Page 6 of Devoured By You

Ah. Not a seasoned first-class traveler.

“I can recommend the filet,” I said. “That’s what I’m having, and it’s usually good. Or salmon if you don’t like red meat. I can’t offer an opinion on the vegetarian option, but if you don’t like any of those, they’ll make you something else. If they have the ingredients on board, that is.”

She opened her mouth, then shut it. A second attempt at speaking was more successful. “The salmon, please.”

“Good choice,” I said.

The steward noted down her selection and mine, and shortly afterward, he returned with our food.

“Would you like to join me?” I pointed at the guest seat opposite mine.

“Or you could join me.”

I laughed, rising to my feet. This woman, I liked. A great deal. “What the lady wants.”

The steward set up the table for two, and I sat down, shaking out my napkin. Jill lowered her head and sniffed.

“That smells amazing.”

“It’s not gourmet, but it’s passable.”

“Passable?” She screwed up her nose. “I’m guessing you’ve never traveled in the economy cabin?”

Chuckling, I shook my head. “Guilty as charged.” I cut into my steak. Rare, just how I’d requested before I’d boarded.

“I’ve never traveled first class before,” she confessed. “A treat to myself for hitting number one bestseller.”

“It’s important to celebrate our successes.”

“I’m still working on that one.”

I grinned. “Me, too.”

Lunch took a while to get through because we talked so much. Jill Rowe was not only gorgeous, intelligent, and great company, but she also had that sarcasm-laden humor that the British had mastered.

My eyes lingered on her face as she sat back in her chair and let out a contented sigh, simultaneously rubbing her stomach. She caught me studying her. The air between us crackled, a definite shift in atmosphere now that we’d eaten.

“So, what now?” she asked huskily.

I reached for her hand, drawing it to my side of the table. Turning it over, I traced the lines on her palm. “My grandmother reads palms.”

“Is that so?” Her voice dropped another octave.

“It is. I learned one or two things from her.” I drew a figure eight on her palm. Her hands were dainty, the nails painted in a delicate pink. They’d look great wrapped around my dick.

“Such as?” She cast a furtive glance at me, then returned her attention to her palm. Her tongue darted out to dampen her lips.

Flirting. So fucking good for the soul.

“Well, see this line here?” I traced a path in a downward trajectory, starting from the tip of her middle finger. “This is the fate line. Not everyone has this.”

“So I’m special?”

My lips twitched. “That you are, Tilly.”

“What else does it mean?”

“Well, it’s quite deep, so this means you’re strongly controlled by fate. You’re likely to plunge headfirst into fatalistic events.” I looked up at her. I could get lost in those eyes. “Such as meeting a handsome stranger on a plane.”

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