Page 49 of From Air

“Are you sure?” His lips brush my ear, hands gripping my hips while he shifts a fraction.

“St-stop.”

He palms my ass.

I should have worn jeans. These leggings are useless. His erection might be buried under denim and cotton briefs, but I still feel it, and that’s all it takes.

I bite my lip to suppress my moan or any other sound while remaining as still as possible. Does he know I’m holding my breath to hide the blinding orgasm ripping through my body? It’s all I can do to keep from jerking my hips and mumbling a low “Oh god ...”

This is a first. Never did I imagine the day would come when I’d feel the need to hide an orgasm. Fake one? Sure. But not hide it.

A fraction at a time, I release my breath. Nothing happened. Everything’s normal.

“We”—I clear my throat—“better get home.”

I lift my head from his shoulder and smile.

Fitz’s gaze sweeps across my face, his expression nothing short of wonder. He swipes a finger along my forehead. Mysweatyforehead.

“It’s hot in here. You have the heat pretty high,” I say with a nervous laugh.

“Do you need a cigarette?” A slow grin takes up residence on his smug face.

“You wish.” I climb off his lap and plop into the passenger seat.

He laughs. It’s great that one of us finds this amusing. He responds to everything I say with a chuckle.

“I’ll get a hotel room. I assume you’ll stay with your friend. Problem solved.” He shifts his truck into drive.

I can think of a hundred places and ways we can have sex that don’t involve sharing a bed or even the same hotel room. He extinguishes wildfires. How can he not see the danger in this situation?

“Yup. Problem solved,” I mumble, staring out the window, feeling sweat between my cleavage and the warm, wet aftermath between my legs from dry humping Calvin Fitzgerald in the bowling alley parking lot.

Chapter Fifteen

I have no knowledge of TSA regulations. So I get my oversize shampoo and scissors confiscated, but only after I make the walk of shame to empty my water bottle, which disrupts the flow of the line and garners a few scowls.

“Thanks for the heads-up,” I grumble while we mosey toward our gate, Fitz with his bag slung over his shoulder and me pulling my red suitcase behind me.

“Heads-up? How was I supposed to know you knew nothing about TSA? And if you wanted my help, you should have asked me to inspect the contents of your bag before we left home.”

“Now I’m parched, with no water.”

“We’re past security. You can refill your bottle.”

“The water won’t taste right.” I drag my feet behind him.

“Get something besides water.”

“I don’t want anything but water. I want the water from my bottle.”

Several dozen feet from our gate, Fitz stops and pivots. I abruptly halt just short of bumping into him. “What’s going on, Goldilocks?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, why are you so unruly today? So irritated and short tempered.”

My teeth trap my bottom lip while my gaze shifts to the side for a few seconds. “I’m nervous about flying. And everything that’s goingon feels like a bad sign. And I overheard you talking with Maren and Will about this trip, and I know they think it’s a bad idea, and they’re probably right. So not only am I worried about dying, I’m worried that something’s going to happen, and Iwilllive to have to deal with the consequences.”

---