I steal another glance at Callum. Peaceful, slumbering, delicious Callum. He hasn’t budged an inch since I jolted away from him. Maybe he’s one of those people who sleeps so deeply that not even an earthquake can rouse him. If that’s the case, maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if I were to lay my cheek back against his shoulder and see if I can fall asleep again.

Gently, I rest my head against him. He still doesn’t move. The rhythm of his breathing stays the same, which is an immediate relaxer for me. All of my limbs loosen, and my eyelids grow heavy once more. An internal switch has flipped—I’m sleepy again. His body is like my own personal tension reliever. If I were a ballsy woman, I’d snake my arm around his and nuzzle my nose into his neck. I’d take deep breaths of his sandalwood cologne and let that soothing aroma lull me to sleep.

But that would cross every line imaginable, and already I’m pushing it. Right now, his shoulder will have to do. Before I know it, I’m out.

A loud, muffled voice speaking a string of unintelligible words is my wake-up call. Eyes still shut, I groan. Do they train all airline crews to speak as quickly as possible so no one can understand them? Then a cheery flight attendant hops on to announce that we’re thirty minutes from landing at Heathrow. My eyes spring open. It’s then that I realize I’m still propped against Callum’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” I mumble and pull away from him while wiping the side of my face. Please, please don’t let there be any of my drool on him.

Sunlight bathes the interior of the cabin, and I do a quick scan of Callum. No drool marks on his shirt or pants. I let loose a relieved sigh.

He twists to me, sleepy grin on his face. “Sleep well?”

He tugs at his hair, which is matted in the back where he was leaning against the headrest. The front is only slightly mussed. It’s decided. Callum James has the most adorably sexy bed head in the universe.

Nodding, I turn away and run my tongue along my teeth. My breath must reek.

I swipe two sticks of gum from my pocket and shove them in my mouth. “Sorry, I um . . . I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”

A slight wrinkle appears on his forehead, but it quickly fades. “It was rather nice actually.”

“Really?”

The plane makes a sudden drop, and we clutch our armrests in unison. A minute later, all is calm once more.

He looks at me, and his smile reads tender, sincere. “I quite liked you sleeping on me, Nikki.”