A few hours later, Kai is dressed down in sweats and a tank, a weekender bag over his shoulder. When he boards your plane in Miami, you don’t know what shocks him more: the sight of you, or the sight of the dozens of hot-pink roses in vases scattered around the cabin.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you until I landed,” he says.
“Surprise?”
“Did you rob a florist on the way from Nashville?” Bemused, he touches one of the blooms.
You can’t help the grin on your face as you go up on tiptoe to kiss him. “There’s 85 altogether,” you explain. “One for each million on the contract.”
He rolls his eyes, but it would be more convincing if he weren’t also squeezing you tight with one hand and playing grab-ass with the other.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he murmurs against your forehead. “Why has it been so long, again?”
“You’ve been busy negotiating your contract,” you remind him. “Getting ready for today. It was a big day for you.”
“Woulda been better if you were there.” You two disentangle as Cal scoots by to go talk with the pilot on the tarmac. The man is 6’6” and over 300 pounds, so there’s absolutely no way he’s getting around the two of you in the narrow aisle.
“It’s best that I wasn’t.” You pull Kai down into one of the roomy seats. “I would have just brought down the mood and drawn negative attention. Nobody wants that. Today is about you.”
Kai frowns. “Iwanted you there,” he says. “Shouldn’t that count for something, if it’s my day?”
You don’t have an answer for that. #SterlingGIsOver is trending on Twitter for the fifth day in a row. For the first week since its release, your newest album has seen a dip in sales. “Do you like the flowers?” you press, instead of thinking about either of those facts.
“They’re great.” He leans over and nuzzles your hair. “Thank you. I love you.”
You two stay close as Cal re-boards the plane and the lone flight attendant stops by to introduce himself. Kai’s arm around your shoulder, you’re engulfed in his body heat and good smell as the jet takes off and ascends. It feels more like coming home than you are willing to admit. Maybe you drowse a little bit. It’s either the pilot’s announcement that you’ve hit cruising altitude or the rumble of Kai’s soft voice that makes you stir.
“Yo, Cal. I’m taking him to lie down in the back. We’ll see you when we land, okay?”
It’s plenty comfortable where you are, but you don’t object to Kai gently shaking your arm and directing you towards the bedroom at the rear of the plane, his big hand steady against your lower back. You notice when he clicks the lock on the pocket door.
“I wasn’t actually planning on sleeping,” you tell him. “I’ll be up all night if I take a nap now.”
Kai grins. “I wasn’t actually planning on you sleeping, either,” he says. “And, if I have it my way, you’re gonna be up all night anyway.”
“There’s less than two hours until we land in Nashville,” you warn him, but you can feel the grin tugging at your mouth as he advances towards you.
“Not sure about you, but I won’t need that long.”
He damn-near sweeps you off your feet in the process of hauling you up towards his lips. You aren’t sure if it’s the movement of the jet or his proximity causing the weightlessness in your body, the all-too-welcome vertigo. Kai is radiating heat. He’s summer personified, warmth rising off his bare arms and broad chest as he crushes you against his body, kissing you hungrily.
“Fuck,” you sigh against his lips.
“No kidding,” he agrees, his breath hot all over your face. He’s nipping your cheek, your ear, and your neck. “Three weeks without you has been insane. Don’t wanna do this again, Ster.”
You hum, either in agreement or pleasure—you don’t even know. Kai has one palm cupping your waist, the other is holding your face. For your part, you can’t keep your hands to yourself.They’ve got minds of their own, roaming whatever parts of his body you can touch. His clavicles, his biceps, his pectorals under the thin cotton of his tank. They’re slipping under his shirt to rub over the hard planes of his abs, and feel the gratifying way he sucks in air when you touch his bare skin. He’s hard against your lower belly, the height difference between you making your own erection rut into the seam where his thigh meets his hip.
“What’s your plan here?” you murmur. “I don’t know if we have time…”
When he chuckles, it vibrates down the column of your own throat.
“I got it,” he insists.
It’s a dance, and he’s leading, backing you up into the bed built into one side of the wall. When your legs make contact with the mattress, he urges you down by the shoulders, making you sit on the edge. The sight of him lowering to his knees for you claws up your spine, hot and sharp, arousal making everything a little blurry around the edges.
“I want…” you start, but he ducks in and steals the words from your mouth.
“Myday,” he repeats, his fingers undoing the button on your jeans. “Been dreaming about this at night. Wet sheets in the morning like a goddamn teenager.”
