1. Now Boarding

NOW BOARDING

" L et me help you with that." His voice—deep, raspy, and hot against the top of my head—startles me. At the same exact time, I feel a hard chest press into my shoulders as large, masculine hands plant just beside my outstretched fingertips, effortlessly lifting my computer bag into the overhead compartment. "There you go." The heat from his body is gone as suddenly as it appeared, leaving a crisp, clean ocean scent lingering in his wake as he moves away from me.

I shuffle back an inch, trying to give myself enough room to turn in the small space of the aisle, my heart screeching to a halt when my gaze locks onto the demi-god standing mere inches from me. Please, please, let him be sitting next to me. His eyes crinkle at the edges as they meet mine, the corners of his mouth lifting as he speaks. "You smell like roses."

My brow creases as I absorb his words. Not what I was expecting . "Excuse me?"

"The flower." He chuckles as my eyes take in his, so light green in color they almost look yellow, as he explains. "The rose."

"I know what a rose is." My cheeks heat, my lips straining to lift as I continue to meet his gaze.

"And now you're blushing like one." His tone is playful.

"You two sitting down or what?" A gruff voice grumbles from behind my demi-god's broad back.

"Sorry," I call out, glancing down at my boarding pass to confirm my seat assignment. Row one, seat A. First class. An actual first for me. I gesture to my row and slip inside, settling myself in the luxurious leather next to the window. "I'm here."

"It must be my lucky day." He gives me that grin again as he nods, lowering himself into the seat next to mine. "I'm here."

No, it's definitely my lucky day. I smile, dipping my chin, busying myself with the seatbelt, trying to hide the elation I'm sure is apparent on my face. No sooner than the buckle clicks into place, a flight attendant appears. "Can I get either of you something to drink?"

I really want to take advantage of the free booze in first class, but the sun's been out less than two hours, and I don't want the demi-god to think I'm a complete lush. When he orders a spicy bloody Mary, I have to hold myself back from throwing a fist in the air to celebrate. Decision made, I request my own beverage. "I'll have a mimosa, please."

The attendant nods. "I'll be back in a moment." The second she's out of ear-shot, the demi-god leans in my direction and whispers in a low voice, "What's the point in being in first class if you don't take advantage of the free alcohol?"

I turn my head, a huge grin breaking across my face. "Right?"

His expression matches mine as he straightens back in his chair. "What's taking you to New York?"

"All my dreams coming true, hopefully." I'm only half-joking but clarify my response. "A job interview."

"A big one, I take it?"

"The one I've been working toward my entire career."

The attendant appears, places both our drinks down on the tabletop space between our seats, and leaves. I reach for the stem of my glass, my fingertips brushing against his, electricity sparking up my arm as my eyes dart to his. One side of his mouth quirks as he raises his glass in a salute. "Cheers and best of luck on your interview."

I clink my glass against his. "Cheers." I take a sip, savoring the sweet, bubbly liquid a moment before my manners kick in. "And thank you."

His head tilts, green eyes narrowing as he lowers the crystal tumbler from his mouth. His tongue sweeps across his top lip, capturing the thin layer of tomato juice from the rough scruff above it. My eyes follow the flash of pink until it disappears back inside his mouth, and I move my line of sight away as I feel my teeth grip onto the tender flesh of my own lip. Heaven help me. How am I going to sit next to this man for the next five hours? I give myself a mental shake and expand on my expression of gratitude. "For the assistance with my bag. I forgot to say thank you."

His head bows down in acknowledgement. "You're welcome, Chloe."

"Wait." My lids squint to half-mast as I analyze him with suspicion. "How did you know my name? I haven't introduced myself."

One finger lifts off the surface of his glass to point at my boarding pass, still lying in my lap. "I may have taken a peek." A deep dimple appears on the left side of his cheek, his shoulder lifting in a causal shrug as he grins at me.

"Well, aren't you just the little snoop?" I jest, taking another sip from my flute, my lips curving around the rim as I do.

"They say it's good practice now on flights to get to know your neighbor." He takes another drink then elaborates. "In the event of an emergency, or what not."

I give him an eye roll as an easy laugh bubbles out. "Then I guess you better introduce yourself, neighbor."

His brows shoot up as he barks out a huff of laughter. "Touché." He lowers his drink back to the tabletop between us then extends his hand in my direction. "My friends call me Fin."

I arch one brow as I slide my hand into his. "Are we going to be friends, Fin?"

His fingers curl around the outside of my hand, fusing our palms together as he tugs me just a fraction closer. The temperature of his skin against mine causes the blood to ignite in my veins like a match being thrown on gasoline. My eyes pop wide when he drawls out his response. "Oh, I hope so, Chloe."

Before I can respond, his phone rings, a frown marring his perfectly sculpted lips when he checks the caller ID. He lifts his index finger. "I'm sorry, I need to take this. Please, excuse me for one minute." The phone is at his ear a second later. "What's up?"

I blink, perhaps to make sure the vision in front of me is real, or perhaps to ensure I'm actually awake and not in some fantasy. Being offered an interview for my dream job in New York was the absolute best thing to happen in months, but being stuck next to this man for an entire flight is a very close second. Trying not to make it too obvious that I'm eavesdropping on every word of his conversation, I attempt to look busy scrolling through the emails on my phone, not reading a single word as I listen. He is in total command of whomever he's speaking to, the authoritative tone of his voice demanding compliance.

"Absolutely not." His empty tumbler comes to rest next to my champagne flute before his fingers start drumming against the arm rest. "I don't give a fuck what they want. The decision has already been made," he growls, low and gruff. "Is that so?" There is a slight pause before he speaks again, determination loud and clear. "I'd love to have them even try. It would make my Goddamn day." Another pause, which lasts for less than three seconds, his patience at an obvious end. "Dean, I'm done with this discussion. They can take the deal or find someone else. I really don't give a shit, and the plane's getting ready to take-off. I'll see you in the office tomorrow."

His thumb hits the end button, and in one swift swipe, he powers his phone down, his head turning toward mine. "I think that's enough business for today."

"Bad news?" I inquire, my curiosity getting the better of me as I ponder what he might do for a living. The conversation indicating something involving power and control, and that made my insides swoon.

"Somebody who wants something they can't have." He drops the phone into the seat pocket in front of him then focuses his attention back to me. His eyes shift to our empty glasses. "Do you need another drink?"

"Sure." I shrug, impressed when the attendant is at his side with a flick of the wrist. When she steps away with our empties, I attempt to continue our conversation. "Are you from New York, or just travelling there as well for work?"

He stares at me, his eyes slanting in obvious analysis of me, the intensity of the moment causing me to squirm further back in my seat. He clears his throat before responding, his reluctance to speak about work evident. "I keep an apartment in the city, but let's not talk shop." He waves a hand in the air, effectively dismissing the topic. "I'd rather discuss anything but." He flashes me an easy smile, one that I'm guessing has dropped many pairs of panties. And, if I'm honest, a pile I'd drop mine in with little hesitation.

"All right." I cross my legs, noticing when his eyes drift to trail slowly up the bare length of my calves and thighs, over the frilled edges of my faded jean shorts, up the length of my white V-neck t-shirt, until finally locking onto my gaze again. Goosebumps break out across my flesh, though it's not from any chill in the air.

"Your drink, miss." The attendant bends between us, severing the moment as she delivers our cocktails. "And yours, sir." She leans in further, arching her shoulder into my demi-god's personal space, the move an obvious attempt to show him more of her cleavage. "You just let me know if I can get you anything else."

Oh. My. God. Are you kidding me? One side of my lip twitches up in disbelief, morphing into a shocked smile when I hear his response. "Just a little space." I have to stifle a giggle when she jerks into an upright position, a stiff nod her only reply as she scurries away.

Fin trains his gaze on me, his brow cocked. "What's so funny?"

I roll my eyes, unable to mask my disdain. "That was such a cliché moment." His return stare vacant as I elaborate. "You know," I wrinkle my nose, "the sexy stewardess trying to hit on the hot, rich guy in first class." I laugh in an attempt to hide my nerves, but know my inflamed cheeks are giving me away. I keep babbling like an idiot. "I'm sure that happens to you so much that you don't even realize it."

His index finger strokes back and forth across his lips, his eyes roaming over my face, the low tone of his response delivering a tingle up my spine. "You're blushing again."

" Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome aboard Patriotic Airways flight 3583 to New York City. In preparation for departure —" Saved by the bell? Okay, announcement in this case, but the perfect opportunity to turn my reddened cheeks away from Fin to pull my safety information card out of the pocket in front of me and pretend I'm as engrossed as a first-time flier. It doesn't work.

"You think I'm hot?" His breath is warm, smelling sweet from the tomato juice in his drink as it wafts over me. He's leaning on the table between us, his head just inches from mine.

I twist my head until our eyes latch. "That was your take-away from that?" I scoff, giving him a playful nudge with my elbow. "You don't need my justification to know you're a good-looking man."

"And don't forget rich." One brow arches as he counters, sarcasm obvious as he shifts back. "Because you can tell that just by looking at me, right?"

"Not always." I glance down between us. "But when you have a ten-thousand-dollar Omega strapped on your wrist, it's a pretty good indicator."

He chuckles, nodding in defeat, but continues to argue with me. "And yet, generally, only someone else with money would know the value of a watch like this." His lips purse as his eyes scan my form once again in scrutiny. "But you're definitely not typical. Not in your cut-off denim shorts, gap t-shirt, and chucks."

"Are you asking me if I'm rich, Fin?" I flash a smug smile, enjoying this little guessing game we're playing.

"Now what kind of gentleman would I be if I did that?" He finishes the rest of his drink in two long gulps. He hands his glass and then mine to the attendant collecting them for take-off, then swings his attention back to me. "Besides, it doesn't matter one way or the other to me." He finds the straps to his seatbelt and clicks them into place around his lean waist, his gaze sweeping up to mine when he's done. "Friends don't care about those kinds of things."

"Oh yes, that's right. I forgot." I roll my eyes dramatically at him. "We're friends now."

"Yes, friends." One side of his mouth lifts, his dimple amplifying the simple grin into something so much sexier. Or maybe it's the way his gaze seems to sear into mine, stirring something inside of me that I have left untended for far too long. Whatever it is, there is no doubt that it wants to be much more than friends with the demi-god.