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I don’t know why I’m so eager to give it back, considering I was fighting to put as much space between us as possible just a few moments ago. Maybe a part of me wants to catch one more glimpse, one more touch of his hands, before he’s gone.
How often is it that a rich, sexy silver fox corners a girl in the bathroom and demands her confession? I’d be a liar if I said my panties weren’t soaking. Every time I close my eyes, I imagine he’s still in front of me, willing to do whatever it takes to make me call out his name.
But when I step into the busy airport terminal, he’s already gone, swallowed up by the crowd like a phantom.
“Damn it,” I whisper, clutching his shirt to my chest. The lingering scent of his cologne fills my senses, a haunting reminder of the dangerous temptation I just encountered. It’s clear that this stranger has awakened something within me.
3
BRIELLE
The engine roars, building to a crescendo as the plane prepares for takeoff. My heart races in my chest, the pounding syncopating with each rumble of the aircraft. Heights have never been my friend, and being trapped inside this metal sky-beast doesn’t help. I grip the armrests of my seat desperately, knuckles turning white, trying to keep my breath even. If only I had an aisle seat, then at least I wouldn’t have to look out the window.
Dad booked this flight for me, and I doubt he checked the seating arrangement. Not that I can blame him—he has enough on his plate.
As long as I don’t look outside, I should be fine.
“Hey there,” a raspy voice interrupts my thoughts. The man beside me is short and pudgy, his yellowed teeth clashing against his grimy smile. He reaches over and puts his hand on mine, sticky fingers intertwining with my own. “Everything’s gonna work out, sweetheart.”
His touch makes my skin crawl, but I hold back my initial reaction and offer him a strained smile. His eyes linger on me, a predatory gleam hidden behind his dirty spectacles. I try to hide how uncomfortable his touch makes me feel, focusing on breathing steadily while anticipating the moment when we finally reach cruising altitude.
“Name’s Vinny,” he says, his voice oily like a used-car salesman. “We’re gonna be on a long trip together. Might as well get to know one another, right?”
Heck no. But, I don’t want to be rude. Like he said, it’s a long flight ahead of us.
I nod, swallowing my apprehension. A part of me wants to yank my hand away, but I fear the consequences if I do. I’ve always been too polite for my own good, and I can’t risk provoking a crazy person.
“Nice to meet you, Vinny,” I respond, my voice barely audible above the deafening engine.
“Likewise,” he replies, his fingers tightening around mine as the plane speeds up for takeoff.
Vinny’s laugh cuts through the air like a rusty chainsaw, each cackle a sign of his many years spent smoking. “You’re beautiful, ya know?” he says, giving me a sly grin.
“Thank you,” I reply with a tight-lipped smile, trying to maintain my composure. His presence is suffocating, and I long for an escape from his grasp.
As if on cue, a flight attendant appears beside our seats, her eyes flicking between us. “You two make such a cute couple!” she exclaims, oblivious to my discomfort.
“Actually, we—” I start, but Vinny interrupts, his grip on my hand tightening.
“Thanks! I’m a lucky guy, aren’t I?” he boasts, devouring the attention like a starved animal.
My heart races in panic, and I swallow hard, forcing a smile. I can’t let him see how unnerved I am; provoking a man like Vinny could be disastrous. Instead, I retreat into my own thoughts, praying that this flight will end sooner rather than later.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” the flight attendant asks, pulling me back to reality.
“Actually, is there a bathroom nearby?” I ask the flight attendant, desperate for an escape from Vinny’s suffocating presence.
“Of course,” Chelsea—if the name on her shirt is right—replies with a grin, pointing toward the back of the plane. “Just down the aisle.”
“Thank you,” I mumble, extracting my hand from Vinny’s clammy grip and rising to my feet. He leers at me, a sluggish grin spreading across his face.
“Be sure to hurry back, beautiful,” he drawls, and I suppress a shudder as I turn away.
The man has to be delusional.
I make my way down the aisle, feeling more like a caged animal with each step. The plane is small, its confined space only amplifying my unease. Thankfully, there aren’t many passengers to witness my distress, but I can’t shake the sensation that I’m walking on air, suspended miles above solid ground.
As if to confirm my fears, the plane gives a sudden jolt, throwing me off-balance. My heart leaps into my throat, and I stumble forward, bracing myself against the door to steady my trembling limbs. With a quick, shallow breath, I turn the doorknob and slip inside, seeking refuge in the cramped confines of the restroom.
