Page 4 of Accidental Mile High Daddy
Instead, I was sitting ten feet away from the most unexpected part of my year so far, with a chunk of plastic blocking my view of tied-up, brunette hair I wanted to sink my fingers into, lightly tanned skin that looked soft enough to feel like sin against mine, and a face that could easily drop grown men to their knees.
And herbody. God, her body.
She had to be nearly half my age. Couldn’t have been much more than mid-twenties. But it wasn’t stopping me from thinking.
I bit my knuckle as I pulled out my tablet, flicking through a handful of flight operations reports to try to take my mind off the button glaring at me from the other side of the suite beneath the partition, but I barely absorbed any of it. I knew what that button did. I knew how to use it. Passengers weren’t meant to, but I wasn’t a standard passenger.
I fought myself through the dinner service, up until the moment when the cabin lights lowered and I could hear the rustling of people getting ready for sleep. I unbuckled my seatbelt and moved to the foot of the bed, glaring at that stupid button like it owed me something. Maybe it did.
She’d either hate me for it, or we’d get what we both wanted.
Worth it.
I pressed it, just enough for the partition to lower a few inches, just enough that my entire head was visible over it.
Sienna jumped like a startled rabbit.
“Fucking—Christ,” she cursed, her brown eyes wide as she stared at me from her seat, her phone in her hand and her legs crossed.God, those legs.“I could have been naked in here. What’s wrong with you?”
I raised a brow at her. “Planning to get naked in your suite?” I asked, lowering the partition just a little more.
“No, but—” She cut herself off, shaking her head. “Don’t make scaring the living daylights out of me a habit, please.”
“Is twice a habit? Thought it was three times,” I mused, resting my forearms on the top of the partition. “You free?”
She blinked at me. “Unless there are scheduled events on this flight, then yes?”
I tilted my head toward the lounge bar on the other side of her suite’s privacy walls. “Let’s get a drink.”
“So you can hit on me again?”
I chuckled. “I haven’t hit on anyone.”
“So lying is a habit of yours, too?”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. You caught me,” I said, raising my hands palm-out. “Let me chat your ear off a bit more, and you can keep shooting me down in style.”
She made a face. “It’s three in the morning Italy-time,” she said. “Shouldn’t you be trying to sleep? They gave out those little eye-masks and everything.”
“I don’t sleep much.”
“Shocking.”
The corner of my lips twitched up. Feisty. “Just one drink, Sienna.”
She hesitated, her lips pressing together in thought, and I didn’t push. I didn’tneedto. I knew the power of silence, of offering space and waiting until someone filled it. And sure enough, she finally opened that pretty mouth again.
“Okay,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt and uncrossing her legs to stand. “But I’m not putting my shoes back on. You’re dealing with vacation-Sienna.”
I grinned. “Vacation-Sienna,” I said, pushing back off the partition, “is already my favorite.”
She rolled her eyes and opened her suite door. A second later, I was following her down the hall, her bare feet padding against the carpet.
The bar was empty. Sleek marble countertops, soft lighting with the cabin lights dimmed, a handful of bolted-down leather stools that wouldn’t fall over in turbulence. I gave the bartender a nod, and he snapped into motion like I’d ordered it.
“Do you do this often?” Sienna asked, hoisting herself up onto the barstool half with grace and half with the kind of chaos that made me glad the stools were bolted down.
“Invite women to drink with me on flights?” I asked, leaning against the barstool on her right.
