Page 15 of Like You Know
But we weren’t on a tropical island resort yet. We were in a very expensive tin can speeding through the air, and when I stepped out of the bathroom, Jet was right there in front of me.
“You’ve been in there for a while. You all right?” he asked in a low voice. He kept his posture casual, but he was so close in the tight space next to the bathroom door I could smell him. A fresh smell, unfussy and masculine—just soap and aftershave that hinted at bergamot but crisp. I could feel the heat of his chest, inches from mine.
The urge to scowl and tell him to fuck off was strong, but I gave him a tight smile instead.
“Fine.” I hoped the one-word response came off as dismissive as I’d intended. I moved to squeeze past. And because the universe hated me, we hit some turbulence at that exact moment.
The plane lurched to one side, making me stumble back against the wall. Jet stumbled too but managed to avoid crushing me by throwing a hand out against the wall next to my head. His other hand went to my arm, gripping firmly.
“Shit. You all right?” he asked, eyes slightly wide.
“Would you stop asking me that?” I shook his hand off. The plane lurched again, this time in the other direction. Jet’s back hit the opposite wall, and I tumbled right against his chest. His hands went to my waist, and I was thankful for the contact this time. With his feet set wide, he stayed steady through the turbulence and kept me on my feet too.
As the shaking eased up, he licked his lips and looked down at me. I bit down on my tongue to keep it in my mouth, stop it from mirroring his.
“Are you—”
“Nope!” I clapped a hand over his mouth. “Do not ask me if I’m all right again.”
The seat belt sign came on with a ding, and the captain made a quick announcement that we were moving through an uneven patch but it was nothing serious.
Jet smiled under my hand, and his dark eyes sparkled with mischief. For a second I thought it was better that I couldn’t see his lips. But it was so much worse. I couldfeelthem. They were soft and warm under my palm, and I could feel them move as he smiled. I could feel them as they parted slightly and the tip of his tongue darted out to lick my palm.
The simple yet unexpected sensation shot up my arm and made the back of my head feel tingly.
I removed my hand and pushed myself upright. His hands stayed on my waist.
“Gross,” I whispered and mentally slapped myself. Why was I whispering as if we were sharing a moment? This was like a meet-cute from one of my romance novels.
“We’d better get buckled in,” Jet said, but his hands stayed on my waist, and neither of us moved.
The plane jostled under our feet again, literally shaking us out of our cliché staring moment. We stumbled to the nearest empty seats, which just so happened to be next to each other.
What the hell was wrong with me? If this was how I was acting before the plane even landed, how was I going to avoid him for the whole trip? At least the bathroom was at the back of the plane and no one had seen my moment of temporary insanity.
Harlow lifted herself as high as the seat belt would allow and looked over the back of the seat. When she spotted me, she mouthedOK?I gave her a reassuring nod and smiled back. She turned to face the front again just as the plane dipped, making everyone shout in surprise or laugh nervously.
I tightened my seat belt a little and wished I hadn’t left my phone in the other seat. I’d been through worse turbulence—what bothered me more was that I didn’t have anything to distract me from the guy sitting beside me. I did my best to ignore him, but it was next to impossible. He was inches away, his elbow brushing mine with every tremor, his hand gripping the armrest between us.
He had nice hands—strong and thick and ... his knuckles were white, and his nails dug into the leather of the armrest.
Was carefree, cocky, cool-as-a-cuke Jet scared of a little turbulence?
A wicked smile pulled at my lips. I was going to have fun teasing him. But when I looked up at his face, my stupid conscience kicked in. His eyes were closed, his head back against the seat, his whole body so tense it looked as if he were in an electric chair rather than a soft seat in a private jet.
Instead of having my teasing fun, I placed my hand gently over his. His eyes flew open, and he gave me a deer-in-headlights look.
“You’re going to punch a hole in the leather if you don’t ease up.” I squeezed his hand a little. It flexed under mine, then relaxed, but still held on to the armrest.
“Thanks. I definitely can’t afford to pay Nicola to have it repaired.” His attempt at a smile looked more like a grimace.
“She wouldn’t care.” I waved it off. “Are you seriously this scared of flying?”
“Not flying, no. It’s the turbulence. I haven’t taken many flights, and this is the first time I’ve experienced turbulence. It’s ... unnerving. Like, it just really makes you aware of the fact that you’re hurtling through the sky in a metal tube.”
“You seemed fine before, when it first started.” I clasped his hand a little tighter, wordlessly reminding him to ease up on the leather once more. Every time we lurched, his grip would tighten up again.
“Yeah, well, I was distracted,” he said as he finally let go of the armrest completely—only to turn his hand and grip mine instead.