Nerves

Tommaso

On shaky legs, I stepped off the plane back in London. Killian’s new captain, Amelia, was good, but I’d never get used to that.

“Need a few hours to refuel,” Amelia said. “Could be off as early as noon?”

I laughed. “Why don’t we call it three? I need a second to catch my breath, and we need to pack up.”

Paige squeezed my hand. “Three sounds good.”

I smiled down at her, and we piled into yet another hired car to take us back to the hotel. She sat near me on the bench seat, just close enough that I couldn’t help thinking about the way she attached herself to me in the bed in Paris, the undulating rhythm of her hips against me as she slept. Anything I imagined after I caught her that night in Philly had been a pale imitation of the real thing. I’d been playing those high whimpers of hers, the soft gasp of my name, and the way she grabbed tighter, every day since.

And I might have to keep doing just that for the rest of my days. Despite the fact that she’d kissed me, she’d frozen