I waited for the anger. The yelling that would start any second.
Instead, his full mouth curved into a slow, deep smile.
“Hello.”
CHAPTER TWO
SEBASTIAN
I woke from my restless sleep, senses on alert. Dragging in a deep breath, I felt a strange sensation hit my chest at the sweet scent that filled my head. It was light and floral—like walking through a mass of lilac trees on a warm summer day, their scent rising up and enveloping me in their soft fragrance. I knew, even before I opened my eyes, someone was close to me.
I opened my lids slowly, staring transfixed at the girl who hovered over me, like a protective angel. My hand was wrapped around hers tightly. I blinked, unsure if I was dreaming or not—she looked so unreal in the dim light I wasn’t certain if I was truly awake. Long russet-brown hair hung over the back of the seat she was leaning against. The thick strands tickled my wrist, and the desire to move my hand and wrap it around the tresses was strong.
She was looking past me, her blue eyes thoughtful. She was biting her bottom lip—her teeth worrying the plump skin, and I wanted to save the flesh from the torture she was inflicting on it. I felt no fear seeing her bending over me, or the fact that she was touching me. Instead, I felt only a curious warmth from her closeness. Her gaze shifted, her lovely eyes meeting mine, widening as she realized I was now awake. A deep red blush stained her cheeks, her teeth now sinking even deeper into that lip.
A rush of hot, fast desire tore through me as I gazed at her. I wanted to sit up and drag her to me. Cup her face and feel the heat of her skin under my fingers. Taste that tortured bottom lip. Bury my face into her neck and breathe her in as I wound my fingers in that glorious hair.
And then I wanted to kiss her.
Like I had never kissed anyone in my life.
The idea made me smile.
Her eyes were wide and fearful, and I knew I had to make the first move.
“Hello.”
She blinked, looked at our entwined hands, and blinked again. Then she started to talk—very fast.
“You were asleep. I just wanted to see how the arm things went up, and I was checking. I wasn’t staring—I really wasn’t staring. Okay—well, I was, a little. Because you’re gorgeous. Like wow gorgeous. But I didn’t know that when I was looking for the arm thing. You’re gonna have bruises. You know that, right? In your stomach—from pressing into the metal thing. I was gonna move away, but then you looked sad and started muttering, so I thought you needed someone to hold your hand that kept moving.” She finally drew in a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”
I frowned, unsure what part of that paragraph she had just spat out I should respond to. So I started at the end. “You’re sorry? For holding my hand?” I smirked at her. “Or staring? Or calling me ‘wow gorgeous’?”
“Are you mad I’m holding your hand?”
With a start, I realized I was, indeed, still clutching her small hand within mine. “No.”
“The staring part, then—you’re mad about that?” She started gnawing on that bottom lip of hers again.
“I suppose I should be. You are invading my privacy and personal space after all.”
“But you’re not?” She sighed—a deep huff of air that lifted her hair so it brushed against my wrist once more.
“No.” I had to laugh. She was rather cute. I squeezed her hand, brushing her knuckle with my thumb. “Thank you for checking on me—even if you were trying to figure out the, ah, armrest.”
“That’s what it’s called!” She grinned in triumph. “I always forget words when I’m tired.”
Feeling strangely regretful, I released her hand. “You should get some sleep, then.”
Groaning, I unfurled my legs and rolled off the seats, swinging my arms and stomping my feet. I ran my hand over my stomach, which was surprisingly tender. Maybe she was right and I would have bruises. I had been pushed into the metal bar fairly hard. I stopped trying to uncramp my muscles when I realized she was staring. “What?”
“Holy shit. You’re tall.” She looked across the seats where I’d been napping. “How’d you even fit?”
I sat down heavily and scrubbed my hand over my face. “I was so tired I didn’t even notice.”
“Did your flight get canceled?”
“Yes, but I’ve been here all day. My friend dropped me off earlier today—or yesterday, I suppose. My flight wasn’t until later, but it was the only way to get here. After he left, I discovered I left my wallet at his place. It took me forever to get hold of him. I could still check in for my flight since I had my passport, but I had nothing else. By the time I got in touch with him, the airport was closing and the roads were too bad to get my wallet to me. He’s going to try in the morning. If he can’t make it, he’ll mail it to me.”