Page 10 of Forced Proximity
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“A man was bumped from first class to coach and a woman in the back of the plane was bumped to first. It was a computer glitch, but there’s nothing we can do about it now. Caused a huge commotion earlier. Be grateful you weren’t on to hear it. You’re in 1A.”
I blinked.
“Um, really?”
She smiled softly at me before saying, “Really. Now, have a seat. You’re the last passenger that needs to get settled.”
I did as she asked, moving to the first-class seat she’d directed me to.
I stowed my carry-on in the bin above my head, then took a seat next to a man that I barely glanced at until I’d tightened my seat belt.
Even then, I only glanced at him when the flight attendant leaned so far over me to reach him that the man’s junk was practically in my face.
I leaned as far back as I could, which wasn’t much, and prayed his dick didn’t touch my chin with how he was leaning.
“Can I get you anything else, sir?” the flight attendant asked coyly.
“You can give the woman some space.”
That voice.
I’d heard it a couple of hours ago at the table behind me.
How…
I whipped my head around to confirm who it was that I heard and found blue eyes aimed at me.
There was no emotion in them, making me realize he didn’t recognize me, but it was most definitely him.
He was still wearing the same suit, sans jacket. His tie wasn’t tied, either. It was stuffed in his pocket and his first four shirt buttons were undone, giving him a disheveled look that was edged with exhaustion.
I looked away, but not before I smiled at him in thanks before turning back around to see that the man’s dick was still right there.
Jesus.
I leaned toward the man at my side, who didn’t seem to mind, and said, “Uhhh.”
“Personal space is a real thing,” the sexy man at my side grumbled darkly. “And you should probably learn to respect it.”
“Oh, sorry,” the male flight attendant apologized. “I didn’t see you there.”
Sure, he didn’t.
He stepped away, allowing me room to breathe, and the ability to return to my own space so I wasn’t invading the man’s space beside me.
“What’s wrong?” the man at my side said.
At first I thought he was speaking to me, but when I turned to look at him, he was looking out of the window and studying the tarmac with his phone to his ear.
“I can’t do anything for a couple of hours while I fly home,” he said. “No, it’s never stopped me before, you’re right. But not this time.” He paused. “Yes, next to someone.” He chuckled. “Thanks, man.” He cleared his throat. “Why are you calling me Finnian all of a sudden, anyway?”
Finnian.
Was that the man’s name?
It fit well.
