Page 48 of The Twelve Dates of Christmas

When we arrive, there’s a long line of riders waiting, but we skip it by taking a different path up to the platform. Jake leans in and quietly says something to the attendant, who then smiles and says, “Right, sir.”

The pods are clear capsules, with at least ten people boarding each at once. I’m not sure if it’s a trick of the light, but when our turn comes to step up to the platform, the pod coming towards us looks different. When it lowers to let us board, nobody else gets out. When I finally see inside, I forget to breathe.

This one is special.

Instead of the plain bench and minimalist lighting I noticed in the other pods, this one glows warm with frosted lanterns that mimic flickering flames. Young potted trees fill the space with the sharp, earthy fragrance of evergreens. Strands of micro lights weave between the branches, nearly invisible. The center bench is covered by oversized cushions in cream knits and cocoa-colored fleece. Plush woolen rugs cover the floor, and a few throws in warm grays and sandy browns sit rolled in a basket.

A moment ago, I was in London. Now, I’m inside a snowy, remote Scandinavian cabin.

Jake takes my coat and shrugs out of his own, draping them over the cushioned bench.

At the front of the pod, there’s a cushy chair made for two. It’s covered in ivory velvet, and there’s an oversized blanket of sumptuous faux fur across the top. Jake takes my hand to lead me to it once we’re securely locked in to begin our slow ascent. He has something in his other hand that I can’t quite see. Whatever it is, he tucks it under his thigh when he gets comfortable in the chair.

“I don’t understand,” I say. “This morning, your text said to expect to get wet—”

“Trust me.” He leans forward, does a half-hearted tug on the hem of my dress, and sits back again.

“Will we be able to see as well if we’re sitting?”

“We have thirty minutes in here. I promise you’ll have time to see everything you want.” Jake pats the small space next to him on the seat. “Come here.”

I gather the skirt of my dress and ease down next to him. The seat feels like a memory-foam cloud. The moment my butt makes contact with the seat, Jake hooks his arm under my knees and pulls me into his lap.

“What are you—”

“Save all your questions for the end, love.” He reaches behind me to pull the blanket over us. “I’m going to get you high.”

“Jake, please tell me you didn’t bring drugs onto this very busy tourist attraction.”

Softly, he laughs. Then his eyes darken. “There’s another kind of high I can give you.”

He glides his hands along the sides of my neck, his fingers dipping into the wisps of hair at my nape. He bumps the tip of his nose feather-light along my temple, then along my cheekbone. With his teeth, he traces the lobe of my ear. He spreads his knees a bit so I nestle even lower into his lap. Beneath the blanket, I feel his hand settle high on my thigh. He’s got something hard in his palm. A moment later, it begins to vibrate.

“How high do you think I can take you before you fall?” he murmurs.

“Oh my god. Are you serious?” The words come out in an airy rush.

He kisses his way to my mouth. “Very.”

“There are cameras in here,” I whisper.

“They’re behind us. All they see is a man and a woman enjoying the lights of London from their cozy little nest in the sky.”

“But they can hear—”

“Then you’d better be very, very quiet.” He says the words into my mouth, and I feel each one as much as I hear them. He uses his tongue and teeth to nip my bottom lip between his. He’s fully erect under the zipper of his pants. With the weight of my ass against him, I wonder if it hurts. I wonder if he likes it.

“What if we get caught?”

Jake leans back to meet my eyes, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “Is it a no, Evie?”

A full-body tremor goes through me. “It’s not.”

“Then open your legs for me.”

I spread my knees.

“Now,” Jake says, “sit on my hand,” and I do.