Page 17 of Pillow Talk

Just as she slowly starts to open her mouth to allow me access to take us to the nest level, I realize we’ve stopped moving.

She pulls away, and my hands drop into my lap. My mind reels from what just happened.

Our gazes remain locked before she licks her lips and looks away.

The click of her seatbelt breaks my trance. “I guess it’s me who should be thanking you.” I glance at her to see how she’s feeling after that mind-blowing kiss.

I’m shocked to see that other than heavy breathing, she seems perfectly fine. Surely, this isn’t one sided. She kissed me, not the other way around. Then it dawns on me we landed. She was merely distracting me.

“How did you know?” I’m curious.

“It worked, didn’t it?” she counters.

“Do you always answer a question with a question?” I tease but really hope she answers.

“My old roommate had panic attacks,” she offers in explanation.

“Guy or girl?” It’s out before I can stop myself. “Sorry that was intrusive.”

“You’re right; it was, but to answer your question, girl. So, I’m familiar with what one looks like and how to diffuse it,” she adds.

“You kissed your roommate like that?” Hot! But surely, that’s not what she meant.

“What? Ewe, no! No way! I just—” She’s exasperated, and once again I’m turned, this time at the thought of her college shenanigans.

“Because if you did, it’s cool, hot even. No judgment here,” I laugh, earning me a slap on the arm.

“Let’s go Peter Pan,” she smirks.

“Ouch.” My hand flies to my heart. “I’m wounded.”

She smiles, and it’s a genuine one, one that could break hearts.

We collect our things, and I send Noah a quick text to let him know that we’ve landed.

I need to get to the apartment and take a cold shower. Or two.