Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 63862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
She wasn’t wrong.
I typically didn’t spring for first class.
I made a very nice living. But I knew I wasn’t going to want to gamble professionally forever. So I tried not to spend lavishly if it didn’t make sense to. And first-class seats were almost always unnecessary.
I hadn’t even looked at them when I’d booked my seat.
But just this once, I was happy for an upgrade, for space, for the ability to stretch out.
I got to my feet, grabbed my bag from under my seat, then followed the flight attendant as the dad automatically set the toddler in my abandoned seat.
I was happy for them.
But more so, for me.
A complimentary upgrade was a rare and beautiful thing. Especially while having the worst day of your life.
The curtain parted, and there I was.
In a sea of pods.
The seats were only configured in sections of two on each side of the aisle with these rounded plastic pods that lent a certain sense of privacy, and so much space between that I had to assume that the seats laid back almost into beds.
Finally, something was working in my favor.
That is, until the flight attendant waved to my seat.
I turned.
And there he was.
“You can’t be fucking serious,” I snapped, loud enough for a couple of passengers to glance back, brows raised. “Okay. I refuse this upgrade.”
An upgrade that was clearly not complimentary. Harrison had arranged and paid for it. So I had to sit next to him.
“Layna,” Harrison said in that same slightly frustrated, but mostly reasonable voice. “Would you really rather suffer through that middle seat and crying for the next five and a half hours?”
My nerves felt fried just from twenty minutes of it.
“These seats lay back. You get a nice blanket, socks, earplugs, eye mask, moisturizer, lip balm…”
“Fine,” I grumbled.
Then just like that, Harrison was out of his seat, taking my bag from me, and placing it in the overhead bin.
Every inch of his body brushed mine in the process.
My breath caught.
Every nerve ending seemed to zero in on him. I was suddenly hyperaware of his spicy cologne, of his body heat, of how he’d felt touching me, inside of me, the night before.
“Your head still hurts,” he said once his task was finished and he looked down at me. His hand moved out, tucking some of my hair behind my ear.
It wasn’t a question.
But I was too distracted by the way my skin seemed to shiver at the light touch to realize.
“Yeah.”
“Do you want the window seat?” he asked, gesturing to the seat he’d been in.
“Yes.” I bit back the gratitude on my tongue and sank into my new seat, almost moaning at the difference in comfort.
I could hear Harrison speaking to the flight attendant, but was too busy digging around in the gift bag to find my fluffy socks and eye mask to pay attention to what he was saying.
But then a big blue blanket was draped over me and I looked up to see him watching me with a look in his eyes I could only call… tender.
I knew I needed to keep my guard up around this man who refused to divorce me. But just right then, just when I was feeling so beat and vulnerable, I let him be soft with me.
“Thanks.”
“We’re about to take off. After that, you can put your legs up.”
I gave him a nod as I looked around our little pod area.
“Can I ask you something?” I asked, not quite looking at him.
“Of course.”
“How much did this cost?”
“The seat?”
“Yeah.”
“Not much. Three grand.”
Only a guy worth millions or billions would say three grand was ‘not much.’
“Why pay that much for me?”
“Because my wife flies comfortably.”
Damn him.
Why did he have to remind me of that?
And, perhaps the better question, why did my heart do a weird little squeeze at his words?
“I won’t be your wife for long,” I told him as he tightened his belt, then reached across to secure mine while the flight attendant came over the PA system to make sure everyone was belted and in the upright position.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Harrison said, shrugging as he gave my belt another tug.
He was close.
Way, way too close.
Then my memory was flashing back to my bed, to his hands, his lips, his tongue, his…
Harrison’s chin ducked, his blue eyes on me. “It wasn’t all bad, was it?” he asked, reading my mind.
Then he turned forward before I could respond.
I focused on the dying light out the window as we taxied and took off.
Once we were free to, Harrison reached over to lay my seat down without asking and passed me a neck pillow that he must have requested.
“You’re cold,” he said when his fingers brushed mine.
“My body is all out of whack today.”
I curled up slightly on my side, choosing not to think about why I curled toward him rather than the side of the plane.