Page 14 of Accidental Mile High Daddy
I looked past the bar, the booths, the low candlelit tables set against the back wall, the gaudy velvet, the plants—and then I stilled.
Tucked into the far corner, half-obscured and shadowed by a trailing vine and a whole-ass tree someone thought would do well inside a lowlight cocktail bar, a pair of hazel eyes locked with mine.
Matt.
That same easy confidence oozed from him as he leaned back in his seat, the body I’d dragged my hands over two weeks ago now covered in a dark grey button-up and a tailored jacket, one hand clutching a glass of amber liquid I could only guess was whiskey based on his order on the flight. He hadn’t moved toward me.
He looked at me like he’d already won.
He lifted his glass slightly toward me, a hint of a smirk breaking out across his lips, and crooked two fingers in acome heremotion. It wasn’t aggressive, wasn’tdemanding.
But it was expectant.
“Sienna,” Jules said carefully. “What the fuck is happening right now?”
I shook my head as I set my water down slightly more aggressively than I needed to. “I-I just need to go to the bathroom.”
Her eyes narrowed as I pushed back up from my chair. “You don’t look like you need to pee. You look like the IRS has just audited you.”
I swallowed. “I’ll explain later. I swear.”
I didn’t catch what she said as I slipped around her seat and walked. I tried to hide that a full-blown panic attack was bubbling beneath the surface and threatening to come up for air as I crossed the bar in heels that hurt and slipped, tried to hidethat I was approaching a man that I’d had the most intense, unrepeatable sex of my life with.
Matt’s eyes didn’t leave mine for a second.
I reached his table and stopped, my throat closing in as I gripped the back of the chair opposite his. The soft murmurs and clinking of glasses and laughter from a table that was far too drunk suddenly felt deafening. But maybe that was just my heartbeat thundering in my ears.
He grinned at me.
“Hello, Sienna.”
Chapter 6
Matt
She walked to me as if her bones were made of glass, but she was too stubborn to admit it might make her shatter.
I could read her like a book, whether she wanted me to or not. She wanted to bolt. Her jaw was tight, her hand wound tight around the back of the chair, her gaze wasstrugglingto hold mine. But she came.
That alone earned my respect all over again.
The way her flowy, little, navy-blue dress hugged her body, made me clench my teeth to keep from acting out in a room full of strangers. It wasn’t anything remarkable, but onher, it was sinful. It clung to her curves and cinched in at the waist, dipping low enough to tease the freckle just beneath her collarbone. The one I’d noticed when I was inside of her for the third time on Flight 417 from ATL to NAP, the same one I’d dragged my tongue over. Her skin was a little deeper from what I could only imagine was the Amalfi sun, golden in a way that begged to be touched.
I fought the images back as if they’d pull me under a rip current if I didn’t.
“Hello, Sienna,” I said, my voice as even as I could will it to be, a little grin breaking across my lips.
“Thanks for the drinks,” she deadpanned.
“I didn’t send them.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Cut the shit.”
I tilted my head, letting the corner of my mouth twitch. “You wound me.”
“‘Thanks for flying first class’? You might as well have signed it with your dick.”
I snorted, the words catching me fully off guard, laughter creeping up my throat.Why was she so good at that? “I was being polite.”
