Her mouth parts in offense, but no argument comes. Even drunk, she knows when a lie has no legs. Instead, she looks around the first-class suite instead, as if truly seeing it for the first time. The wide leather seat. The little lamp. The folded blanket. The glass panel that gives the illusion of privacy. Her fingers skim the armrest with wonder she tries and fails to hide.
“This is ridiculous,” she whispers.
“It’s a seat.”
“No.” Her gaze moves slowly over everything. “This is not a seat. This is definitely more than what I can afford.” Her mouth twitches, then falls again. “I can pay you back.”
“I know. You made that very clear.”
“Well… I mean it.”
“I know that, too.”
“No, you don’t.” She leans closer, and the scent of her reaches me again.
“You did run away with no plan.”
Her eyes flash. “That’s not the point.”
“You’re very irritating.”
“So I have been told.”
She stares at me for a long moment. Then her voice drops. Not much. Enough. “How about I do this? Will this be irritating?”
One hand comes to my shoulder, light at first, then gripping the fabric of my jacket as if she needs it to steady herself. Her face is close enough now that I can see the faint dampness still clinging to her lower lashes.
I should move back. She’s had too much to drink. She’s not thinking clearly.
Iknowall of this. I know it in the same cold, certain part of me that has kept me alive for decades.
But then her mouth touches mine, soft and warm. She’s uncertain for half a heartbeat before her mouth opens under mine.
And fuck me, I’m gone.
4
KATERINA
At first,I think he’ll not kiss me back.
For one terrifying second, Roman is completely still beneath my mouth. His hand is braced beside my seat, his body close enough to make the air feel warmer, but he doesn’t move.
Then something in him gives.
His mouth opens over mine, and the whole world narrows.
The cabin disappears.
The voices, the lights, the flight attendants moving through the aisle, the soft mechanical hum of the aircraft. All of it slips away until there is only the heat of his lips and the low sound he makes when I grip his jacket harder.
It should scare me, how fast I forget myself. But it doesn’t.
I kiss him like I’ve been starving for this exact kind of ruin.
He tastes like mint and whiskey and something darker, something that belongs only to him. His beard scrapes gently against my chin. His hand comes to the side of my face, notsoft, not rough, just certain. Like he knows exactly how to hold a woman without asking permission from the room.
I make a sound against his mouth. I can’t help it.