I notice a flash behind those killer eyes, like he can read the X-rated thoughts playing in my head. Interesting. I may not be alone in my naughty wishes.

He leans down to me until our faces are nearly touching. “Don’t tell me that after our conversation, after falling asleep on each other, a time-out is all you want.” The muscles in his sharp jaw twitch. “Because I certainly want more.”

“Oh.” The hot air in my lungs escapes as a slow hiss.

“Here.”

He grabs my hand, which still has my phone clutched in it. The firm yet gentle way his palm cradles the back of my hand makes it impossible to breathe. He somehow knows how to touch, how to hold, how to bring my heart to a complete standstill with five seconds of contact.

He types his name and number into my phone, then dials himself. Then he releases me, saves my number to his phone, and meets my gaze once more. There’s renewed intensity in his eyes. It’s eagerness, confidence, and some mystery emotion I haven’t quite worked out yet. I’ve never seen it in all the times that we’ve looked at each other.

“I’m here until Tuesday, and I’d very much like to see you outside of this plane,” he says. “Call me if you’re interested.”

He grabs his bag from the overhead compartment, then smooths the front of his shirt with his free hand.

I shove my hands in my pockets to keep from tearing at the fabric and exposing that perfect chest, that flawless highway of light skin, hard lines, and even harder muscle.

I lick my bottom lip, then shake my head. I’m surrounded by strangers, families, children. My feral behavior is beyond ridiculous. I’m in public and need to keep the eye-fucking down to an absolute minimum.

Must regain control. I inhale slowly, steadily. “You think that’s a good idea? Us meeting up?”

As much as my body wants it, it can’t be a good thing. Our respective livelihoods depend on us ruining each other. Getting involved with each other outside of work, no matter how hot, would blur the lines for sure.

Quarters are so close in this cramped row of seats that when he leans toward me, it’s practically a hug. I can feel the heat from his body skimming across my skin. We’re barely two inches apart and this is how he feels? How hot would he feel if we were naked, skin-to-skin, under bedsheets, his body on top of mine?

A moan tickles the back of my throat. I suppress it. Airplane. Families. Children. Public decency laws.