Aria's POV
The flight attendant appeared with drinks—whiskey for Damian, wine for me. I accepted the glass gratefully and took a long sip, letting the warmth spread through my chest.
For a while, we didn't talk. Just sat there in comfortable silence, the hum of the engines the only sound.
Then Damian stood up and crossed to my side of the cabin. He settled into the seat next to me, close enough that our thighs pressed together.
"You're tense," he said quietly.
"I'm fine."
"Liar." His hand slid up my thigh, slow and deliberate, and heat sparked under my skin wherever he touched. My breath caught. Between my thighs, something low and greedy clenched.
"Damian—"
"We have a three-hour flight ahead of us." His voice dropped, low and rough in a way that set me on fire. "
