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The woman walks out of the lit entrance and toward the aisle shrouded in darkness. She checks out the seating arrangement as if she wants to figure out how to slide into the chair beside me with as little contact as possible.
“Hi. Excuse me.” Her voice is soft with a hint of an accent. She takes a deep breath as she moves inch by inch into my personal space.
I don’t say a damn thing as I clutch onto the armrests. I’m given an up-close and personal view of her backside, barely constrained by her unregulated attire of jeans and a T-shirt.
There’s a reason uniforms are mandatory while on company property and I’m staring straight at it. The back of my neck heats, and the armrests creak under the pressure of my hands. Her perfume hits my nose. My eyes drift shut at the intoxicating smell—a mix of flowers, citrus, and something I can’t quite place.
She fumbles around my long legs with the gracefulness of a newborn giraffe.
Wanting to end this, I give her some space by sitting up. My sudden movement has her tripping over my feet. One of her hands smacks against my lap for balance, missing my cock by only a few inches. Electricity shoots up my leg right to my crotch.
Shit. Since when has someone’s touch given me that kind of a reaction?
Her wide eyes look into mine, showing off thick lashes and brown, almond-shaped eyes. She blinks a couple times, proving she possesses some form of cognitive functioning. “I’m so sorry.” Her lips gape apart as she stares down at her hand on my lap. She gasps and rips her hand away from my thigh, taking her warmth and the weird feeling with her.
Some older crew member looks over his shoulder. “Do you mind taking a seat already? I can barely hear Joyce over your usual racket.”
Usual racket?Good to know that this is a pattern.
“Right. Yes,” she sputters.
I consider her ability to slide into the chair beside me without another accident as a miracle. She drops her loud jangling backpack on the floor, causing yet another distraction. Metal rattles and pings as she bends over and unzips the bag.
I shut my eyes and breathe through my nose to calm the dull ache pulsing at my temples. Except I take in more of her perfume with each deep breath, making it impossible to forget her.
Her arm brushes up against my leg during her search. A similar spark shoots down my spine at the contact, like a rush of heat begging to gosomewhere.
Anywhere buttherefor fuck’s sake.
“Do you mind?” I grind out.
“Sorry!” She winces as she finally grabs her notebook and snaps back into a sitting position. Her Penny board slides off her lap and smashes into my two-thousand-dollar shoes.
There’s a reason those damn things were banned from the park decades ago. I kick the contraband item away from me and right into the ankles of the same man who reprimanded her earlier.
“Come on, Zahra.” The man turns his head and shoots her a withering look.
Zahra. Hername fits the wildness I’ve only had a tiny taste of.
“Sorry, Ralph,” she mutters.
“Stop being sorry and start being early for once.”
I fight the urge to smile. There’s nothing I enjoy more than people being called out on their bullshit.
She leans over and places a delicate hand on the man’s shoulder. “Can I make it up to you with fresh bread that Claire and I made last night?”
Bread? Is she seriously offering this man food after he got annoyed with her?
Ralph shrugs. “Throw in some cookies and I won’t complain to Joyce about you being late again.”
I blink at the graying grump in front of me.
“I knew you had a soft spot for me. People say you’re mean but I don’t believe a word of it.” She shoves his shoulder in a familiar way.
I see what she’s doing here. Somehow, she wrapped old Ralph around her finger with nothing but a smile and a promise of baked goods.
This woman is dangerous—like a landmine someone doesn’t see until it’s too late. Zahra grabs a package from her backpack and drops it into Ralph’s waiting hands.
