The flight itself hasn't been terrible. We have first class suites, so I put up the privacy partition on mine as soon as we took off, and I didn't have to even think about Chelsea and how she glared at me from the other side of the aisle when Gaige got into the suite next to mine. It's almost like she doesn't exist. The seat converts into a bed, and I'm lying here on my laptop looking at the schedule, but I'm preoccupied with thoughts of Gaige.
Gaige says he wants us to be more than just a one night stand. But is it only because he doesn't want anyone else to touch me?
I press my finger to my lips, thinking about Gaige's version of owning me. I've never wanted to be possessed by someone before, but that's what I find myself wanting now.
A message appears in my inbox.
Are you sleeping? I'm bored. You should figure out a way to entertain me. That's going to be your job on this trip, right? The flight attendant has been by a million times with champagne, you know. Put down your partition and join the living.
I choke back a laugh and roll my eyes.
I know what your version of entertainment is. I'm sure Chelsea would be thrilled if that happened. Is she still giving me the evil eye through the partition?
I give it a few minutes before I go back to looking at the schedule. Obviously, Gaige got bored and moved on to something else. And that's precisely what I'm afraid of, when it comes to him and women. That's why I keep trying to push him away.
I wonder how much I'm deluding myself by thinking I'm something special in Gaige's eyes. I think I might be letting my past feelings about him affect my judgment now. I'm afraid it might be making me careless.
I have to remind myself that what's between us is just sex. That's all. We're hooking up and that's all it's going to be. It might not be just one night but it's certainly not going to be forever.
I get another email from Gaige.
Chelsea put her partition up and she hasn't poked her head out since. She slept on the flight to Vegas. You should put down your partition and entertain me.
Show me your boobs.
Have you joined the mile-high club?
I shake my head, but I lower the partition that divides us. "You're bad," I whisper.
"Aw," he says. "Why are you still wearing your shirt? I said boobs."
"I'm looking at a boob."
"Wow, you bowl me over with your witty and clever retorts, Delaney," he says, raising his eyebrow.
"Shut up. You give me very little to work with."
Gaige grins at me, reaching over to slide his hand around the back of my neck and draw me in close to him. He kisses me full on the lips, but I push him back. "What?" he asks.
"You're going to kiss me like that, right in public?"
"No one can see in here. Our partition is down but everyone else's is up. Including Chelsea's. Fool around with me."
"How many glasses of champagne have you had?" I ask. "I'm sure the flight attendants can see in here when they walk by."
"So what. Who cares?" he asks.
"So…" I start. "Despite your blasé attitude and carelessness about, well, everything, you are a minor celebrity, you know. People are interested in who your girl-of-the-moment is."
"Pfft," Gaige says. "I'm not minor. I'm fucking major, baby."
I jump back when a flight attendant interrupts us, offering champagne. Gaige charms the pants off her, and has her giggling and leaving us the bottle in less than ten seconds. With her phone number beside it.
He pours a glass and hands it to me. "What?" he asks, when he sees my face.
I shake my head. "That's what I'm talking about."
"You're jealous of the flight attendant?"
"No, don't be ridiculous. I mean, okay, you were totally flirting with her and everything. But I know that's just how you are. And she did leave you her number."
"Which I promptly tossed in the trash. Oh, you are jealous," he says, his voice sing-songy. "I love that you're jealous."
"I'm not jealous. I'm saying that people remember you. Even if they don't know who you are, they remember you. I mean, look at you," I say, gesturing down the length of him. I had a point with this. What was my point? Okay, maybe seeing Gaige charm the pants off the flight attendant threw me off a little bit. "You're hot. You're hot…and, basically, you're fucking ripped….and tattooed….and even if you weren't all of that, your eyes, I mean, they're just so…"
"No, no," he says. "Don't stop. Keep going. What else do you love about me?"
"What?" My voice comes out like a squeak. "Who said anything about love?"
Gaige shrugs. "You're the one going on and on about how sexy I am, and how you can't stand that anyone else is even looking at me –"
"That was not the point I was making," I say. "I'm just saying that you're memorable. And people do not need to remember me with you."
Gaige studies me, and the intensity of his gaze makes me blush. Damn it, he's always making me blush. "So you're just looking out for me."