Page 44 of Mile High Ruin

She studies me. There’s enough intelligence in her face to make lying useless.

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

That makes her smile. It’s small but dangerous.

I should leave. Instead, I step inside.

She doesn’t move back. The space immediately feels smaller.

“You have been avoiding me,” I say.

“So have you.”

“That is not true.”

“You ignored me for an entire flight.”

“I was attempting to behave.”

Her mouth twitches. “That must have been exhausting.”

“It was.”

For a moment, neither of us speaks.

Then Sloane reaches past me for a towel. Her shoulder brushes my chest.

The contact is barely anything. Still, it changes the air between us.

She feels it too. I know because she stops before moving away.

My hand settles at her waist. I do it slowly enough that she can step back if she wants, but she doesn’t.

I lower my head.

She kisses me first.

That destroys whatever remained of the conversation I intended to have.

My hand slides around the back of her neck while the other tightens at her waist, pulling her closer as her fingers grip the front of my shirt. The kiss deepens immediately, no hesitation this time, none of the interrupted restraint we’ve been dragging across three flights.

She opens for me. I taste her.

She makes a quiet sound against my mouth.

Fuck.

I push her gently against the counter. She goes willingly.

My mouth moves down her jaw and along her neck while my hands travel over her waist, then higher, feeling the shape of her beneath the uniform I have imagined removing far too many times.

She exhales when my palm closes over one breast.

Her nipple hardens beneath the fabric, and I rub my thumb over it.

Her head tips back.