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I mirror his expression, letting my smile say everything my words cannot.
Yes, I'm attracted to you too.
Yes, I'm impatient.
And yes, oh yes, I'm yours for the taking.
Our connection pulses, a heartbeat thrumming through the airport, promising turbulence of the best kind.
CHAPTER
FOUR
Ben
The night is young, and so is she, Kate Woodbridge, with those honey-colored locks that seem to catch each glimmer of light in the dimly lit bar. For weeks now we’ve talked every chance we get after her film shoots, after flights. Any chance we get.
Tonight, we've been talking for hours, but time seems to bend around her—slipping, sliding, a playful thing that doesn't want to be caught.
"Ben," she says, her voice a melody that dances over my skin, "I don't want this night to end. Come back to my hotel room with me?"
Does she even have to ask? I'm already nodding, already picturing being alone with her. My heart beats a frantic rhythm, like it knows what's coming, what's inevitable between us.
We make our way through the lobby, two people drawn together by an invisible thread. The elevator ride up is charged, thick with unspoken promises. Her room is on the thirty-second floor, high above the world, a nest made just for us.
She opens the door, and we step into her sanctuary. It's fancy, alright, all plush furnishings and subtle elegance. But none of that compares to the electric thrill that zaps through me when she locks the door with a soft click and turns to look at me. Her eyes are oceans of green, deep and inviting. I'm ready to dive in.
"Wow," I manage to say, taking in the grandeur of the place and the woman who stands in the middle of it.
"Like it?" Kate asks, a playful tilt to her lips.
"Love it. But I prefer the view right here." I gesture toward her, because really, what can beat the sight of Kate Woodbridge looking at you like you're the only man in the world?
I take a step closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her body. My hand lifts almost of its own accord, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The move is simple, but her reaction is anything but—a shudder that rolls down her spine, visible even in the low lighting.
The silence between us crackles with electricity, every breath she takes seems to pull me closer. My fingers trail down her cheek, the skin there softer than any silk I've ever touched. She leans into my hand like a flower reaching for the sun, and it's all the permission I need.
"Kate," I whisper, my voice barely above a growl. It's filled with every ounce of longing that's been building inside of me since the moment I saw her.
Her eyes flicker with heat, her lips parting slightly as if ready to devour whatever comes next. I cup her face with both hands, feeling the gentle curve of her cheeks beneath my thumbs. The world outside this room, outside this moment, fades away until there's nothing but Kate—her scent, her warmth, her presence consuming all my senses.
I lean in, and damn, I want to savor this. Her breath comes out in a rush against my mouth, a silent plea. Her vulnerability is a beacon, drawing me into the depths of her green eyes. There's no turning back now—not that I'd want to.
"Ben, please," she murmurs, her voice a mix of innocence and invitation that hits me right in the gut.
"Fuck, Kate," I groan, and then I can’t stop my lips from seeking out hers.
Those beautiful fucking lips of hers that tortured me in my dreams, on that motherfucking TV.
Those leaps that I’ve dreamed about forever.
The moment our lips touch, it's like striking a match against dry kindling—the blaze is immediate, ravenous. There's no tentative exploration, no shy peck. This is raw desire, weeks of longing compressed into the urgent press of mouths and the tangle of tongues. Kate tastes like the sweetest sin, a decadent cocktail of innocence and Hollywood that I can't get enough of.
"Kate," I groan against her lips, the sound more animal than my usual pilot's calm. Our kiss deepens, fueled by a hunger that's been simmering since the moment I laid eyes on her. My hands, oh God, my hands start their own journey over the curves I've been dying to explore. Skimming down her sides, I feel the electric jolt of her shiver, and it's better than any high-altitude thrill I've ever had.
"Ben..." She gasps my name, and it's all the encouragement I need. My fingers trace the outline of her hips, branding her through the fabric of her dress with a heat that promises so much more. Every nerve ending in my body screams for closer contact as I pull her flush against me, feeling her softness pressed tight to every hard line of my frame.
"More," she whispers, a plea that reverberates through my entire being.
