But Riley’s head turned instantly, predator-sharp.
“Your friends are enthusiastic,” he said, lips curving. “Answer them.”
“I’ll do it later.”
“No,” he said gently, the word soft enough to chill bone. “Now.”
The jet touched down then, tires meeting the runway with a heavy, final thud. The cabin vibrated. The engines reversed with a roar. My heart hammered unevenly inside the noise.
We were trapped in our seats as we slowed. No escape, no space, no witnesses.
“Give me your phone, Luna.” He said it like it was nothing. Like it was inevitable.
“I’m not giving you—“
He reached over and unbuckled my belt with one flick of his fingers.
I froze.
His hand brushed my hip. Warm. Firm. Inescapable.
The jet rolled to a slower crawl.
“You’ll show me,” he murmured, leaning close enough that his breath skated along my jaw. “Or I’ll take it.”
I swallowed hard.
He waited.
The plane stopped. A soft chime rang. The flight attendant appeared at the front of the cabin, readying the door.
Everyone could see us now. But they weren’t looking. Or wouldn’t look. Loyalty, or fear, or habit. Whatever it was, it left me alone.
My fingers trembled as I picked up the phone.
I stood. Or tried to. My knees wobbled.
Riley rose behind me, close enough that his chest brushed my back. His presence thickened the air.
We walked down the narrow aisle together, his steps unhurried, mine unsteady. He didn’t touch me. He didn’t have to. The proximity was a tether around my ribs.
At the door, the stairs waited. Hot airport air wafted in, thick and dry compared to the cool cabin.
My phone buzzed again.
Riley leaned in, voice a razor kiss against my ear. “Show me.”
I should have said no.
I should have fought.
But the messages, the stranger, the risk, I couldn’t let him see those.
So I opened the group chat instead.
Three new messages blinked onscreen.
Riley chuckled softly behind me.
