Page 21 of The Flight Risk

Desire.

“You have no idea how intimidating.”

Okay, it is officially getting stifling hot in this closet. The helmet isn’t helping. I attempt to pull the helmet off but I don’t know if it’s because of my unruly hair or if my head is larger than I thought, the helmet is not coming off. “Damn it.” Panic sets in. I cannot end up in the emergency room and try to explain this to a doctor (who, my luck, would look like George Clooney in E.R., hell George Clooney in general.) That would be two insanely hot men I embarrassed myself in front of in less than twenty-four hours. A new record for me.

“Tess, calm down. Let me help.” Oakley steps closer. He grabs the helmet from each side of my head and it budges the slightest bit, yet not enough to slide it off with ease. Shit.

Tears well up. “Oakley, do you have an abnormally small head beneath those gorgeous locks of yours? How is this not coming off my head?”

“Tess, breathe.” His fingers graze the sides of my jaw, sending tingles down my body. His strong fingers pry open the chin straps and gently lift it over my head. I exhale. Relieved that I won’t have to face a hypothetical George Clooney look-a-like doctor and have this stupid piece of fiberglass sawed off my head.

“Thank god.” I attempt to fix my hair that is probably sticking up on all ends. “I don’t understand how that happened.”

“You might just have an abnormally big head.” Oakley reaches over my so-called “big head” to place the helmet back in its rightful place–on a shelf. A smirk appears and his adorable dimples make an appearance as well. He’s noticeably holding back a laugh. My jaw drops. Did Adam Oakley just make a joke?

I push against his chest. “Are you calling me bigheaded? How dare you.” Mistake number one. Thinking I can touch Oakley’s chest without a visceral response from my core. I have the urge to run my hands all along the beautiful ridges that lay underneath the unnecessary piece of thin cloth that barely passes as a shirt.

Unexpectedly, his hand grabs mine and I can feel his pulse quicken. His jaw tightens almost as if he is fighting back words he desperately wants to release. The air thickens between us more than it ever has before. I find myself backed against the frame of the door. Oakley looms over me with one hand still covering mine and the other pressed against the white molding above my head.

Mistake number two. Moving in with a man who I have been very attracted to for a year and a half and thinking I can keep my feelings at bay. I don’t know how much longer I can last. Something’s gotta give.

Oakley’s forehead presses against mine. His eyes are clenched shut and he’s never looked so distressed. It’s clear that I’m the one causing said distress.

I whisper, “Um, I’ll just go…”

“Tess,” he whispers back. And then silence again. I’m finding it hard to breathe. What is happening?

“Fuck it,” Oakley says right before he grabs the sides of my face and crashes his lips into mine.

Mistake number three. Letting Adam Oakley kiss me.

I immediately wrap my arms around his neck and snatch onto his hair, deepening the kiss. His hands are wild, and large, and rough, and perfect, caressing me all up and down my body. He presses his hard Adonis-like body against my pliant one, making us a perfect fit. Like our bodies were meant to be up against each other, puzzle pieces morphing to fit in any circumstance. His tongue glides into my mouth. Exploring. Savoring. Dominating. His hands return to my jaw and he is the first one to break the kiss. I let out a small whimper, kind of pissed that he stopped so soon.

He leans in and whispers, “You have no idea what I want to do to you right now.”

“Show me,” I respond breathlessly.

His lips find mine again and we re-enter this haze we created. A haze I never want to clear. I tip-toe to inch closer to him so he doesn’t have to crouch down so much to reach me. He smiles, clocking my effort, and traces the sides of my torso, making my breath hitch. His giant hands find my ass and he lifts me with ease.

“Aunt Tess.” Before I can even process what is happening, I hear, “Aunt Tess, are you home?” My eyes widen and I stop Oakley from lifting up my shirt. “Put me down,” I say under my breath. Shit. Lottie is home.

Oakley looks confused, clearly not registering that Lottie is about to turn the corner into her bedroom and witness evidence of a full-on makeout session. I pull down my shirt and readjust my hair as best as I can without a mirror to guide me in the mission.

“Aunt Tess. What are we having for din…ner?”

Lottie drops her backpack and clarinet case and crosses her arms. Her eyebrows shoot so far up her forehead I am convinced they will stay like that permanently. She is assessing the two adults, who probably look like teenagers themselves caught breaking the rules. Add this to the list of things she will talk to her therapist about.

In the corner of my eye, I can see Oakley’s chest heaving and he’s leaning against the wall with his forearm.

“Lottie!” My voice gets so high I have to clear it right away. Smooth, Tess. Smooth. “Um, I thought you were at band practice.”

Lottie smirks. “I was at band practice…it ended a little early and I got a ride from Sophie.” She wags a finger back and forth between me and Oakley. “What is, um…going on here?” Then she leans against the doorway with a shit-eating grin on her face.

“Nothing!” Oakley and I say in unison. Clearly confirming that something in fact did happen between us.

“Okay then, I will see you both downstairs.” She disappears back into the hallway. We both exhale out of relief. She let us off easy.

Just when I thought we got off unscathed by tormenting comments from a snarky teenager, Lottie’s head pops into view again. “Oh and Adam, you have a little something.” She gestures to her lips before she disappears into the hallway again, giggling.