“Luv, I’ve just begun with you.”
My skin sears with the blaze of his stare on me. It scorches up my bare legs, over the swell of my breasts, and pauses on my slightly parted lips. I can’t see his eyes drag along my body but feel every inch of his perusal as if it brands me in the truth between us. Last night was only the beginning. A tiny fear whispers inside me that I may be love bombing myself, but the roar of my heart in Rowan’s presence drowns the protest.
“Now calling our passengers with disabilities requiring additional time to preboard flight sixteen-forty-two to Los Angeles,” the gate agent announces.
Rowan stands and slings our bags over his broad shoulders. “Ready?” His hand reaches out for me.
I take it. “Yes.”
A slight jitter meanders across my limbs as we settle in the second row of first class. It feels like a lifetime ago since Rowan snarled at the gate agent that he and his wife would be rebooked for today, but it was only yesterday when we adopted that little ruse after the flight attendant mistook us for a married couple.
“You okay?” His callused fingers squeeze mine.
“No. You?”
“Hey, if you can swim with sharks, you can do this.” He raises our joint fingers to his lips and kisses.
“I shouldn’t have told you that story. You’re going to think I’m way braver than I really am. It’s all bluster. I’m actually a wimp.”
“Care for a drink before takeoff?” the flight attendant asks.
“Yes.” I perk up. “My husband and I would like two glasses of champagne.”
“Very good,” the flight attendant drawls, walking away.
I lean into Rowan, my lips brushing the shell of his ear. “By the way, those are both for me. You know…liquid courage. I just didn’t want the flight attendant to get judgy about me double-fisting champagne.”
“If you stay that close to me, he may get judgy about me dragging you into the bathroom.” Rowan’s low timbre ignites my nerves.
“Well, after two glasses of bubbles, I may dragyouin there and let you bend me over the counter.” Sultriness coats my words.
“Christ,” he groans, laying his head back against the headrest. “Luv, I think a plane crash is the least of my worries right now.” He shifts in his seat, drawing my attention to his lap.
“Oooh.” My lips part. “Your mom naked.”
His head snaps to me. “What?”
I wave my hand toward his lap. “Think about something unsexy to help, er… deflate that situation. Not that I’m insulting your mom. I’m sure she’s a very sexy woman, but I’m assuming that you don’t think so.” My face pinches. “At least I hope so.”
He leans over and plants a laughing kiss. “How are you both adorable and sexy?”
I nuzzle my nose against his. “Ditto.”
“JoJo’s picking you up at the airport, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you think”—Rowan twists a tendril of my hair around his finger— “she’d mind if I took you home instead. I realize this is a little greedy of me, but I don’t think I’m ready to say goodbye to you at baggage claim.”
“First,” I say as I stroke my fingers against his beard, “it’s not goodbye; it’s a see you later. Second, I’ve promised to process the last week with her. She’s a licensed clinical social worker and lives for that shit.”
“I get it.” A sad smile curls his lips. “How was it being back for your aunt’s ceremony?” His fingers skate over the top of my hand.
Threatening tears sting my nose. I turn my head and peer out the window. Below me carts whizz by. Workers in yellow vests scatter across the tarmac.
“If you want to wait to talk about it with JoJo, it’s okay. We can talk about anything you want, or we don’t talk at all. You mentioned your audiobook on the drive up. We could do that.”
Brows knitted, I twist. “We?”
