Free Flaming Desire - Part 2 (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) by Helen Grey Page A

and then gestured for us to take the first four seats of the plane, two on one side of the aisle, the other two on the other. I felt bad for the first-class passengers who had given up their front row seats, but knew that they would be compensated, most likely with a free voucher to fly anywhere within the domestic United States within the next year. That's usually how it worked anyway.
    We stowed our backpacks in the overhead bins, and then I glanced at Matt. “Do you mind if I take the window seat?”
    He shook his head. “Not at all. The flight won't take long anyway. Maybe a couple of hours.”
    “Thanks,” I said. “You can have the window seat on the way back.”
    He nodded and we settled in. We watched as other passengers boarded, many of them nodding and smiling at us as they passed, while a couple stopped to briefly stop and thank us. One older gentleman shook Matt’s hand. It was nice, and I can't deny that I gained a sense of pride and gratitude for the recognition.
    Eventually, everyone was loaded, the door closed, and the engines started up. I wasn't too thrilled with flying, but as it was the quickest way to get from point A to point B, I knew that it had to be done. Nevertheless, by the time the plane started taxying toward the runway, I automatically placed both my hands on the armrest, my fingers cupping the ends, nervous.
    “Don't tell me you're afraid of flying?”
    I looked up at Matt to find him gazing down at me with a look of amusement. I nodded.
    “You rush into burning buildings, don't blink at the sight of blood and trauma, and you're afraid of flying?”
    I shrugged. “What can I say? It's not my favorite mode of travel.”
    He laughed, a low, rumbling laugh in his throat that made my pussy tingle with desire. Stop it! He must think I was nuts. I was about to reply when the plane turned onto the runway and then the engines accelerated. The plane picked up speed. My grip on the armrest tightened still more and I stared straight ahead, not looking out the window as the tarmac raced past below us. I tried to ignore, from out of the corner of my eye, the buildings of the airport passing more quickly with every second. What I wanted to do was grab onto Matt’s hand or arm, but that just wouldn’t do. Dammit!
    Then, just when I thought that the plane had picked up enough speed to take off, I felt Matt's right hand settle over my left, now gripping the armrest tightly. I felt an immediate sense of security, safety and wordless support. I didn’t glance at him, but concentrated on the feel of the plane bouncing gently under my ass. I wasn't panicked or anything, just anxious. Still, his hand on mine brought a sense of comfort.
    I think the worst parts of flying for me were taking off and landing. I didn't like the sensation I got when a place suddenly left terra firma and became airborne, or when the plane headed down for a landing. More than that, I hated turbulence. At that instant, the wheels left the ground, the nose tilted upward, and I was pressed into the back of my seat.
    This time, I did look out the window, especially when the plane banked. That’s why I usually asked for a window seat. Doing so, I could focus my gaze on something on the ground, helping me to maintain my equilibrium. If I didn't do that, I would feel dizzy and unbalanced. I didn't like the sensation one iota.
    It was just a couple of minutes before the plane quit climbing and obtained altitude. The wings leveled off. Only then did I relax and glance at Matt with a self-conscious smile. “There, I feel better now,” I said. I felt a surge of disappointment when he removed his hand from mine.
    I had never flown this specific route, but I knew that our flight path would naturally take us along the eastern part of the Rockies and the Front Range of Colorado, and then up into Montana. I had a feeling that we would have to deal with a little bit of turbulence, but hopefully, not much. In an effort to distract myself, I