Page 35 of Simmer Down
He looks at me, and his smile reads tender, sincere. “I quite liked you sleeping on me, Nikki.”
Saying nothing, I let his words float in the air. Now that comment from Callum is something else entirely. Is that a last-hurrah type of comment since our truce is set to expire the moment we touch land? Or is it an invitation to see if our current something else can turn into something more?
A full minute of turbulence has us bouncing up and down. As we begin our descent, I contemplate staying silent, holding back.Only ten more minutes of our time-out. When the seat belt sign dings, everyone will file off the plane and we’ll be back to our hostile status quo.
He peers over at me, pointed look on his face. “How was it for you?”
“I liked a lot of things about this flight actually,” I say. It doesn’t come off as desperate as I thought it would while mulling over the words in my head. In my growly early-morning rasp, I almost sound smooth.
“So maybe we could—”
The wheels hitting the ground cut Callum off. The two of us bump around in our seats until the plane comes to an abrupt stop.
I wonder if he’ll finish his sentence while we taxi. I bite my lip to keep from saying anything. But minutes pass and he says nothing.
My heart falls to my stomach. He’s lost his nerve. Or maybe I misheard what he said in the first place, and he wasn’t going to say anything at all.
The seat belt sign dings. Almost everyone around us stands up and cracks open the overhead bins.
I stand up to that awkward hunched-over position I assume at the end of long-haul flights so I can stretch my arms and legs without hitting my head on the ceiling.
Be cool, my inner monologue commands.Aloof. Carefree. It was just a time-out, a way to avoid killing each other during this flight. Don’t push your luck. It means less than nothing.
I flash what I hope is an easy, relaxed smile while typing the passcode into my phone and fumbling with a random app. “I think this marks the end of our time-out. It was fun.”
Fun? Birthday parties are fun. Pub trivia is fun. Falling asleep on Callum’s muscled shoulder during a transatlantic flight? That’s a new form of bliss I didn’t know existed until last night.
Callum’s frown returns. “Is that all you want, Nikki? One time-out and nothing else?”
His forward question ties my tongue in a knot. What I really want is to fall asleep spooned against him, this time on a king-size bed, without our pesky clothes in the way. But I can’t say that out loud. He’ll think I’m a sex-crazed deviant, and that would be bad.
Or maybe...
I notice a flash behind those killer eyes, like he can read the X-rated thoughts playing in my head. Interesting. I may not be alone in my naughty wishes.
He leans down to me until our faces are nearly touching. “Don’t tell me that after our conversation, after falling asleep on each other, a time-out is all you want.” The muscles in his sharp jaw twitch. “Because I certainly want more.”
“Oh.” The hot air in my lungs escapes as a slow hiss.
“Here.”
He grabs my hand, which still has my phone clutched in it. The firm yet gentle way his palm cradles the back of my hand makes it impossible to breathe. He somehow knows how to touch, how to hold, how to bring my heart to a complete standstill with five seconds of contact.
He types his name and number into my phone, then dials himself. Then he releases me, saves my number to his phone, and meets my gaze once more. There’s renewed intensity in his eyes. It’s eagerness, confidence, and some mystery emotion I haven’t quite worked out yet. I’ve never seen it in all the times that we’ve looked at each other.
“I’m here until Tuesday, and I’d very much like to see you outside of this plane,” he says. “Call me if you’re interested.”
He grabs his bag from the overhead compartment, then smooths the front of his shirt with his free hand.
I shove my hands in my pockets to keep from tearing at the fabric and exposing that perfect chest, that flawless highway of light skin, hard lines, and even harder muscle.
I lick my bottom lip, then shake my head. I’m surrounded by strangers, families, children. My feral behavior is beyond ridiculous. I’m in public and need to keep the eye-fucking down to an absolute minimum.
Must regain control. I inhale slowly, steadily. “You think that’s a good idea? Us meeting up?”
As much as my body wants it, it can’t be a good thing. Our respective livelihoods depend on us ruining each other. Getting involved with each other outside of work, no matter how hot, would blur the lines for sure.
Quarters are so close in this cramped row of seats that when he leans toward me, it’s practically a hug. I can feel the heat from his body skimming across my skin. We’re barely two inches apart and this is how he feels? How hot would he feel if we were naked, skin-to-skin, under bedsheets, his body on top of mine?
