Wreck the Halls

Striving for casual, Melody turned in her wide, leather seat and glanced toward the rear of the plane to where Beat was thumbing through a neat bundle of paperwork, his brow in a furrow. He licked his index and middle fingers to turn the page, and a huge, industrial-sized crank turned below her belly button.

It seemed that every time she blinked, she would remember those long fingers tugging the band of her panties forward to look at her.

Goddamn, Peach. Are you on the pill just in case? Pulling out of that pussy is going to be torture.

In the heat of the moment, those words had made her hot. Brought her to the brink. In the light of day—or bad airplane cabin lighting, as it were—they only made her wonder. Made her think. Physically removing himself from her seemed to be a . . . theme? Or a need?

As if he’d heard her thoughts out loud, Beat’s attention snapped up and gripped her with enough intensity to power the airplane.

“Psst.” Danielle elbowed her in the ribs. “You’re staring.”

“Right.” Wetting her suddenly dry lips, Melody whipped back to a forward-facing position, keeping her eyes closed until her pulse slowed down. “I don’t suppose I could persuade you to distract me with the truth about you and Joseph, our trusty cameraman?”

“Distract you from what?”

“Air travel makes me anxious.”

“If you’re going to demand the truth out of me, you have to return the favor.”

“I guess I owe you one,” Melody grumbled. “For letting me know I was mooning over Beat on camera.”

“Whatever you tell me stays between us.” The producer crossed her legs and shifted to face Melody more fully. “The two of you are interesting enough in front of the lens. I don’t even have to stir the pot behind the scenes.”

“Is that standard practice on a reality show?”

Danielle considered spilling, then visibly changed her mind. “You’ll have to read about it in my memoir one day.”

Melody used a finger to click the air. “Preorder.” Danielle smiled, but remained silent, giving Melody an encouraging nod. “We kissed last night,” she whispered. “Made out, really.”

“Shock of the century.”

Just say it. Rip it off like a Band-Aid. “He sort of . . . walked away.”

Danielle did a double take. “I actually didn’t see that one coming. Elaborate?”

“No.” Melody shook her head adamantly. “Your turn.”

The producer definitely wanted to dive deeper into Melody’s explanation, slumping comically. “Joseph and I came up through the ranks together at a twenty-four-hour news network. We ran in the same circles, crossed paths, and always had that . . . flirty nemesis thing going on. Then around eight years ago, we were on a field assignment, covering a storm, and we were forced to spend the night in the news van. I’ll let you fill in the blanks.”

“Sounds like he filled in the blanks.”

Danielle snorted. “Anyway, he’s got this whole ‘I’m in charge’ bullshit going on and . . .” She picked up the magazine she’d been reading and absently started to fan herself. “It’s the opposite of what I want. Outside of bed, anyway. In bed . . .”

Melody examined that statement. “Were you surprised to find out you enjoyed being with someone like that in bed?”

“Surprised doesn’t even begin to cover it.” The producer threw an irritable glance over her shoulder. “And the bastard constantly reminds me I enjoyed it.”

“That accounts for the tension, I guess,” Melody murmured, replaying the conversation in her head. Danielle and Joseph had clear preferences in bed. Melody had never been comfortable enough to explore her own . . . but maybe Beat had? What if he had certain interests and she hadn’t discovered them yet? He’d certainly dropped some hints last night. Maybe the problem hadn’t been her eagerness . . . and instead, he just needed a little more time to share what turned him on?

Don’t let me come.

Melody realized her heart was racing and unbuckled her seat belt with fidgety hands, needing desperately to move—and unfortunately, there was only one place to hide on a plane. On the way to the bathroom, she passed a dozing Joseph who was napping at the rear, his camera off and buckled into the seat beside him, like a small child. Melody used the restroom quickly, washed her hands, splashed some cold water on her face and then started to return to her seat when the plane hit a patch of turbulence—

She stumbled sideways in the aisle, reaching for purchase.

“Mel,” Beat said sharply, catching her wrist.

Before she knew what was happening, he’d changed her flailing trajectory and pulled her down into his lap. She winced at the crunch of paperwork beneath her butt. “Oh God. I’m sorry. I hope that wasn’t important.”

A muscle jumped in his cheek. Did he just glance at her mouth? “It’s only paper.” Melody nodded, started to get back up, but the plane jolted again, rocking her on his lap toward his chest and prompting him to take a sharp inhale. “Mmmm.”

Hunger swooped down inside of her. Deep. “I should go back to my seat.”

The plane disagreed by traveling over several bumpy air pockets. Beat’s hand tightened on the seat’s armrest with each one. “You’ll get hurt. Stay here until it stops.”

There was some truth to his words. She wasn’t coordinated on her best day. Trying to make it back to her seat while the plane was going over turbulence could easily end in a concussion. But pretending the position wasn’t coaxing something to life inside both of them was growing more and more impossible. If the sheaf of papers wasn’t trapped between them, she suspected Beat would be hard beneath her butt. The hand he’d been using to clutch the armrest slid onto her knee, his thumb digging into the sensitive inside. It inched higher after a particularly rough bump of turbulence. Squeezed.

The seam of her jeans became too tight. But she would get through this unscathed. They would. They just needed a distraction.

“Tell me about the paperwork I just butt crushed?”

“Yeah,” he rasped, closing his eyes. “It’s, uh . . . applications. From scholarship hopefuls. We’ll announce our January recipient on New Year’s Day.” He appeared to be trying to focus on the subject she’d broached. “It’s always a hard choice, but picking from this group is almost impossible. There isn’t a single one of them that doesn’t deserve it.”

“What kind of criteria do you look for?”

Something sparked in his eyes. Excitement. A passion for his job that made her chest carve itself open for him even wider. “Obviously, academics are paramount, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg for these kids. They’re all at the top of their class. So we have to go beyond that. Look at their club participation, recommendation letters. Once we have about a dozen standouts, that’s when we watch their recorded audition files.”

Melody felt her own excitement building. “How do you inform the winner?”

A corner of his mouth lifted. “We usually contact their parents or guardian, arrange a Zoom call. Octavia appears on the screen and tells them college is paid for. It’s . . .” He trailed off, nodding. “It’s something.”

“And you make it happen.”

“They make it happen. I just do the research.”