Chapter 5

• I smile softly as the air swirls between us.
• “And then you spoke . . . and ruined everything.”
• What?
• I burst out laughing. “I ruined everything? How did I ruin everything?”
• “You’re bossy, with a sarcastic snark.”
• “What’s the problem with that?” I stammer in outrage.
• “Well, I’m bossy and sarcastic.” He shrugs.
• “And?”
• “And I don’t want to date myself. I like sweet, demure girls, the ones who do what I say.”
• “Ugh.” I roll my eyes. “The ones who clean the house and have sex on Saturdays.”
• “Precisely.”
• I laugh and hold my glass up to clink with his. “You’re not bad for a boring old guy with weird shoes.”
• He laughs. “And you’re not bad for a young, hot smart-ass.”
• “Do you want to watch Magic Mike XXL with me?” I ask.
• “I suppose, although I should let you know . . . I am an ex-stripper myself, so this is nothing new for me.”
• “Really?” I try to hide my smile. “You’re good on a pole?”
• His eyes hold mine. “My pole work is the best in the country.”
• The air crackles between us, and I have to concentrate on stopping my inebriated mouth from saying something slutty.
• He pushes the screen and taps through to Magic Mike XXL . . . and I smile broadly. This man is so unexpected.
• First class is definitely the way to fly.
• Six hours later
• “Okay, next question. The weirdest place you’ve ever had sex?” he whispers.
• I smirk. “You can’t ask me that.”
• “Yes, I can. I just did.”
• “It’s rude.”
• “Says who?” He looks around. “It’s just a question, and nobody is listening.”
• Jim and I have talked and whispered and laughed our way through the entire flight. “Hmm.” I think out loud. “That’s a tough one.”
• “Why?”
• “I’m on a bit of a drought at the moment. I can hardly remember any sex.”
• “How long?” He frowns.
• “Oh.” I look to the ceiling as I think. “I haven’t had sex in like . . . eighteen months.”
• His face falls in horror. “What?”
• “It’s lame, isn’t it?” I wince.
• “Very. You need to up your game. They’re very bad statistics, indeed.”
• “I know.” I giggle. Boy . . . we’re so tipsy. “Why am I telling you all this stuff?” I whisper. “You’re just some random guy I met on a plane.”
• “Who happens to be very interested in the subject.”
• “Why is that?”
• He leans in and whispers to me so that the flight attendants can’t hear us. “I don’t understand how someone as hot as you doesn’t get fucked three times a day.”
• I stare at him as I feel a tingle all the way to my toes. Stop it . This guy is too old for me and so not my type.
• His eyes drop to my lips, and the air between us zaps with electricity.
• “How long are you in New York?” he asks.
• I watch his tongue dart out and lick his bottom lip in slow motion. I can almost feel it between my . . . “Just the afternoon. I have my interview at six tonight, and then I catch the last flight out,” I whisper.
• “Can you change your flight?”
• Why? “No.”
• He smirks as he watches me, and it’s obvious he’s imagining something.
• “What?” I smile.
• “I wish we were on a private jet.”
• “Why is that?”
• His eyes drop to my lips once more. “Because I’d break that drought of yours and initiate you into the Miles-High Club.”
• I get a visual of climbing on top of him, right here, right now. “It’s Mile-High Club . . . not Miles ,” I whisper.
• “No . . . it’s Miles.” He smirks as his eyes darken. “Trust me—it’s Miles.”
• Something inside me snaps, and suddenly I want to say something crazy and out of the ordinary. I lean forward and whisper in his ear, “You know, I’ve never fucked a stranger before.”
• He inhales sharply as his eyes hold mine. “Do you want to fuck a stranger?” he murmurs as arousal thrums between us.
• I stare at him. This is so out of character for me.
• This man makes me . . .
• “Don’t be shy,” he whispers. “Tell me, if we were alone right now . . .” He pauses as he chooses his words. “What would you give me, Emily?”
• My eyes search his, and maybe it’s the alcohol or the lack of sex or the fact that I know I’ll never see him again . . . or perhaps I’m just a total ho. “Me,” I breathe. “I would give you me.”
• Our eyes lock, and as if forgetting where we are, he leans forward and cups my face in his hand. His eyes are so blue, and a wave of arousal sweeps through me at his touch.
• I want this man.
• I want all of this man . . . every last drop.
• “Hot towel?” Jessica the flight attendant asks.
• We jump back from each other, embarrassed. What must they think of us? They’ve been watching us flirt shamelessly for the entire trip.
• “Thank you,” I stammer as I take the towel from her.
• “There’s a snowstorm in New York, and we’re going to circle for a while to see if we can land,” she says.
• “What happens if we can’t?” Jim asks.
• “We will fly on to Boston and have an emergency layover for the night. You will be accommodated in a hotel, of course. We’ll know in the next ten minutes. I’ll keep you updated.”
• “Thank you.”