Stevie slips her hand in mine, bringing my attention back to her as she hides in the corner of the galley for no one else to see, her back pressed against the wall.
She tugs the fabric of my shirt, bringing me to stand only inches in front of her. My palms find the wall behind her on either side of her head, caging her in.
I’m painfully aware that my chest is rising and falling more rapidly than it should, but this girl has had me off my game for months now, and I’m nervously breathing like there might not be any oxygen left on board soon.
What is she going to do? What is she going to let me do?
Looking up at me behind those dark lashes, Stevie’s eyes bounce between mine. There’s a touch of uncertainty in those blue-greens. Like she’s not sure what’s she’s doing. Like she’s not sure if she can say it.
But she seems like she wants to say it.
Say it.
“Yes.” She bites her bottom lip. “I wish I could go with you.”
“Good Day” blares through the aircraft, wafting from the boom box speakers as my mouth lifts on one side. My tongue slyly wets my lips as Stevie’s eyes trail the movement, asking them to come closer without saying a word.
And when she hooks two fingers into the gold chain around my neck, bringing my mouth to hers, I know it’s going to be a good day.
It’s going to be a good fucking year.
My mouth covers hers, needing, wanting, taking everything she has to offer.
Her hand curves around my neck, pulling me in, her metal rings cooling the heat of my skin. I lean into her, pushing her up against the side of the aircraft, needing to get as close as I can, needing everything.
My hands leave the wall, and instead, cup both her cheeks as her lips part open, her tongue sweeping in and finding mine. She’s soft and warm, and for someone who has never been one for intimate kissing, I can’t imagine not having this moment.
Her hips rhythmically push into mine with want, and the moan that leaves my throat is loud, but thankfully Rio’s music covers up my desperate and hungry sounds.
The plane is getting louder, the boys are getting rowdier, and I need to stop so I don’t get Stevie in trouble.
But, fuck, I don’t want to stop.
So, I don’t.
My tongue explores her, swiping and tasting, our lips moving in perfect sync, not missing a beat, like we were made to do this with each other.
Finally, and unfortunately, Stevie pulls back slightly, breaking the connection. But the content smile she’s wearing on her swollen lips holds no sign of regret—just satisfaction.
Fuck, I like kissing her.
Keeping my tatted hands covering her jaw, I lean my forehead on hers, both of us trying to fill our lungs with the oxygen we deprived ourselves of for a little too long.
“Happy New Year,” I whisper into her lips.
“Happy New Year.” She smiles.
The amount of eye contact going on right now would’ve been alarming a few months ago, but I can’t find the will to look away.
I want it.
I want her.
She holds my stare, both of us equally content in this place.
“I’ll take a sparkling water,” I softly say, ruining the moment because I have to before someone comes back here.
My cheeky smile is filled with amusement as Stevie playfully pushes my chest away.
“Get out of here,” she laughs.
Finding myself exceptionally hilarious, I chuckle right along with her before I head back to my seat. I take one step out of the galley before changing my mind and quickly turning back to steal one more swift kiss, away from anyone’s sight.
“Extra limes, sweetheart.” I linger right above her lips.
“I hate you.”
24
STEVIE
“You look beautiful, Vee.”
Ryan turns his head my way in the back seat, giving me a soft and proud grin as we wait in the line of cars out front of an all too extravagant building.
“Thank you.” I nudge my shoulder into his.
“No, thank you. If you didn’t agree to be my plus-one to this thing, I would’ve been screwed. Do you remember my GM’s niece? The one I had to help out with that movie premiere? She hasn’t left me alone since, and our General Manager asked me to bring her tonight, but thankfully, you had already said yes.”
“Sounds like true love. I’m sorry to have stood in the way.”
“Please. Basketball is my only true love.”
“Romantic.”
Running my hands down the sky-blue satin of my gown, I take a deep breath. The price tag on this dress almost made me sick, it was so expensive. But as soon as I put it on and my brother saw the confidence run through every nerve in my body, he checked out and paid for it before I was even out of the dressing room.
Confidence has been an interesting word lately.
I couldn’t tell you the last time I felt it consistently, but I have as of late. As much as I don’t want to admit it, Zanders’ attention has done a number on my self-confidence—in the best way possible.
I know he doesn’t completely know me, but the parts he’s seen, make me feel seen. He knows the right things to say, and not in a blanket statement this-is-what-girls-like-to-hear way. But in a way that they’re catered just to me. He makes me feel good, whether that’s his small lingering stares, the sweet gift on Christmas, or the hot as hell kiss on New Year’s.
He makes me feel good.
The New Year’s kiss was my fault, and probably shouldn’t have happened, but I couldn’t help myself. I’d been fighting our physical connection for months now, and for just a moment, I wanted to give in. I wanted to feel wanted.
But that kiss felt like a step in the direction I promised myself I wouldn’t take.
I’ve been teetering with the idea that maybe I can keep it casual by doing the road hookup thing with him. Truthfully, I have no idea what’s going on between us, so to protect my heart, I’ve been trying to convince myself that’s all it is for Zanders—a physical pull. Because allowing myself to believe it’s anything more than that opens me up to getting hurt.
The potential damage he could do, judging by the way I feel about him already, scares the shit out of me.
The guy doesn’t date, he rarely repeats his hookups, and he sure as hell doesn’t do relationships—at least he never has before. But I have to be okay with that because I want to be around him.
I like talking to him.
I like that he lets me see hidden sides to him.
I loved sleeping with him, and I like the confidence he gives me.
Though, at this moment, as we pull up in front of endless flashing cameras, thanks to the mob of reporters trying to get a taste of every big athlete in Chicago attending Maddison’s fundraiser, the confidence is replaced with nerves.
“You’re good, Vee,” Ryan quietly says, reassuring me before his door opens.
As my brother steps out of the car and onto the red carpet, flashes illuminate the night sky so brightly you’d assume it was mid-afternoon instead of eight in the evening. The shouts and cheers for my twin’s attention cause my throat to dry up, knowing I’m about to step out next to him.
I hate this.
Maybe our driver can pull around back and drop me off there instead.
I’m about two seconds from asking him when my brother reaches back into the car, holding his hand out for me to grab.