I arch one brow as I slide my hand into his. “Are we going to be friends, Fin?”
His fingers curl around the outside of my hand, fusing our palms together as he tugs me just a fraction closer. The temperature of his skin against mine causes the blood to ignite in my veins like a match being thrown on gasoline. My eyes pop wide when he drawls out his response. “Oh, I hope so, Chloe.”
Before I can respond, his phone rings, a frown marring his perfectly sculpted lips when he checks the caller ID. He lifts his index finger. “I’m sorry, I need to take this. Please, excuse me for one minute.” The phone is at his ear a second later. “What’s up?”
I blink, perhaps to make sure the vision in front of me is real, or perhaps to ensure I’m actually awake and not in some fantasy. Being offered an interview for my dream job in New York was the absolute best thing to happen in months, but being stuck next to this man for an entire flight is a very close second. Trying not to make it too obvious that I’m eavesdropping on every word of his conversation, I attempt to look busy scrolling through the emails on my phone, not reading a single word as I listen. He is in total command of whomever he’s speaking to, the authoritative tone of his voice demanding compliance.
“Absolutely not.” His empty tumbler comes to rest next to my champagne flute before his fingers start drumming against the arm rest. “I don’t give a fuck what they want. The decision has already been made,” he growls, low and gruff. “Is that so?” There is a slight pause before he speaks again, determination loud and clear. “I’d love to have them even try. It would make my Goddamn day.” Another pause, which lasts for less than three seconds, his patience at an obvious end. “Dean, I’m done with this discussion. They can take the deal or find someone else. I really don’t give a shit, and the plane’s getting ready to take-off. I’ll see you in the office tomorrow.”
His thumb hits the end button, and in one swift swipe, he powers his phone down, his head turning toward mine. “I think that’s enough business for today.”
“Bad news?” I inquire, my curiosity getting the better of me as I ponder what he might do for a living. The conversation indicating something involving power and control, and that made my insides swoon.
“Somebody just wants something they can’t have.” He drops the phone into the wall pocket in front of him then focuses his attention back to me. His eyes shift to our empty glasses. “Do you need another drink?”
“Sure.” I shrug, impressed when the attendant is at his side with a flick of the wrist. When she steps away with our empties, I attempt to continue our conversation. “You’re from New York then, or just travelling there as well for work?”
He stares at me, his eyes slanting in his obvious analysis of me, the intensity of the moment causing me to squirm further back in my seat. He clears his throat before responding, his reluctance to speak about work evident. “I keep an apartment in the city, but let’s not talk shop.” He waves a hand in the air, effectively dismissing the topic. “I’d rather discuss anything but.” He flashes me an easy smile, one that I’m guessing has dropped many pairs of panties. And, if I’m honest, a pile I’d drop mine in with little hesitation.
“All right.” I cross my legs, noticing when his eyes drift to trail slowly up the bare length of my calves and thighs, over the frilled edges of my faded jean shorts, up the length of my white V-neck t-shirt, until finally locking onto my gaze again. Goosebumps break out across my flesh, though it’s not from any chill in the air.
“Your drink, miss.” The attendant bends between us, severing the moment as she delivers our cocktails. “And yours, sir.” She leans in further, arching her shoulder into my demi-god’s personal space, the move an obvious attempt to show him more of her cleavage. “You just let me know if I can get you anything else.”
Oh. My. God. Are you kidding me? One side of my lip twitches up in disbelief, morphing into a shocked smile when I hear his response. “Just a little space, please.” I have to stifle a giggle when she jerks into an upright position, a stiff nod her only reply as she moves away.
Fin trains his gaze on me, his brow cocked. “What’s so funny?”
I roll my eyes, unable to mask my disdain. “That was such a cliché moment.” His return stare vacant as I elaborate. “You know,” I wrinkle my nose, “the sexy stewardess trying to hit on the hot, rich guy in first class.” I laugh in an attempt to hide my nerves, but knowing my inflamed cheeks are giving me away, I keep babbling like an idiot. “But I’m sure that happens to you so much that you don’t even realize it.”
His index finger strokes back and forth across his lips, his eyes roaming over my face, the low tone of his response delivering a tingle up my spine. “You’re blushing again.”
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome aboard Patriotic Airways flight 3583 to New York City. In preparation for departure—” Saved by the bell? Okay, announcement in this case, but the perfect opportunity to turn my reddened cheeks away from Fin to pull my safety information card out of the wall pocket in front of me and pretend I’m as engrossed as a first-time flier. It doesn’t work.
“You think I’m hot?” His breath is warm, smelling sweet from the tomato juice in his drink as it wafts over me. He’s leaning on the table between us, his head just inches from mine.
I twist my head until our eyes latch. “That was your take-away from that?” I scoff, giving him a playful nudge with my elbow. “You don’t need my justification to know you’re a good-looking man.”
“And don’t forget rich.” One brow arches as he counters, sarcasm obvious as he shifts back. “Because you can tell that just by looking at me, right?”
“Not always.” I glance down between us. “But when you have a twenty-thousand-dollar Omega strapped on your wrist, it’s a pretty good indicator.”
He chuckles, nodding in defeat, but continues to argue with me. “And yet, generally, only someone else with money would know the value of a watch like this.” His lips purse as his eyes scan my form once again in scrutiny. “But you’re definitely not typical. Not in your cut-off denim shorts, gap t-shirt, and chucks.”
“Are you asking me if I’m rich, Fin?” I flash a smug smile, enjoying this little guessing game we’re playing.
“Now what kind of gentleman would I be if I did that?” He finishes the rest of his drink in two long gulps, handing his glass and then mine to the attendant collecting them for take-off, then swings his attention back to me. “Besides, it doesn’t matter one way or the other to me.” He finds the straps to his seatbelt and clicks it into place around his lean waist, his gaze sweeping up to mine when he’s done. “Friends don’t care about those kinds of things.”
“Oh yes, that’s right. I forgot.” I grin back at him. “We’re friends now.”
“Yes, friends.” One side of his mouth lifts, a dimple amplifying the simple grin into something so much sexier. Or maybe it’s the way his gaze seems to sear into mine, stirring something inside of me that I have left untended for far too long. Whatever it is, there is no doubt that it wants to be much more than friends with the demi-god.
2
Turbulence
The plane engines roar loudly as we barrel down the runway, my fingernails sinking into the material of the armrest as I clutch on for dear life. Closing my eyes, I lean my head back and say a silent prayer as I feel us leave the ground. The heat of his hand splaying over mine registers before his words do.
“Not a good flier?” His fingers squeeze in comfort as I nod, my eyes still shut. “Want me to keep talking, or should I just shut up?”