This flight, though? I was one bad patch of turbulence away from clawing straight through the armrest.
Three hours. Three hours of recycled air and the constant reminder that thousands of feet separated me from solid ground.
My knee bounced restlessly, nails dug into the armrest.
“Junie.” His voice came soft, low, and far too knowing, handcupping my cheek. His thumb brushed along my cheekbone gently… I might havemeltedinto him, had we been on the ground and not shaking on a metal death trap.
“I’m fine,” I muttered. I wasn’t fine. I wasfarfrom it.
Ansel’s other hand slid over mine, warm and steady, stilling my trembling fingers, if only for a moment. “You’re gonna rattle the whole damn plane like that.”
My eyes flicked to him — baseball cap turned backwards and that infuriating grin tugging at his mouth.
“You’re enjoying this,” I hissed.
“Maybe a little,” he said easily. His thumb brushed over my knuckles. “But mostly? I don’t enjoy seeing you wound up.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he leaned in closer, voice just for me. “Let me help.”
My stomach flipped. “Ansel?—”
But he was already waving down a flight attendant. “My girl is cold; can we get a blanket?” He asked with his charming smile, and she handed him a soft, folded blanket less than a minute later.
My girl.
God, just those two words curled around my ribcage.
With an effortless motion, he draped the blanket over both of our laps, adjusting himself in his seat so he was closer to me.
“Blanket’s right here. Nobody’ll know. You just gotta be quiet for me, sweetheart.”
My eyes widened. “Are you—? No. Absolutely not.”
His grin tilted, slow and lethal. “Junie.”
I shook my head fast, too fast. The idea of him…
Absolutely not.
But his grin… The way his fingers lingered over my skin. What he was suggesting was ludicrous. Indecent.
Illegal.
And yet, he raised an eyebrow at me, wetting his lips. “Come on, kid. Let me calm you down.”
And… God help me, I nodded.
The blanket shifted, casual, innocent — except for the way his hand furthest from me slid up my bare thigh under the hem of my dress.
I gripped the armrest tighter.
“Relax for me.” His breath was warm against my ear. “Just breathe.”
I tried — I really did — but when his fingers traced soft circles higher and higher, my breath hitched audibly. He crept upsoslowly, leaving a trail of gooseflesh on my skin. “There,” he was grinning. “Almost there, baby.” His finger brushed against my underwear, and I gasped.
“Shhh,” he pressed against my wetness, and it took all my self-control not to squirm in my seat. “Don’t want anyone to hear. These sounds?” He pressed again, just barely grazing my clit. “Just for me, Juniper. No one else.”
I turned my face toward him, desperate, eyes wide and dark. He lookedwrecked— mouth parted, jaw tense, but so in control it made me dizzy. “Say my name,” he coaxed softly, pulling the damp fabric of my underwear aside.
