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And then he finally arrives, making me childishly giddy.
He hands me his passport with that same mild, warm smile and his hands are masculine but beautiful enough to be painted by an artist. My fingers accidentally brush his as I take it, and I feel a spark of electricity at the contact. The name inside reads "Asher Jenkins.”He’s thirty years old, his birthplace New York.
"Welcome aboard, Mr. Jenkins," I say, my voice professional despite the flutter in my chest.
The man gives a nod in thanks, his eyes flickering with open interest. He holds my gaze for a moment longer than necessary, then moves past me into the cabin.
I watch him go sit in first class, a strange mix of pungent emotions settling in my stomach. He’s kind enough to help the other passengers with their luggage and my heart warms. It feels good to see decent people doing good deeds and I just knew when I saw him that he’s a sweetheart. There’s something about him that spoke to me the moment I looked into his eyes, as if something was deciphered inside of me. Something I didn’t even know had to be deciphered.
But I can’t think about that now. I have a job to do, and I force myself to focus.
I turn my head around again, only to see Carrie peering at me. My throat snares. ”What?” I ask, raising a brow.
”Oh shut up, don’t act innocent,” she chuckles. ”You totally want to bone Hollywood.”
”Do not,” I protest lamely but it only makes her laugh even more.
”Yes you do. And Hollywood definitely wants to bone you.”
”No, he doesn’t!” I hiss, clenching my fist, worried that someone will hear but I know I’m protesting a little too fiercely.
”He was undressing you with his eyes.” Carrie nods at the man. ”I bet you’re probably naked, on your knees with something big in your mouth by now.”
”Will you stop,” I groan, but feel a flutter in my lower belly. ”You’re embarrassing me.”
Chuckling, Carrie shrugs. ”Look, all I’m saying is that I’ll keep my lips sealed in case you two want to have a quickie in the toilets.”
I swat at Carrie, shaking my head and close the door of the airplane. When it’s time to perform the safety demonstrations, I go to stand in the middle of the aisle and go through the security routines, explaining the emergency exits etc. Most passengers can’t be bothered to listen, some of them already snoring with their sleep masks on. Only one is paying attention.
Mr. Jenkins.
He has the window seat but his face is lifted as if he’s hanging onto every words. I can feel his eyes on me, and they feel like a constant pressure that I can’t ignore. He doesn’t blink when he looks at me and I’m only vaguely aware of the words coming out of my mouth.
I could be saying anything right now…and if he keeps watching me like that then I’ll be surprised if my dignity is still intact at the end of this flight. He screams power. The kind of power that can be used to make people do whatever he wants. I better be careful around him.
Once the plane is in the air, it’s time to serve the passengers. I make my way down the aisle, offering drinks and snacks. When I reach Asher’s seat, he looks up at me, his eyes meeting mine with a force that makes my breath catch.
”Coffee, tea?” I breathe, sounding like a deflating balloon.
”Tea,” he says, his voice soothing, reassuring. People trust a voice like that in times of crisis. I wouldn’t be surprised if people are willing to follow him in the dark, trusting he won’t lead them off a cliff.
”Of course,” I smile. ”Sugar, milk?”
”Both,” he replies, and it’s pretty refreshing that he’s not one of those I only eat rice and chicken breasts kind of guys, even though he certainly has the look. He takes the paper cup from me, our fingers brushing and I bite down on my lip to not let out a pant.
I think he did that on purpose. And then he gives me a sly smile, that confirms my suspicions. Flustered, I stumble back. At twenty-one I’m a grown woman, not a ditzy teen. But he makes me feel like a ditzy teen. I look back at him, then turn red in the face when he catches my eyes, his smile widening.
He can probably tell that I’m interested and I’m being so inappropriate right now. As I move on to the next passenger, I sense his eyes on me, a heat that seems to follow my every step. I feel like I’m burning up, spice running through my veins and I’ve never had the problem with the lack of fresh oxygen in the planes but suddenly I do.
2.
Asher
Settled in my window seat, I do my best not to grin too wide. Well, well…look at me. I’m close to heaven in more ways than one.
A smile curves my lips as my eyes follow the flight attendant. She really is a sight. Her sexy, little uniform clings to her pert tits, highlighting the tiny waist and generous curve of her hips. Her black cherry hair is pulled back neatly, emphasizing striking features—high cheekbones, tan skin, and dark eyes that glitter.
She’s good enough to unwrap, and slowly let melt on the tongue like a lemon bonbon. I tug on my belt to make myself more comfortable and I know my eyes are hooded when I watch her. I’m a workaholic, I love staying busy but around her I just want to breathe.
