“You okay, Lemon?” Callum’s deep voice demanded.
“Yes,” I said. “Be out in a minute.”
“Who was that?” my mom wanted to know.
“Oh, I’m just at Starbucks,” I said. “Someone wants to use the outlet for their laptop.”
“Oh! Okay,” my mom said. “Call back so we can talk about Ciara’s wedding.”
“Okay,” I said, having totally forgotten about my sister Ciara getting married. She was way too young to get married, in my opinion, but there was nothing I could say or do.
“Kisses!” my mom shrieked and then the line went dead.
I smoothed my hair one more time and opened the bathroom door.
Callum was standing there, his frame tall and commanding. “I just got word from the pilot that we’ll be taking off soon.”
“Okay.” My stomach was already a mess, and I wondered what the take off was going to do to me. I was a nervous flyer on the best day, and I’d never been in a private jet before, never mind a private jet with one of the most gorgeous men on the planet.
“Who were you talking to?”
“No one.”
“I heard you on the phone.”
“It was my mom. It wasn’t important.”
“You lied to her.”
“What?”
“You lied to her about where you were.” His blue eyes narrowed at me, the color darkening like a storm on a summer’s day.
“Yes,” I admitted.
“Why?”
“Because she doesn’t need to know every detail of my life.”
He tilted his head, considering this. I realized how narrow the hallway we were standing in was, how close he was to me. Run. The word flashed like a neon sign, imprinting itself on my brain. I wasn’t scared or upset – but I had a weird premonition, a feeling I was about to go tumbling into something with Callum I wasn’t sure I could handle. Once we were in the air, there would be nothing I could do to stop it. If I left now, at least I would have a chance.
“Are you in the habit of lying to people?” Callum asked.
“What?”
“You heard me. Do you regularly hide things about your life when from the people close to you?” His tone wasn’t mad or accusing. He was asking like he was curious, like he wanted to know more about me. But there was something else – something under the surface, almost like he was collecting information about me and stowing it away, the way you would do when you were trying to make a decision about something.
I thought about it. “No,” I said. “But my sex life is no one’s business but my own.” The words felt strange coming out of my mouth. Sex life. I had a sex life now. I’d never had a real sex life before. I wasn’t a virgin – I’d had sex with two guys in college, one I was dating for a few months, the other I’d dated for a year. Both of the experiences had been good – if not quite earth-shattering--, at least compared to the horror stories I’d heard from my friends.
Callum nodded, seemingly satisfied with this answer.
He opened his mouth like he was going to say something else, but the pilot’s voice came over the loudspeaker.
“Passengers, this is Flight AC112, headed for Tampa, Florida, arriving at approximately 1:13 pm. Please take your seats and buckle up for takeoff.”
We found our seats, the two of us sitting next to each other in the middle of the plane, my body sinking back into the luxurious leather. I wanted more than anything to take an Ativan, which is what I’d done to get through the flight I’d taken from Michigan to New York, but I didn’t have any after Callum had crushed my pills at the bar the other night.
The jet’s engines roared to life, and a moment later the plane began ascending into the air.
I gripped the armrests hard, taking slow breaths in an effort to calm myself.
“Nervous, Lemon?” Callum’s voice was in my ear, soft and teasing, his breath tickling my neck. He put his hand on my thigh, the way he’d done at the club, and I felt myself tense, heat rushing through my body, the adrenaline from the take off mixing with the intoxicating feeling of his hands on my body.
“No,” I lied.
“You’re lying again.” He took his hand off my thigh and gently took my hand from the armrest and put it in his own. “Try to hurt me.”
“What?” I asked.
“Squeeze my hand as tight as you can. Try to hurt me.”
“What? That’s insane, it’s –”
“Do it.” His voice was gruff, commanding, the same voice he’d used on me at the club, and I shivered, then did as he said, squeezing his hand as hard as I could.
“Oh, come on, Lemon,” he said, “you can do better than that.”