“Samuel will take care of it,” Callum said.
“Who’s Samuel?” I asked. We were almost at the stairs of the plane now, and Callum’s strides were long, his tall frame able to walk quickly while making it look like he was strolling. I was too short to match my strides to his, and I hurried to keep up.
He turned to look at me.
He didn’t say anything for a moment, just held my gaze, and a shot of adrenaline zinged through my body. He was just so freakin’ hot. He was freshly shaven, his dark hair perfectly styled with just the right amount of gel. His long legs were encased in a pair of jeans that hugged his ass and he was wearing a plain black t-shirt that wasn’t even tight and yet somehow still showed off just how rock hard his body was. His blue eyes blazed bright against his dark complexion, his jawline strong and defined.
“Don’t be nervous, Adriana,” he said.
“Oh, I’m not nervous.”
“Don’t lie to me, either.”
“I’m not!” I lied.
He shook his head, like he was amused by my protests, then led me up the steps and into the jet.
As soon as we got inside, I couldn’t play it cool anymore. This was a private jet, and it looked nothing like the cramped quarters of the commercial planes I was used to flying in, the kind of planes where you needed to worry about who was sitting next to you and if you were going to have enough room to move your legs.
The inside of this plane looked like a media room of someone’s house. Someone’s very expensive media room in someone’s very expensive house. Huge cream-colored leather chairs were set up in two groups of four, each group gathered around a small work table. In the middle of the plane was a larger table, raised onto a platform. It was set for two with square white plates trimmed with a swirling gold design and sparking silverware. Were we going to be eating on the plane? I wasn’t sure I could eat in front of Callum. My stomach was too nervous. I wondered what kind of food they served on a private jet. Probably fancy things like arugula truffles and caviar omelets.
There was a TV hanging on one wall, with CNBC on the main screen, along with smaller screens that seemed to be hooked up to someone’s laptop, showing different graphs scrolling up and down with red and green lines that appeared to be moving in random patterns.
“Holy crap,” I breathed before I could stop myself.
Callum gave me another amused smile.
“This is insane,” I said, walking over to the table and running my hand over the gleaming wood. I thought of the scuffed up table back at my apartment and realized the table Callum had in his jet was nicer than the one I had there. Forget my apartment, this table was nicer than the one back at my mom’s house in Michigan.
There was an ice bucket sitting in the middle of the table, filled with a deep blue glass bottle of what looked like champagne.
But when Callum pulled it out of the ice and uncapped it, I realized it was sparkling water. Of course. I should have known. Water with lemon -- Callum’s drink of choice.
He poured us each a glass of fizzing water, then reached into a tiny bowl filled with sliced lemons. He dropped one into his glass and then picked up another. He looked at me, his eyebrows questioning. I nodded slightly and he dropped the lemon into my water, a look of approval coming over his face.
I felt myself flush with pleasure that I’d done something to please him.
He raised his glass. “To an amazing weekend,” he said.
“To an amazing weekend,” I said, clinking my glass against his.
I took a sip, surprised to find that I was starting to like the sour taste of lemon. But from now on, I knew the scent would remind me of Callum, of kissing him, of what we’d done the other night at the club.
My flush deepened.
“I told you not to be nervous,” Callum said.
“I’m not…” I started, but he cut me off.
He cupped my chin in his hand and grazed my cheek with the pad of his thumb. “You’re blushing, Adriana” he said. “I can see it.”
I couldn’t speak. I was paralyzed, so I just nodded.
He took another step toward me, put his other hand on the other side of my face, then pushed even closer so that his chest was right against mine.
“Hi,” he said, and grinned.
“Hi,” I said, letting out the breath I was holding.
“Relax,” he said, and then he leaned down and angled his mouth over mine and kissed me. He tasted familiar, and I felt myself instantly relax, my body melting into a puddle against his. I parted my lips slightly, wanting more, wanting him to take me with his tongue, but he pulled back. “Everything’s fine,” he said softly. “We’re not going to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, okay?”