RESTRICTED AIRSPACE: A Dark Forced Proximity Romance

His coffee is eighty-two degrees. Not eighty-four. I learned the difference in four hours. He never asked me to.

That's how it starts. Not with a kiss. With a two-degree correction on a Gulfstream at forty thousand feet, and the silence that follows when neither of you mentions it.

Noelle Voss pours coffee for a living. Specifically, she pours it for Atlas Kinkaid—arms dealer, polyglot, the kind of man whose hands don't match his suits. Fifteen thousand a month keeps her brother alive in a Malibu rehab facility. The job keeps her close to cargo she's been told not to examine.

She doesn't read the documents that slide across the floor during turbulence. She doesn't ask about the calls in Russian at 2 AM. She counts sugar packets and exit routes and the seconds his forearm stays pressed against her waist on descent into Dubai.

Three seconds. She counts them fourteen times.

The weather delay in Iceland isn't weather. She knows. He knows she knows.

Fourteen hours. Engine off. Aurora overhead. Two people who've been alone too long, standing in a six-foot-wide galley where his bare feet on the cabin floor mean something neither of them is ready to say.

She's not naive. She saw the schematics. She heard Johannesburg. She chose to stay anyway—and the choosing is the part that keeps her up at night. Not because she regrets it. Because she doesn't.

He never stays anywhere longer than seventy-two hours. She's the first coordinate he's given voluntarily.

Restricted Airspace is a standalone dark romance novella with a happy-for-now ending. 25,000 words. First-person heroine who counts heartbeats at 3 AM because she's too smart to trust him and too far gone to leave.

Forced proximity · morally grey hero · boss/employee · possessive MMC · touch her and die · mile high

This book contains mature content and is intended for readers 18+. Content warnings are listed inside.