Page 2 of What the Smut?

“Well, that was super gross,” I say as Emily wipes the snot off her screen. “Okay then, you need to get back to bed and rest, patient zero.”

“And you need to switch your phone to airplane mode,” she reminds me.

“On it! Love you, thunder snatch.”

“Love you too, cunt nugget.” She blows me a fake kiss before ending the call. I switch my phone to airplane mode and stick it into the seat pocket in front of me.

Feeling a little bit better after talking to my best friend since birth, I drink the rest of the wine and actually start to relax slightly.

I realize that no one is standing in the aisle anymore, and when I lean over to look toward the back, it seems like everyone is in their seat.

Great! We’re done boarding and the seat next to me is still empty.

The thought has barely registered when a man enters the cabin. My jaw drops. Literally. I’m pretty sure my tongue is hanging out too. The man looks like he just walked out of one of my books—he’s so big the plane seems smaller now. And I don’t just mean big in a physical way, though his body is, in fact, massive. His presence is huge too.

He is the kind of guy who dominates a room full of men. A true alpha with big dick energy for days.

My wet dream hunk of meat makes his way down the aisle like he couldn’t care less about holding up the boarding process. He stops when he comes to my row, lifting his matte black carry-on and stowing it in the overhead compartment.

I keep staring at him like the weirdo I am while he takes off his dark-gray suit jacket, leaving him in a black button-up that stretches over every muscle, in all the right places. He folds his jacket and places it with his bag before closing the storage bin.

Then it finally dawns on me that he is about to sit next to me. “Holy fuck!” I blurt out, instantly panicking.

“Excuse me?” Mr. Handsome Pants asks, his voice just as sexy as the rest of him.

“I meant . . . holy fuck, I left my favorite bra at home.” I cringe. Seriously? I’m an author, creator of fictional universes. I know all the words, and that’s what my brain comes up with?

“Okay, thank you for sharing,” he muses, taking his seat and buckling up.

If punching myself in the face wouldn’t look so ridiculous, I would totally do it right now.

When the flight attendant comes over to take my wineglass and untouched nut assortment, I give her a sugar-sweet smile. “Could you do me a favor and bring me another glass of wine as soon as you can?”

“Of course,” she assures me before walking away.

The plane starts moving soon after, and a slight panic settles in my gut. Takeoff and landing are the worst parts about flying. As we accelerate rapidly, my body is pushed back into the seat. Gripping the armrests like my life depends on it, I close my eyes and try to think about anything besides the plane crashing. I suck in a ragged breath through my nose, noticing how nice the man’s cologne smells.

“I bet that’s some expensive stuff.” Shit. I’ve done it again.

Opening one of my eyes, I peek over at him, just to find his striking green gaze trained on me.

“Are you talking to anyone in particular or just yourself?” he questions, his tone serious, with a hint of concern.

“Sorry, I have a hard time keeping my thoughts to myself sometimes.” More like all the time, but he doesn’t need to know that. “I’m going to go back to not dying now.”

“Sounds like a solid plan,” he replies, turning his head away from me.

I turn my whole body away from him, looking out the window. The clouds I see through it make me realize we are already pretty high up, and that short conversation distracted me from panicking.

A few minutes later, the flight attendant brings me my second glass of wine and takes more orders from the passengers around me.

By the time I’m done with my second glass, lunch is being served. Surprisingly, that goes off without a hitch. The salmon is cooked perfectly, and the fancy sides are just as delicious. The pistachio cream with fresh raspberries for dessert is the absolute cherry on top. Or raspberry on top, I suppose.

When the trays are cleared, I order one more drink, telling myself that three is still an acceptable number. Now that I’m not busy with eating or drinking, I become more aware of the man beside me again.

His shoulders are so broad, he easily fills out the extra-wide first-class seat. I actually don’t think he would fit in economy class. His eyes are closed, so I take the opportunity to study his handsome face. He has strong features, a sharp jawline, sensual lips, and a straight nose. Freshly shaved, with his black hair neatly styled. He could be on his way to a photo shoot.

After getting my fill of ogling his face, I take in his large chest and muscular arms. He must be strong. I bet it would be nothing to him to pick me up and throw me on a bed. Images of him and me tangled up in my pink sheets enter my mind, and I quickly banish those indecent thoughts to the back of my head.