Page 64 of That First Flight

His smile falls and I watch as his jaw hardens. He looks almost… angry for me and I can’t help but chuckle.

I clench my fists together, bringing them to my mouth to emphasize my excitement. “They offered me the sous-chef position instead!”

His face morphs into confusion as he reads my expression. Then his eyes widen and I watch as the wheels in his head spin to the words that just came out of my mouth. I almost feel bad for putting him through this small rollercoaster of emotions.

“You’re joking!” Oliver says, still trying to read me.

“I’m not,” I squeal. “I got the job, Oliver. I got the freakin’ job!”

His arms wrap tightly around my waist as he lifts me in the air. My legs wrap around his waist and the contact of his strong arms holding me is enough to make everything inside me explode.

My body feels like a spark, and his touch just set me on fire. I can’t help but wrap my arms around him and hold on tight as he buries his head in the crook of my neck.

“You fucking did it,” he speaks into my skin and I can feel the heat of his breath only building the fire inside me.

Oliver reluctantly releases his hold on me, and both my feet are planted back on the ground. I immediately feel cold without his touch, which causes me to avert my gaze from him down to my hands nervously.

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“That was all you.”

“You brought me here.” I look back up at him, his blue eyes searing me. “You made a call to get me an interview in the first place. I owe you so much.”

“You don’t owe me a damn thing. But…” he drawls. “I’ll never turn down one of those epic meals you like to make,” he finishes, giving me a wink.

“Consider it done.”

Once the words leave my mouth, something in the air shifts. It almost feels as though a window is wide open and the cold, rainy breeze is making its way through the apartment. Or maybe it’s that Oliver is still rooted in the same spot, not moving away from me. Not making an effort to go anywhere when he very clearly needs to leave for his trip.

“So you’re leaving, huh?”

“Ireallydon’t want to,” he admits without skipping a beat.

“Why not?”

“You won’t be there.”

That does it.

Desire courses through my veins. I’ve been fighting the way this man makes me feel since the day he showed up at the bar in the mountains. I knew I felt something on the flight, but seeing him show up there just confirmed so much for me.

Every moment since then has just built up to this moment right now.

Oliver’s fingers slowly brush along the apple of my cheek, until he reaches the shell of my ear and trails the tips down to the pounding pulse in my neck.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Anything.” My voice is hoarse with emotion.

“I really want to fucking kiss you right now.” Oliver waits a few breaths for me to respond, but the only thing I can do is look up at him and smile. “I know it’s crossing a line. I know you’re technically just supposed to be my roommate and you’re trying to get settled in the city. I know I shouldn’t”—he steps closer to me and I feel the rate of each breath pick up—“but fuck, Macey. I want to.”

I can’t find a single word to answer him. I just keep my eyes locked on him while his remain locked on my mouth. I’m unsure what to do or how to navigate this moment since the last time I kissed another man, I was sixteen years old.

Oliver’s eyes darken from baby blue to a deep ocean blue as cups my cheeks and brings my face close to his. The smell of peppermint on his breath causes my pulse to skyrocket.

“Fuck it.”

His lips crash onto mine, and I feel an explosion happen the second they do. He kisses me with need, like kissing me was the air he needed to breathe. My body melts in his as his hand skates around the back of my head, tangling in my hair as he pulls me closer, closing every inch there is between us.

---