The Mile‑High Club wasn’t the sin that d*mned me…
Falling for the devil was.
At 30,000 feet, I’m seconds from unraveling.
My pulse is chaos. My chest locks up.
Then he appears. The silver-haired fox. Eyes like winter storms.
“Be a good girl and breathe for me,”he orders.
Low. Dangerous. Surprisingly effective.
He takes me to a private room.
Rewards my obedience with pleasure so vicious I forget my name.
Then vanishes—without giving his.
