PREVIEW

... one into midair wasn’t psychotic behavior. His hand settled on my waist too long as I strapped in, his gloved fingers brushing my thigh when he reached across me for the buckle. Casual, not casual.

I hated the way I let myself lean just a little closer when the engine roared to life.

The flight was short but terrifyingly beautiful. The sun was beginning to dip, casting the clouds in honeyed gold. My thoughts spun with it—faster and louder than the blades above.

Then we de ...

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