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I cleared my throat, breaking the weird stare down. “To answer your earlier question, I don’t hate fantasy movies. They’re more my brother Quin’s thing, so I’ve seen them before.”
“So why do you want to watch them again?”
“Because spending the next ten hours watching Orlando Bloom at peak elfin hotness seems like a much better way to pass the time than watching you try not to spiral into a massive panic attack.”
“You are such a fucking dick.”
“Yep.” But I hit the button to startThe Fellowship of the Ringanyway, smiling to myself as Jack relaxed little by little despite continued turbulence.
Admittedly, I was only half paying attention to the movie. Mostly, I was watching Jack from the corner of my eye. Even though he’d said fantasy flicks weren’t his thing, he hadn’t taken his eyes off the screen since Cate Blanchett started narrating the history of the rings.
A large portion of my energy was being spent trying to keep myself from leaning even closer to Jack and inhaling his scent. When the credits rolled, I was wired, but Jack seemed more relaxed than I’d seen him since we’d boarded Reuben’s private plane in Seattle.
“Should we start the second one?” Jack held out his hand for the remote.
“Sure, but I thought these movies weren’t your thing?”
“Shut up.” When I didn’t pass him the controller, he reached into my seat where the remote had fallen, the back of his hand skimming over my thigh, and once again, I had to literally bite my tongue to stop my dick from reacting to his touch. Jack’s fingers stilled against my leg, and his eyes met mine. Barely banked fire burned there, but I’d promised myself the second Nero had thrown us together that I wouldn’t fall into bed with Jack again. Being this close to him for this long had the small tank of self-control I had flashing anEfor empty, and telling myself I wasn’t going to fuck Jack had never worked before.
Why did I think it would now?
Because this time, I was treating it like part of my penance for getting Nero’s mate, Felix, kidnapped. Even though we’d rescued Felix and Nero and his mate had both forgiven me, I still felt like I had to make up for the mistake somehow. Working with Jack while wading through the sexual chemistry that burned between us without doing anything about it felt like a good way to atone. Especially since the only time we ever really saw eye to eye was in the bedroom. Everywhere else, I thought Jack’s need to strategize and control everything was annoying, and he hated my inclination to go off half-cocked with only the barest hint of a plan in mind. In the bedroom, though, his control was an epic turn-on, and he always came up with the best plans that usually ended with both of us covered in cum and completely wrung out.
He looked away first, and I took that for the small victory it was while he hit the Play button to startThe Two Towers.
I nodded off somewhere near the middle and woke up to find the credits rolling onThe Return of the King. To my horror,I was also leaning on Jack’s shoulder. Jolting upright, I put as much distance between us as I could.
“Good morning, sweetheart. Sleep well? Pretty sure you drooled on me. Gross, by the way.” He mimed wiping something nasty off his shoulder and flicking it away. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes as I undid my seat belt and stood, intent on getting as far from Jack as I could. This time, I didn’t wait for him to move his long legs out of the way. I just pushed past them, tripping into the aisle.
Whatever weirdness had compelled me to show him kindness hours before was long gone, and I needed as much space as I could get.
“Where are you going? You know I don’t bite. Unless you want me to.” Jack’s voice followed me to the last row of plush leather seats.
I didn’t have a good answer, and running away on a small private plane was futile anyway, so I said nothing.
“Oh, the silent treatment. Very mature, Calig?—”
“If you utter another syllable, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
Jack had stood and was staring at me over the back of his chair. “I like my chances.”
“Whatever.” As far as comebacks went, it was ridiculous, but at least I’d kept him from saying my full name.
Anytime it was uttered in its entirety, it was usually followed up by some dumbass quip about whether I was crazy enough to appoint my horse to the Senate or some equally asinine comparison of my own impulsivity to that of my namesake.
Yet for some stupid reason—see aforementioned impulsivity—I had given Jack my full name the night we’d met.
And like Beetlejuice, whenever Jack said my name, my full name, it had the power to make me come—albeit in a much different way—and like he knew what hearing those foursyllables roll off his tongue did to me, he had taken every opportunity he could to taunt me with it.
We continued to square off across the rows of seats that separated us, neither of us willing to back down, until the pilot announced we were beginning our final descent onto the private airstrip outside Reuben’s house at the edge of Queensland.
This time when I saw Jack grip the armrest, his knuckles going white as the plane dipped lower, I didn’t do anything to help, even though watching him tense made me feel like I’d been punched in the gut, like his fear of flying was in some small part my own.
It was official—having a fated mate sucked.
CHAPTER
TWO
