1. Selena

"Hey Mom, yeah I'm late because I got drunk and railed by some hot ass stranger last night," I say out loud, practicing how I'd deliver the news to her. Shaking my head, I laugh and focus back on the task at hand: packing.

My plane is set to take off in two fucking hours and I still need to get to the airport and check in. Racing around the room, I throw shit in my bag haphazardly. I don't have time to double-check what I'm packing.

I promised my mom that I'd be there with a smile on my face. Deep down, I am happy for her. She found love again. Losing Dad was hard, especially the way he suffered in those last few years as cancer slowly took him from the healthy, muscular athletic trainer, to looking like the king from that dragon show everyone raves about.

It just seems like we're saying goodbye to the chapter of our life that housed him and ushering in a new one with, what was his name again—ahh, shit, I know it started with an ‘A'. It's one of the reasons I went out with my friends last night instead of packing. To drink my sorrow away. Getting blackout drunk and waking up in a panic next to a naked, chiseled body this morning wasn't part of the plan.

That whole interaction is one big black hole. When I realized what had happened, I got dressed and ran the hell out of there as fast as my feet would take me. Which leads me to the predicament I"m in now, trying to get everything done to get to the airport before my flight takes off without me and I have to explain the shitshow of events to my mother.

I'm walking out the door to wait downstairs for my Uber, trying to juggle my coffee, purse, phone, and keys in one hand as I lock the door with the other when my phone rings. The unexpected sound causes me to jump and about drop my coffee.

Seeing my mother's picture flash across the screen, I let out a groan. If I don't answer now, she'll continue to call until I do. Might as well pull the bandaid off.

"Mom," I huff out, short of breath as I try to lock the door, only to fumble and drop the keys.

"Selena Reign Middleton, please do not tell me you're still at home!" she screams in panic through the line, and I wince.

"No, Mom. I'm at the airport. Just heading to the gate." God forgive me for lying.

"Selena, I may be old, but I'm not dumb. If you miss your flight, I'm going to kill you. Abel's sons are already going to be late, just barely making it for the ceremony. I need you here," she chastises me.

"Mom, I know how important this is to you and I won't be late. Well, the only way I would be is if the flight is delayed, so don't worry. I'll see you this evening. I'll call you before I board my connecting flight, so you'll know when to expect me. Now I have to go. I love you. See you soon." I disconnect the call, awkwardly slide the phone into my bag, and lock the door.

Hurrying to the elevator, I step inside. My hands are full, so it's a struggle to hit the first floor button. After a couple of tries, it finally lights up, and I thank whoever is listening. I back up and rest against the wall, blowing out a deep breath.

I miss you, Dad! If you were here, I wouldn't be going through this. Dealing with Mom's criticism all on my own. Seeing her marry another man who isn't you.

It's not fair.

The Uber arrives just as I step out of my apartment building and onto the sidewalk. A middle-aged gentleman with graying hair, receding hairline and a potbelly exits the driver's side as the trunk of his car pops up and helps me store my luggage away.

"Selena?" he asks.

"Yes." I smile, handing him my last bag. You'd think my name would be the first thing he confirmed.

"Heading on a trip? I see I'm taking you to the airport," he asks, no doubt trying to make idle chit-chat.

"Yeah, my mother's getting married. I'm actually going to meet her husband and his sons for the first time," I tell him as I move toward the rear passenger door and climb inside his royal blue Toyota Camry. He closes the trunk, and seconds later slides in behind the wheel.

I scrunch my nose when the smell of smoke and body odor hits me. It's then I realize I never showered and still reek of sex. God help me. Hopefully, the stench in the car will overpower the smell coming off me.

"Second marriage?" He glances at me in the rearview mirror.

I guess he took when I spilled where I was going as an open invitation to ask more questions.

I purse my lips, not wanting to talk about my life with some random stranger. He continues to stare, waiting for an answer. Guess my silence isn't an obvious enough clue, so I finally speak up, not really wanting to be rude.

"Yes, sir, my dad passed away a few years ago. She met Abel on a singles' second chance cruise and, well, two months later, they're getting married," I tell him, reaching in my bag and pulling out my phone to send my mom a text.

Selena, why in the hell do you keep telling this guy all this information? He could be a killer.

Me: Mom, when I get in, I'm just going straight to the resort and checking in.

Mom: No, that's not acceptable.

Me: Why not?

What does it matter if I check in without seeing her first? All she wants is to portray the image of a perfect family. I'm doing that just by being at the wedding. Shouldn't that be enough?

Mom: I told Abel what time you're getting in and he wants to meet you and have a late lunch before taking me for a moonlight cruise on his boat.

Mom: His sons will be here tomorrow afternoon, just in time for the wedding. They had to rearrange their shifts at their new job. At least one of our children will be here today.

Me: Mom!

Really? People do have to work and this wedding was just planned not even two months ago.

Mom: What? It's the truth, you'd think our children would be here supporting us instead of giving us anxiety on our special day.

Me: okay well they're calling for us to board gtg.

I hate lying, but listening to her bitch is even worse.

The driver, bless his heart, must finally get the picture that I don't want to talk. I immerse myself in my phone, scrolling through all my emails, answering the ones I need to, and deleting the spam. A little while later, as we pull up in front of the airport, I'm just finishing clearing out the nearly three hundred emails in my inbox.

I never thought being an accountant would require answering this many emails, especially when it's not even tax season. I've been lucky in my career, starting as a freelance accountant. Word of mouth spread quickly, and I gained a steady clientele, affording me the ability to work from home, as well as set my own schedule.

"Have a wonderful trip and congratulations to your mother," he tells me sweetly. I'll need to remember to give him a good driver review on the app.

Gathering my suitcase, garment, and toiletry bag, I rush to the check-in counter, praying I have everything I need and can get through the check-in line quickly. Thankfully. Somewhere hears my prayers and it doesn't.

"Okay, ma'am. Here's your boarding pass, but you need to hurry. Your plane is set to take off in fifteen minutes and they've already begun boarding," the pimply face man tells me. I mean, when did they start hiring teenagers? Because that's what this guy looks like.

"Shit!" I panic, gathering my purse and racing toward the checkpoint.

The whole process eats away at my time. I put all my items in the bin, including shoes, and walk through the metal detector, praying it doesn't go off because it'll only delay me more. Once I make it through, I still have to wait for the bin to get down the conveyor belt.

When it does, I slide my shoes back and race through the airport to my gate like I'm heading toward the finish line, with my eyes on the gold medal.

"Wait, wait!" I scream as I see the attendant getting ready to close the gate.

She hears my screams and looks like she thinks about it for a moment before stopping.

"You're lucky," she tells me.

"Thank you, thank you," I rush out, breathless.

She quickly checks my boarding pass and directs me toward the plane. All eyes are on me when I step inside, especially the little old lady at the front who's glaring like I held the plane up for hours when, in actuality, they were just shutting the door.

Ignoring everyone, I head down the aisle to my seat. Relief washes over me when I sit down, having made my first flight on time, and I blow out a deep breath. The stewardess goes through her pre-flight spiel and the next thing I know, we're in the air.

It only takes about an hour to get to the next airport and once again I'm off and running to the next terminal. Thankfully, they weren't closing the gate in my face, but I was the last to make it there. If I had missed my connecting flight, I don't know what I would have done. Mom would've really killed me, going on about how I was irresponsible and trying to ruin her life.

I feel like I haven't been able to catch my breath since this morning. It doesn't help that I woke up with a hangover.

Making my way down the aisle, I look for my assigned seat. When I finally spot it, I stop dead in my tracks, staring at the guy occupying the window seat next to mine who's hot as sin. He's got dark brown hair, so dark it's almost black, and a chiseled jaw. Tattoos wrap around his exposed forearm, disappearing underneath his shirt sleeve.

He stares as I sit down. Did it just get really hot in here?

"Fuck, you're gorgeous. Looks like I get the amazing company of the most beautiful woman on the plane," he tells me, causing the blood to rush to my cheeks as I giggle. Ahh shit! Where in the hell did that come from?

"Cocky, aren't we? But I'm sure there are far prettier women than me on the plane who would cream their panties for lines like that. That's just not me." I joke with an awkward laugh as I buckle my seatbelt. Before he can reply, the airline attendant begins her safety speech.

I keep glancing at the deliciously handsome man next to me. The scent of his cedarwood cologne makes me rub my thighs together and all I want to do is climb into his lap and ride him until we both see stars.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Settle down Selena and get your hormones in check.

I've never been a prude when it comes to sex, but I am more on the reserved side. But from the quick fuck last night, to the racing dirty thoughts of the man sitting next to me, you'd think I was a common street corner prostitute.

I feel the stroke of a hand across my arm and jump as my hairs stand on end from the electrifying touch. Shooting daggers at the culprit, he smirks.

"Seeing how we're buddies until the plane gets to the next stop, I thought I'd introduce myself. I'm Elias, twenty-nine, single, no kids, good job. And what about you, Princess?" He grins and shifts slightly in his seat, facing me.

Wanting to have a bit of fun, I decide to fuck with him a little and knock his overconfident ass down a notch or two. "I'm Veronica, thirty-eight. I look good for my age. I have six kids with six different fathers. I live off men because I hate to work and I'm currently looking for husband number four. Do you want to apply?" I lean closer to him and bat my eyes.

He looks shocked for a moment, before howling with laughter, scaring the people around us. I can feel everyone's eyes on us for a second before the plane begins to taxi down the runway, getting ready to take off.

"You almost had me. I love a girl with a sense of humor. The marriage part I'm not sure about, we've only just met. But I'd certainly fill out the boyfriend application. You seem like a girl that'll keep me on my toes. Want to give me the real details now?" He gives me a flirty wink. You know, the one all the cheeky bastards use that has girls dropping their panties in seconds.

"Wow, you're deranged, aren't ya? All that and you still want to apply, or are you just looking to get your dick wet? A little hit it and quit it?" An evil smirk takes over my face.

"Oh, you wound me!" He places his hand over his chest and mocks a pained look.

"Do all the ladies fall for these lines of yours? Because for you to be using them, either they must, or you're a glutton for punishment." I chuckle, but damn if I don't secretly want to fall for every single one.

I'm feeling like a floozy, as my mother would call it, having slept with a man last night whose name I can't recall. And now this guy, who I'd take into the bathroom on this plane right now, just to join the mile high club. Just the thought of that has me squeezing my thighs together to ease the ache that's building in my core. A move that doesn't go unnoticed by my handsome neighbor.

"Are you okay, Princess? Something you need help with?" He leans closer with a cocky smirk on his face. His eyes have a twinkle to them and the thought of crawling into his lap, not giving a fuck who sees, crosses my mind.

He thinks he's embarrassing me, but he's not, so I decide to play along. "So, are you going to follow me to the bathroom, slam my face up against the wall, and fuck me from behind?" I wink as I let out a raspy moan and bite my bottom lip.

He grins, looking up toward the seatbelt sign that now shows we can move around the cabin, and stands. He leans down and whispers into my ear, which sends shivers down my spine. "Your wish is my command. Meet me there in a minute." He turns and heads toward the bathroom, leaving me breathless, needy, and extremely wet.

What the fuck do I do now?