Chapter 14
MELTS IN YOUR MOUTH
Aubrey
I’ve seen enough TV to imagine what flying private looks like. Cushy leather seats, immaculate service, the royal treatment. Reality is even better.
Thirty minutes into a smooth flight up the coast, I run a palm along the buttery material of my chair. There are four spacious seats on this Embraer Phenom jet, one on each side of the aisle, so every seat has a window, and we face each other.
“It’s official,” I say, meeting the gaze of the guys across from me. “I’m addicted.”
Dev smiles in agreement. “It’s hard to go back to commercial.”
“Especially since you always need the tenth row,” Ledger says to Dev.
I swivel my gaze to Dev. “Superstitious?”
“It works. I’m telling you, it works,” Dev says, clearly a believer.
Ledger cups the side of his mouth. “And, he laces his skates up right skate first.”
“Because I’m right-handed, man,” Dev says.
“Sure,” Ledger says.
“Not everything I do is a superstition.”
“But most things are,” Ledger counters with his eyes on me, and I can tell he’s ribbing him for my benefit. Well, ribbing appreciated.
“Can we make always flying private your new superstition?” I tease.
Dev smiles knowingly. “See? They’re a good thing. I’m glad you like the service, Aubs.”
There’s also a flight attendant on the plane.
I don’t even know why we have one, but Dev said the service came with the plane.
Since Sterling has already brought us prosecco, I can’t complain.
I swirl the crystal flute I’m holding, having too much fun.
“Yes, please book me a private flight every time, Fitzgibbons,” I say in a snooty British voice.
“Is Fitzgibbons your butler or your personal secretary?” Ledger asks, amused.
“Don’t you know? All good hair stylists need personal secretaries.
” I take a drink of the delicious bubbly and a very obvious idea hits me.
“This isn’t the same as a private jet or anything, but if either of you ever need a haircut, it’s on the house.
” Already, I know they’ll try to pay me, so I preemptively put my foot down.
“And if you ever go to another stylist I’ll be devastated for life, so consider that before you get your locks trimmed elsewhere. ”
Dev rakes his fingers through his messy hair. It’s light brown, wavy, a little on the long side. More shaggy than anything though. “Aubs, is that your subtle way of saying I need a haircut?”
“No. Your locks are lovely,” I say to Dev.
He winks, and then I look at Ledger as I finish off my glass of champagne. “Yours are too.”
“Glad you think so,” Dev says, tugging at his own hair. “Because while I might not tie up my shoes in a set order due to superstition, Ledger”—he drops the name like it’s an insult—“I do always save my off-season haircut and get it chopped right before the first game.”
In seconds, Sterling materializes at my side. “Would you like some more, ma’am?”
Damn, that is some kind of service. Sterling’s older than I am by a couple decades, so I hardly feel like a ma’am but still, I tell the silver-haired, barrel-chested man in the black pants and white dress shirt that I’d love another glass.
“As you wish,” he says, then takes the flute to fill it.
He retreats to the galley and Ledger arches a brow at me. “Question for you.”
“Hit me up.”
“Do you cut your own hair? I’ve always been curious.”
“I can. But I don’t.” I cross my legs and kick my foot back and forth, the pink knee-high boot like a metronome, keeping the tempo of the conversation.
“Why not?”
“A haircut is one of life’s great pleasures. Why deny myself?”
Ledger nods a few times, seemingly liking that answer. “Then who does it for you?”
“My mom,” I reply easily. “She says it makes her happy.”
The flight attendant returns with another glass. “Here you go, ma’am.”
“Thank you so much, Sterling. This is amazing,” I say to the helpful man. Maybe he’ll use my name now. I’ve told him to call me Aubrey.
“You’re welcome, ma’am.” And no such luck. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”
A Jet Ski? A koala? An omelet? “Chocolate with caramel?” I ask, not seriously expecting a yes. Or for Dev to laugh instantly. Ledger chuckles too.
“Of course,” Sterling says.
I blink, straightening. The attendant disappears and I stare, slack-jawed, at Dev then whisper, “Is he really getting chocolate with caramel?”
Something passes between the guys—there’s a spark in their eyes. Then, Ledger answers, “I told Dev you liked that kind of chocolate. He picked some up for you this morning.”
I am floored by his unexpected thoughtfulness. “But I should be giving you guys a gift.” I sweep out an arm, indicating the plush travel. “For this. For hanging out with me.”
Dev’s lips curve into a sexy grin, the kind a man gives before he leans in and kisses a woman possessively. But then, his smile shifts, turns broader. Friendlier. “Like I said, you’re our friend now too.”
Still, this is above and beyond friendship. “Well, I like it. And don’t think you can escape from my friendship clutches now, or my hairstylist ones. I fully expect you to show up for those cuts on the house,” I say, then swivel my gaze to Ledger. “How did you know I liked that chocolate?”
Ledger glances out the window, then back at me, his expression is sheepish. “I just remembered it from one of Garrett’s parties.”
I smile, a rush of warmth sliding over my skin like last night.
Or maybe…I feel even warmer. “I do like chocolate with caramel. A lot. My favorite chocolate shop in the city is Elodie’s.
I go there far too often. They know my name.
They say Hi, Aubrey when the bell chimes and I go in.
They give me this tray with a couple of my favorite chocolates with caramel and I swear they melt in my mouth. ”
Ledger’s blue eyes sparkle as he holds my gaze. “Sounds delicious.”
“Bet they taste…incredible,” Dev adds, not looking away from me either.
I feel both their eyes on me. That warmth rolls down my chest, heading toward my belly. They’re looking at me like they’re enjoying those images a lot. Like they’re imagining the taste of the chocolate…on my lips.
And I’m picturing…my hands in their hair.
Impulsively, I undo my seatbelt, then scoot next to Ledger, wedging myself by his side in his comfy seat, hip to hip.
The press of his strong body is a little distracting.
So is his scent, like nighttime and the starlit ocean.
But I’m a hairstylist on a mission. I take a fortifying sip of my bubbly, then set the glass in his hand.
He takes it, giving me a quizzical look.
“Just hold it. I have an idea for your hair,” I explain, staring at his dark locks, slicked back and neatly combed. I’m pretty sure there’s just enough length for my plans. My fingers tingle with excitement. I can’t wait to see if this works. “Can I?”
Ledger huffs out a breath, then nods a little unsteadily. “Yes.” It sounds like a grunt.
I set one hand on his left shoulder, angling him near to me. There are only inches between us, but I’m used to being close to people. It’s part of my job.
I run my fingers through the front of his hair, tousling it, and he tenses, drawing a sharp inhale.
“Is this okay?” I ask, concerned.
He doesn’t answer with words. Just a curt nod that’s a clear yes.
I keep going, running my fingers a little more roughly through his locks, mussing them up on top.
Just as I suspected. He does have enough length to give him some height and volume.
With some product I could really do something trendy.
But I can still make a difference with my fingers.
I play with his hair. A minute later, I lean back, appraising his new style.
Ledger meets my gaze with expectant eyes. “How is it?”
I’m motionless for a few seconds as wild ideas flash through my mind. Of Dev telling me to touch Ledger then asking how it is. Then of Ledger demanding I kiss Dev.
Do they like that? Watching a woman be kissed? Seeing a woman get turned on?
I gulp, trying to cover up my sudden breathlessness at touching my travel companion and thinking about him in new ways.
Wait. Make that both of them.
My brain flips faster through those images now, picturing Ledger pulling me all the way onto his lap, then sliding those big hands down my arms. To Dev getting in on the act, coasting a hand over my leg. One man dusting his lips on this side of my neck, the other man kissing the other side of me.
A double kiss. I shudder.
Snap out of it.
Clearly, I have too many besties banging two dudes. Just because it happened to them doesn’t mean it’ll happen to me.
I’m saved by the bell when Sterling arrives holding a gleaming silver tray. Four pieces of mouth-watering chocolate adorn a plate, next to a stack of fresh linen napkins. “From my favorite place,” I say, amazed as I recognize the chocolates.
“Good,” Ledger says.
“Enjoy,” Dev adds.
The craving in me intensifies. I return to my seat, where Sterling places the tray on a side table.
I don’t need two men. I don’t even need one. I have chocolate.
When I pop one into my mouth, I feel both men watching me as I eat it.