Chapter 133

Angela POV

I was acutely aware of Thomas discreetly retreating to the front of the cabin. My cheeks burned with indignation and something else I refused to acknowledge.

Before I could respond, Sean's hand shot out, catching my wrist. In one fluid motion, he placed a small white pill on my tongue and pulled me toward him. His lips covered mine, his tongue sweeping into my mouth to reclaim the pill.

"Mmph-you're insane!" I struggled against him, but his grip remained firm.

"Shh," he murmured against my lips. "This way none of the medicine is wasted."

I felt the exact moment he recovered the pill, his tongue skillfully retrieving it before he pulled away and swallowed. The entire episode lasted seconds, but it left me breathless and furious.

Sean smirked, satisfaction evident in his expression.

I turned away sharply, returning to my seat without another word.

My lips still tingled from Sean's unexpected kiss-that familiar sensation I'd spent five years trying to forget.

Settling into the plush leather seat, I pretended to close my eyes for rest, though sleep was the furthest thing from my mind.

Through my lashes, I could see Sean watching me, satisfaction evident in the slight curve of his lips. Even now, after everything, he could read me too well. He knew exactly how that kiss had affected me, how my body had instinctively responded to his touch despite my mind's protests.

I touched my lips unconsciously, then caught myself and quickly dropped my hand. The taste of him lingered-a ghost from my past that refused to be exorcised. I focused on my breathing, trying to calm the rapid beating of my heart while cursing my own weakness.

Five years should have been enough to forget. Five years of building a new life, of raising our children alone, of carefully constructing walls around my heart. Yet one impulsive moment on his private jet, and those walls were already developing cracks.

"You should get some rest," Sean's voice broke through my thoughts. "It's still a few hours to Vermont."

I kept my eyes closed, refusing to acknowledge him. If he thought that little performance had changed anything between us, he was sorely mistaken.

The plane suddenly lurched, a violent movement that made my eyes snap open. The seatbelt sign illuminated with an urgent ping as the aircraft began to shake.

Only then did I realize I hadn't fastened my seatbelt after returning to my seat.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the pilot's voice came through the speaker, strain evident in his professional tone, "we're experiencing some unexpected turbulence. Please return to your seats and ensure your seatbelts are securely fastened."

Before I could reach for the belt, another violent shake sent the plane dropping. I gasped, my hands gripping the armrests as I felt myself lifting from the seat. In that moment of weightlessness and panic, Sean's arm shot out, pulling me against him with surprising strength.

"Hold on," he commanded, his voice low and steady in my ear as he secured me firmly against his side.

The plane continued to shake violently, my body pressed tightly against Sean's. I could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the tension in his muscles as he held me. Despite everything, he still made me feel safe.

"Is this normal?" I asked, unable to keep the tremor from my voice.

"It's just air turbulence," Sean replied, his breath warm against my temple. "Nothing the plane can't handle. Trust me."

I suddenly remembered that Sean had obtained his pilot's license years ago-one of his many hobbies that he'd pursued with characteristic intensity. He understood aircraft better than most passengers.

The violent shaking continued, and I found myself instinctively pressing closer to him, seeking the security his body offered. His arm tightened around me protectively, and I could feel his heart racing beneath my palm.

"I've got you," he murmured, and despite everything between us, I believed him.

When the turbulence finally subsided, the pilot's voice returned, apologizing for the unexpected rough air. As the seatbelt sign dimmed, I immediately pulled away from Sean's embrace, flustered by our proximity.

It was only then that I noticed the disaster. During the turbulence, a glass of water that had been resting on my tray table had completely overturned, soaking the front of my silk dress. The pale blue fabric now clung to my skin, revealing far more than I'd ever intended in Sean's presence.

I looked up to find his eyes fixed on me, or more specifically, on the now-transparent fabric adhering to my curves. His gaze was dark and heated, traveling slowly across my body with undisguised appreciation.

"Stop staring," I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest.

His eyes finally lifted to meet mine, a dangerous intensity in their emerald depths. "Your dress is wet," he stated, voice rougher than before.

"I'm aware," I replied icily. "I need to change."

I grabbed my handbag and stood, painfully conscious of how the wet silk outlined my body as I moved toward the lavatory. Sean's eyes tracked me the entire way, his gaze almost tangible on my skin.

Once inside the small bathroom, I locked the door and leaned against it, exhaling shakily. The woman in the mirror looked flushed, with bright eyes and parted lips-betraying a response I couldn't control. I splashed cold water on my face, trying to calm the heat in my cheeks and the thundering of my pulse.

This was ridiculous. I'd been divorced from Sean for five years. I'd built a successful life without him. I was a mother, a businesswoman, a complete person in my own right. So why did his touch still affect me this way?

I peeled off the wet dress, grateful I'd packed a spare blouse in my handbag. Just as I was buttoning up the fresh top, I heard the door handle turn. Thinking it might be the flight attendant checking on me, I turned-only to find Sean filling the doorway, his tall frame blocking any escape.

"What are you doing?" I gasped, instinctively pulling the edges of my partially buttoned blouse together.