I gave him a curt nod, hoping he’d drop the matter and leave me the hell alone. He seemed unconvinced, so I smiled and tried to distract both of us by talking about New York. I’d visited a few times while attending MIT, and I’d always longed to attend a Broadway show. I doubted there’d be time for that, but we didn’t have any meetings until the morning.
I thought I was doing fine or, at least, giving the appearance of it. But then the pilot asked the flight attendants to prepare for takeoff, and my heart rate ratcheted up. I busied myself with the in-flight magazine, quickly returning it to its place before reaching for my Kindle. I’d read the same sentence twice when the plane started to race down the runway. My stomach was in my throat, and I was holding my breath so I wouldn’t be sick.
“Sumner.” Jonathan placed his hand on mine, his touch warm, comforting. “Breathe.”
My gaze snapped to his. It wasn’t the first time we’d touched, but something about it felt more intentional, more electric. That was the only word to describe it. My body hummed, every neuron firing all of a sudden like a generator that kick-started to life. And he was only touching my hand. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have him touch me…other places.
“That’s it,” he said in a calm, soothing tone. I didn’t realize how tightly I’d been gripping the armrests until I shook out my free hand. “There you go.”
My heart rate alternated between excitement and calm, though it was no longer solely due to the flight. This man had my heart racing and my stomach in knots. I was so preoccupied, I didn’t realize the plane had leveled out and the roar of the engines had become more of a distant hum.
He signaled to the flight attendant, speaking to her briefly before she returned with a tumbler of amber liquid. “Here. Drink this,” he said, handing it to me.
I eyed the glass, not sure it was a good idea. Perhaps sensing my hesitation, he nudged it in my direction, “Come on, Sum. Trust me, it’ll help.”
I nodded, accepting it and downing a large gulp. “Ah.” I winced. “That burns.”
He studied me, and I continued to evaluate the assault on my senses. Everything felt…fuzzy. Softer, somehow.
“Oh wow. That’s—” I shook my head, placing a finger to my mouth as if to stifle my giggles. “My lips are tingling.” I giggled some more, feeling as if my head were floating. “Is that normal?”
His deep chuckle warmed my belly like the whiskey heating my insides. It was an odd, but pleasant, sensation. And I wanted more of it—both the whiskey and the man.
“Let me have a taste.” He leaned in, and for a moment, I thought he’d sample it from my lips. But then he took the glass and raised it to his mouth. He placed his lips to the exact spot where my lipstick marked the glass.
He watched me over the rim of the glass, taking a sip before setting it back down. “Yep. Maker’s Mark.” He licked his lips, and I stared at him, my mouth watering at the sight. “You’ve never had whiskey, have you?”
I laughed. “Is it that obvious?”
He chuckled. “One day, I’ll have to give you a proper tasting.”
He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but the flight attendant interrupted. “Would you like a refill?”
He held my gaze a moment longer before turning his attention to her. My thoughts felt hazy, and I closed my eyes.
I must have fallen asleep because I awoke with a start, my stomach jolting along with the plane. Fear bubbled up inside me, and I glanced around, surprised to see Jonathan sitting next to me.
Is this a dream?
“Hey there.” He smiled, placing his hand on my forearm. “You okay?”
Yep, definitely a dream.
“No.” He chuckled, making me realize I’d said the last part aloud. “You fell asleep.”
The plane bounced again, and I clutched at my neck as if my oxygen supply had been cut off. My eyes darted about the space, through the window, at the flight attendants. How could everyone be so calm?
“Is it hot in here?” I reached up and opened the vent with a jerky movement.
Was it even blowing? I started fanning myself with the in-flight magazine, which only made me queasy. Everything was too hot. Too tight. I couldn’t breathe. I plucked at the buttons on my shirt, the feeling of being strangled lessening slightly with each one I loosened.
“Sumner?” He tilted his head, his expression one of concern. “What are you doing?” He gently placed his jacket over me like a shield.
“Is everything okay?” the flight attendant asked, false positivity ringing through her voice.
“We’re fine.” Jonathan’s smooth voice conveyed a sense of certainty that put me at ease. “Could you bring us some water and a charcuterie plate?”
“Sure thing,” she said, her eyes darting to me.
