Endless Obsession

Asher chuckles. I shrug and place the empty glass on the tray.

Without looking away from me, Asher calls, “Another double, Seraphina.”

“Asher, I don’t…” I start, but then stop when there’s another bump. I close my eyes and try to block it out. This is freaking ridiculous. I’m an adult. I should be able to take a simple plane ride, for goodness’ sake.

I open my eyes when Asher’s warm hand picks mine up and wraps my fingers around the new glass. There’s a smirk on his face, making him look even hotter. It’s really not fair that he looks so good. His hand lingers longer than necessary, and there’s a knowing look in his eyes, like he knows what he’s doing to me. I’m sure he’s used to it, though. Women must drop at his feet daily and beg for a smidgeon of his attention. Hell, even his flight attendant has starry eyes for him.

I drop my gaze from his and face forward again as I bring the drink to my lips, sipping this one much slower than the last. I lean my head back, close my eyes, and try to bring up an image of Sterling to distract myself from the man beside me, but it’s impossible. First, I have no damn clue what he looks like, so it’s literally impossible. And second, the man beside me demands all attention to be placed on him. It’s always like that when I’m in his proximity. It’s as if everything else is forgotten as soon as I’m in the same room with him.

“Poppy,” Asher urged, sounding entirely too close.

I opt to roll my head to the side to look at him instead of lifting it. The alcohol is hitting my bloodstream, and I’m too relaxed to force my head forward. He’s closer than he was before, and another wave of his scent assaults me. It’s intoxicating. I barely catch myself from leaning over and sniffing him.

I didn’t realize I had finished the second drink until he takes the glass from my hand and passes it along with the other empty glass to Seraphina.

He smiles indulgently at me as he says, “Are you okay?”

I smile back at him and nod. “Yes.”

Crap! Did I just slur? From the mirth in his eyes, I’d say that is a big fat yes. How embarrassing is that?

My arms feel heavy against the armrest and my eyes are starting to droop. This is why I don’t like drinking heavy alcohol. It either makes me sick or extremely tired. This is supposed to be a business trip, and I’m not acting very professional right now. I try to focus my eyes on his to get a glimpse of what he’s thinking, but my vision is starting to blur. My body feels flushed, so I adjust in my seat, trying to get air in places there aren’t any.

Asher reaches up and over me. I’m not sure what he’s doing, but the closeness of his body isn’t helping the heat in mine. God, he smells sooo good. Did I already think that?

When I feel a rush of cool air hit me from above, I sigh.

“Thanks,” I manage to say without sounding like I’m drunk.

He sits back in his seat, slightly facing my way, and crosses one leg over his knee. The arm that’s closest to me rests on his raised leg.

“When we land, I’m going to have my driver take you to the hotel. I’ll be back to pick you up for dinner this evening.”

It takes my muddled mind a minute to realize what he’s talking about. When I remember the whole reason we’re on this jet, I try to sit up, then feel a wave of dizziness.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have had that last drink,” Asher mumbles, causing my cheeks to heat even more. The cool air from above is no longer helping.

I grab the front of my blouse and fan it out in front of me, trying to cool myself down. His eyes move to my chest. I look down and realize I’m giving him little peek-a-boo shows of my boobs.

“Shit,” I mutter.

This just keeps getting worse. I swear if I’m not embarrassing myself in one way, I’m doing it in another. I should have never agreed to come on this trip. Damn flight nerves and alcohol. I press my hand against my blouse to flatten it back down.

When I look back at Asher, he has his elbow resting on the armrest with his

with finger against his lips and they twitch, trying to hold back a laugh. I narrow my eyes at him, perturbed he’s finding this interesting.

“I’m taking a nap,” I grumble.

“You do that,” he says with a chuckle.

I roll my eyes and fumble with the little handle thingy that reclines the seat. I huff out a breath when the stupid thing doesn’t work. The next thing I know, Asher has unbuckled his seatbelt, and I now have his chest in my face as he leans over me. Before I can stop myself, I lean forward and sniff him like a dog sniffs another dog’s butt. I should really be locked up somewhere, or never be given whiskey again. I have no idea what’s wrong with me. It’s like I can’t control myself around him. I want to blame it on the alcohol, but a little voice in my head calls me out on it. It’s Asher. He drives me to act stupid, the alcohol is just the accelerant.

It’s not just me, though. Asher is acting strange as well. He’s never been so forward with touching me, or looking at me the way he is now. Well, not until recently anyway.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“You looked like you were having problems,” he answers, right before my seat reclines back.