11. Ryan
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ryan
My headaches were thriving for a little over two days, the stress of what to expect eating at me.
Seeing Paige reminded me of her talking shit about my mom, which certainly didn’t help.
Yet, the moment the TSA agent pulled Paige’s vibrator from her suitcase, my headache was gone.
Her typically pale skin turned a bright red shade, and I’m sure she would’ve melted into the floor if that was a physical possibility.
I don’t know what her deal is with those vibrators, but I’m not judging. She’s a grown woman, and masturbation isn’t something to be ashamed of. Still, that doesn’t mean I won’t use the chance to mess with her, since it obviously bothers her that much.
We reach the gate just in time for boarding, when Roger announces, “The tickets were a little last minute, so I couldn’t seat us all together.” Fine with me. I’d prefer to sleep anyway. “But I did manage to split us into pairs.”
Just as I suspected, Paige and I are the odd ones out, meaning we’re flying together. After that dreadful dinner, I was hardly interested in talking to her, but it sounds more fun now that I have new ammunition to tease her.
We reach our seats and I notice I’m the lucky winner of a window seat.
The realization makes my face split into a smile, one that turns wider when I notice Paige eyeing it.
By the nibble of her lips, and the glare at the spot I’m sitting in, I’d say that she’d love to have it but doesn’t want to ask.
Too bad.
With a loud exhale, I drop into the seat, stretching my arms above me.
Paige makes a barely noticeable eye roll, and a tiny spark of contentment lights up in my stomach.
Roger splurged on first-class tickets, which is nice, I’ll give him that.
My legs have room to stretch out, a rarity for people my height.
The seats are wider than usual, meaning our legs don’t touch—definitely a bonus.
“I am not a sex addict, you know,” Paige mutters to me just as a flight attendant reaches our row to remind us of the seatbelts.
The attendant freezes in place, opening and closing her mouth before stuttering. “P-please p-put your seatbelts on for the takeoff.”
Paige’s head snaps to the airline employee and even though her face is turned away from me, I see the tips of her cheeks turning that signature dark red.
I swallow, struggling to suppress a chuckle, but do as instructed and clip my seatbelt.
Paige follows suit, her fingers fumbling with the clasp.
The attendant leaves, and Paige releases a relieved breath, relaxing in her seat.
I use the moment to respond to her previous comment. “Evidence suggests otherwise.”
She lets out a tiny, angry scoff, and I’m smiling so hard my cheeks are starting to hurt. “Objection. It’s all circumstantial.”
That spark of contentment turns into a cozy, happy flame. “Might be, but I think the jury is convinced.”
Her arms cross in front of her chest as she releases an annoyed huff.
“Is that why you’re worried about my mom taking Roger’s money? You’re scared of losing your dildo allowance?”
Her nostrils flare but she doesn’t reward me with a response.
I’m still smiling from ear to ear. Truth is, by her reaction when I delivered those toys to her, and today at the security check, I know there must be a story behind it.
A person accustomed to sex toys wouldn’t be so flustered about them.
But the way it moves her off her axis is simply too delicious to resist.
She ignores me for most of the flight. At one point, I extract the book Parker gave us, deciding to start reading it. She pretends she doesn’t notice it, but I see the way her gaze flickers to the cover, trying to figure out what it is I’m reading.
“Huh, wouldn’t peg you for a romance guy,” she comments, the corner of her lips tipping.
“While I’m sure you have the right gear for it, pegging is not something I’m into.”
Her dark blue eyes widen in shock, her lips parting. “You’re deranged.”
I lift my hand in surrender, giving her a second of reprieve.
“You’d be right.” Her brow tightens in confusion.
“About me not being a romance guy. This”—I lift the book in the air—“is for a book club.” If I thought I shocked her earlier, she’s positively stunned now.
“What? You don’t think a man like me would be in a book club?
A stupid delivery driver whose only ambition is to get your dad’s money? ”
It doesn’t matter that the book club was something Parker forced me into. That this was the first book he assigned for us to read. Or that the intention was mostly Parker’s attempt to talk about sex without it being creepy. What matters is getting a reaction out of her.
By the way her mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, I’d say I succeeded. Finally, she brushes a strand of silky dark hair behind her ear.
“T-that’s not what I meant.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.” I wink before returning to the book.
Her eyes stick to me for a few more moments before she gives up, focusing her attention on her phone.
Parker’s book starts off as a cutesy rom-com.
It’s a fun, relaxing read, one that makes it easy to forget about the world around you.
Then, not even fifty pages in, it takes a sudden, steamy turn.
My heart rate picks up as I read in excruciating detail how the small-town baker eats out the girl trying to run him out of business after they spent the first part of the book hating each other.
Blood rushes to my head—and groin—as my T-shirt grows too tight around my neck.
The feeling turns uncomfortable, but I can’t look away until the end of the chapter.
Just as both the chapter and the female character are about to finish, something falls on my shoulder, making me flinch.
The book drops between my legs, as Paige lets out a soft snore.
I turn my head slowly to check what I already know.
Paige has fallen asleep and her head is now nestled on my shoulder.
My first reflex is to place her head back on her seat.
After all the shit she said, she doesn’t deserve me to act as her pillow.
But a simple thought of how embarrassed she’ll be when she wakes up and realizes it is enough for me to give up on the idea.
There’s no way for me to retrieve the dropped book without disturbing her, which might be a blessing, because I was maybe twenty pages away from needing to use the bathroom.
Her deep, soft breaths force my lungs into the same rhythm, like the need to coordinate steps when you’re walking with someone. The lengthening of my breaths soon lulls me to sleep, too.