to trace their tendons, want to study every callus and learn everyline.
His throat clears softly, drawing my gaze up. I feel my cheeks heat, embarrassed by the strange course of my own thoughts. My heart thuds against my ribs like a wild animal trying to escape itscage.
“No,” I force out, breathing too hard. “N-no thankyou.”
“Suityourself.”
He shrugs and settles back against his seat. A few seconds later, we hit another dreadful bump of air, strong enough to jostle my entire body sideways. Biting the inside of my cheeks to suppress a squeak of fear, I watch as bolts of lightning streak the clouds just outside our windows. Planes may be engineered to survive a strike, but the thought of being hit with that much electricity sends a shiver down myspine.
I close my eyes to shut out the view and turn my focus inward, counting down in my head until the turbulencesubsides.
OneMississippi
TwoMississippi.
ThreeMississippi.
When the shaking ceases, I open my eyes and look straight into the stranger’s. He’s watching me again with that all-too-perceptive gaze. A true photographer, he takes inventory of every detail, from my white-knuckled grip on the armrests of my seat, to the tension in my ramrod spine, to the lack of blood in mycomplexion.
“What?” I snap thinly, annoyed by the implication in hiseyes.
“I didn’t sayanything.”
“Just because your mouth didn’t open, doesn’t mean you weren’tcommunicating.”
“Oh?” His eyebrow quirks. “And what, exactly, was I saying? Since you seem to be an expert in thematter.”
My teeth grind together. “You were judging me for— for beingafraid.”
His dark brows pull inward. When he does respond, his voice is uncharacteristically soft. Almost like he’s talking to himself. “Nothing wrong with fear. When you’re afraid, you know you’realive.”
I’m unsure how to respond. Every thought in my head seems painfully childish, every opinioninadequate.
“Anyway.” He seems to snap back into himself. His eyes refocus on mine. “What I wasactuallywondering…” His lips twist in a smirk as he turns the flask over in his hands. “Was how many bumps you’d last before you change yourmind.”
“I don’t—” My words turn to a wince as we hit more turbulence. I bite my lip and ride it out. “I don’t make a habit of drinking with strangers,” I say, when I’ve finally gotten ahold of myself. “Especially while I’m on theclock.”
His gaze moves to Samantha, who’s slackened face is half-concealed by a sleep mask. He doesn’t say a word, but I can read his thoughts like abillboard.
Your boss wouldn’t notice if you did a keg stand, let alone took a single sip from theflask.
I grimace as the whole jet jostles once more. This time, it takes five fullMississippisbefore we level out — and another five after that for my breathing to return tonormal.
Henotices.
“Nervous flyer,huh?”
I clench my jaw. “I’mfine.”
“You don’t look fine,” he says bluntly, eyes scanning my bloodless face. “You look like you’re about to passout.”
“If anything, my nausea is inspired by present company,” I say sweetly. “It has very little to do with theturbulence.”
He laughs, a flash of white teeth in the darkness of the cabin. My stomach clenches at the sight of his chiseled features smiling instead of smirking or scowling in my direction. Asshole or no, he remains the most attractive man I’ve ever seen, let alone had a conversationwith.