Must Be Crazy: (Melissa and Jackson) (A Jetty Beach Romance Book 2) by Claire Kingsley Page A

at denying myself. But this is different. She’s different. I don’t want to move too fast and break the spell.
    “Your flight is ready to board, Mr. Bennett.”
    I glance up at the waiter. “Thank you.” I look back at Melissa. “Ready?”
    We get right on the plane and settle into our seats, first class, first row. I never sit anywhere else. I don’t like looking at the back of some asshole’s head.
    Melissa fastens her seatbelt and tucks her legs up. “I’ve never flown first class before.”
    I’ve never not flown first class. I don’t even know what the back of a plane looks like. “If you have to fly commercial, it’s the only way to go.”
    “Have to fly commercial?” she asks. “How else do you fly?”
    “I charter a private plane more often than not,” I say. “I don’t own one. I’ve never bothered. Seems like too much hassle, so I charter when I need one. But for this little adventure, commercial seemed like the way to go. It adds to the spontaneity; don’t you think?”
    Her eyebrows draw together and her mouth hangs open. I can’t wait to devour that sweet mouth. But not yet. Once I start, I won’t be able to stop.
    “You live a very strange life, Jackson Bennett,” she says.
    “Do I?”
    We sit while the rest of the passengers get on and the plane taxis to the runway. I fire off a tweet and send a few emails. Melissa watches out the window while we take off. When we get to cruising altitude, the flight attendant brings us drinks. Melissa tosses back her whiskey pretty fast. I order her another.
    “Are you nervous on planes?” I ask. The flight took off without much turbulence, and so far everything has been smooth.
    “No, not really,” she says. “Today has just been such a whirlwind.”
    She sits leaning toward the window, resting her elbow on the opposite arm rest. Her drink is perched on her knee. Her hands are too far away for me to touch, but her feet… She let her sandals fall to the floor, and her feet are tucked up on the seat next to me.
    I can’t keep the grin off my face as I put my hand on her foot. I don’t want to startle her, but she meets my eyes and laughs a little. Her toenails are painted bright green. I wrap my fingers around her foot and slide my hand toward her ankle. She shifts in her seat, stretching out her legs to put her feet in my lap. I rub my thumb around the ball of her ankle and she sucks in a quick breath.
    This is going to be a long flight.
    It’s ridiculous how turned on I am, just by her feet. I’m not necessarily a foot guy. Everyone has their thing, and feet aren’t mine—although I do love how a hot woman looks in a sexy pair of shoes. Apparently I have a Melissa thing, because I want every bit of her. I clasp her foot with both hands and dig my thumbs into the arch, rubbing back and forth. Her eyelids flutter, and a slow smile crosses her face. I already love making her feel good. I want to see more of that face, feel that body relax against mine.
    The flight goes on and we have more drinks. I find excuses to touch her—always her hands, her feet, or her arms. Nothing else. I’m saving the rest for later, and just knowing it’s coming has me dying for the flight to be over. After a while, she leans closer to me and I play with her hand again, running my fingers up and down, tracing the lines on her palm. Her breathing is slow and even, and her head slips down to my shoulder. I rest my cheek on her head. I can’t tell if she’s asleep or just relaxed, but I let her be, still playing with her fingers and hand.
    I drift off—which is weird, because I never sleep on planes. When the flight is over, we disembark—no need for baggage claim—and head outside. The sky is dark and headlights flash. I lead her to the car that’s already waiting for us, and get in after her.
    Melissa stares out the window as we drive to the villa. Neither of us say much on the way. We’re both tired from traveling, and I’m a little buzzed from all