Original subtitles

This woman is definitely a killer on the run, but I never expected her to be this

irresistible. Her eyes, her lips, those perfect curves.

I'm a plainclothes cop, but all I want is for her to take me hard.

I want to kiss those sexy lips.

I want her strong hand around my throat. I want her to explore every inch of me.

I want her to fuck me hard, to claim me completely.

The second I step onto the plane, I spot this dangerous woman, slender calves,

full breasts, sensual lips, eyes sharp as a hawk's, dangerous, mysterious.

I'm here on a secret mission, catch a killer hiding somewhere on this flight,

and she's sitting right beside me.

her long hair spills over her shoulders as she yawns she's beautiful not in the

usual way she's the kind of beautiful that sends a chill down your spine

mesmerizing and dangerous but when i turn back our eyes meet she hasn't taken

her eyes off me once i stand pretending i need to check the back rows her leg

slowly stretches into the aisle just to block my path i look down at her She

looks up at me. Her eyes don't linger on my face. They lock onto my chest, right

where I've hidden my badge.

My blood turns ice cold.

Move. She rises to her feet. She's taller than I expected. I have to tilt

my head up slightly, and she uses that angle to step closer.

Relax, officer.

Two words, soft as air, but they hit me in the chest like a bullet.

Her sexy, magnetic voice echoes in my head. I know I should focus on my

mission, but first I need to figure out if I'm into women. That voice makes it

impossible to think. Before I know it, I feel myself getting wet. I freeze, my

hand instinctively moving toward my waist.

But she has already stepped back and returned to her seat as if nothing

happened. She knew all along. How did she spot me before I can figure it out?

Sweetheart, are you trying to flirt with me?

I have to find out who this woman is. I deliberately stand up as if I'm going to

get some water. The second I take a step, a hand closes around my wrist. The

grip isn't hard, it's just impossibly precise.

The plane gives a small jolt. I lose my balance.

In that moment, every sensation sharpens. She smells like cedar, dry,

cool, crisp, like a midnight pine forest after fresh snow. Her arm wraps around

my back, holding me completely in place.

And the hand around my wrist is far too steady for an ordinary person.

I spent three years teaching hand-to-hand combat. I know that kind of

grip. She's had serious training.

I shove her away and retreat to my window seat, my breathing still uneven.

But I saw it. The moment she let me go, the hem of her jacket shifted. A black

pistol grip, a flash of metal.

How the hell did she get a gun past airport security?

I stare too long.

I'm trapped.

The seat presses into my back. The window chills my arm, and her face is so

close. I can see the curve of every lash.

She doesn't explain the gun. She simply...

Seen enough, officer?

Want something more exciting?

I don't answer her question. I choose to be more direct.

What's your name?

What's in your carry-on?

Where are you headed?

Back at the precinct, this kind of rapid-fire questioning usually gets

suspects talking before they even realize it.

But she doesn't say a word. Officer Lucy, Criminal Investigations Unit 2,

Detective Third Grade.

You earned a second-class departmental commendation last year. My back is

instantly drenched in cold sweat. You drink black coffee?

Your firearms rating is an A, but you only got a B-plus in close quarters

combat.

That's when I realize I'm not investigating her. She's the one in

control.

Who the hell are you? She doesn't answer.

She moves without hesitation, tightening her arm around me just enough to hold me

steady, and my palm lands right on her chest. Her heartbeat is pounding, one

beat.

Even after the turbulence stops, her hand is still at my waist, warmth

seeping through my shirt. My fingers are still pressed over her heart, feeling

its slow, steady rhythm, nothing like mine.

I should move. My mind is screaming at me to get up, but my body doesn't

listen, and she doesn't let go. We stay pressed together, close enough for me to

feel each rise and fall of her chest when she breathes. What else do you want

to do?

It takes every ounce of willpower I have to push myself out of her arms. The

second I sit upright. I make a decision. I can't let her keep calling the shots.

I need to contact my team and verify her identity.

Now, my fingers barely touch my phone. Through the thin fabric of my shirt, her

fingers brush over my ribs, the dip of my waist, then stop precisely above the

pocket holding my phone. My breathing turns ragged, not from fear, from that

lethal touch like a snake slithering up my side all the way to the base of my

ear. What, feeling guilty?

Afraid I'll find something?

She doesn't answer. She simply pinches my phone from my pocket with two

fingers. Then she holds it up.

Give it back.

Come take it. I know she's provoking me, but I go for it anyway. She hides the

phone behind her back, and all my weight lands on top of her.

I'm practically holding her as I try to get my phone back.

Her breath warms my collarbone. Slow, calm, unhurried. Then I realize the

position we're in. My face is directly above hers. If I lower my head, I

could... Lucy, are you trying to get your phone back? Or kiss me?

I can answer.

Footsteps sound in the aisle. A flight attendant pushes a cart toward us. Her

eyes pause on us for one second. You two are together, right?

There's a private or two-seat row in the back. Would you like to move?

No, we're not... That'd be great. She's with me.

I open my mouth, but the word no gets stuck in my throat, and I can't let an

armed woman with an unknown identity out of my sight.

So I say nothing. The flight attendant smiles and leads us to the back.

When I sit down, I press myself toward the window. Then she bends down. She

could have clicked it in immediately, but she doesn't. Her fingertips graze

the fabric at my side.

Her knuckles brush my hip bone. Every touch is light. Every touch is slow. So

slow it feels like she's stretching the moment on purpose. Until I can barely

stand it. Click.

The buckle locks.

But she doesn't pull away.

Her fingertips remain on the belt, less than an inch from my waist.

Don't push your luck. Then look me in the eye and tell me you mean it.

I want to look away, but something in her eyes keeps me hooked. Just like her,

beautiful and dangerous. Like she knows what I'm thinking better than I do. I

look away first.

From now on, you're mine.

Do as I say.

I'm not yours.

Her thumb and forefinger hold me just firmly enough that I can't turn away.

Then she leans down. I see her thick lashes curving slightly downward.

I see the tiny beauty mark near the corner of her mouth. Something I never

noticed from across the seat. She's going to kiss me.

the second that thought hits my hand grabs her collar but she stops her thumb

presses against my lower lip slowly stroking from left to right it isn't a

kiss but it feels even more intense i want her lips i want to know what her

tongue tastes like someone passes by no one looks twice because everyone assumes

we're already kissing only i know she's still holding herself one inch away

cruelly refusing to give me what i want You're holding on to me. I freeze.

You've been holding on to me this whole time. A wave of embarrassment and

irritation hits me. I let go and jerk my hand back.

But she's faster.

Her shoulder bone presses into my palm beneath the softness of her body. Her

warmth seeps into my skin.

Let me... Don't move.

She doesn't pull back. She doesn't press closer either. She stays right there.

Our lips almost touching. Our breaths tangled together.

Officer, are you falling for me?

Practically run from that seat. The restroom door slams shut behind me, and

I lock it. The woman in the mirror barely looks like me. My lips are red,

my ears are burning, and even my neck is flushed. I turn on the faucet and run

icy water over the inside of my wrists.

The cold burrows through my skin and into my veins.

Get it together.

You're a cop.

she's a suspect then the lock turns i back up until my waist hits the edge of

the sink there's nowhere left to run what do you want from me she doesn't

answer she only steps closer both hands braced on the counter at either side of

my body her arms forming a cage i can't escape she doesn't touch me but her body

heat fills the cramped space everything back there was an act so don't The

mirror is freezing. Her fingertips are burning hot. Her other index finger

touches my lips just once, like she's testing my last line of defense.

Let go.

My voice is steady enough, but my eyes betray me. They slide down to her lips.

She notices there's no amusement in her gaze anymore. That calm, teasing, in

-control smile is gone.

You really like my lips, don't you?

I don't answer.

Are you afraid I'm dangerous?

Or are you afraid you really do like me?

A sharp knock suddenly sounds outside the door. The flight attendant calls

through the door, telling us to come out quickly.

She says nothing. One hand presses firmly against my lower back, while the

other braces against the counter. The noise is way too suggestive. The door

opens a crack.

The flight attendant freezes for a second, her face turning bright red.

The coast is clear. I break free, immediately, catch Lila's wrist, and pin

her against the wall. This time, I'm searching her.

My hands move from her shoulders to her waist, tracing the edge of her leather

jacket. Her body heat burns through the thin fabric into my palm, making my

fingertips shake.

To the left? Her voice suddenly drops, low and rough.

A little lower?

Yeah, right there. She's guiding me.

Finally, I feel the gun. I freeze.

Do you still think I'm a killer now?

I stare at the serial number on the gun. It's real. Standard issue police

equipment.

Who are you?

Lila doesn't answer.

She just grabs my hand and slowly presses it inside her leather jacket. If

you want answers...

Find them yourself.

She's baiting me. I know she is, but I refuse to back down. My fingers slide

along her waist, beneath the edge of her shirt, searching inch by inch.

I hear her breathing above me, deep and slow, as if she's holding something

back. I can feel the muscles in her stomach tense under my touch. I can feel

her heartbeat racing. Officer, are you investigating me? Her voice is quiet.

Or taking advantage of me? The last syllable, nearly brushing my ear.

Finally, I find a hidden inner pocket. I pull out what's inside, a photograph.

The person in the photo is me.

Me, three years ago, in uniform, outside the precinct. My name and badge number

are written on the back.

How long have you been stalking me?

Long before you ever noticed me.

I stare at the photograph.

Three years. She says she's been investigating me for three years.

What department are you with? Lila says nothing.

Show me your ID. I reach for the pocket over her chest.

She looks at me like she's daring me to try.

Go ahead.

Take it.

That does it. I lean in and reach inside her collar for the ID.

She doesn't dodge.

Instead, she lifts her chin, letting my fingers brush the warm skin beneath her

collarbone. My fingertips touch her pulse. It's racing like crazy.

Just as I'm about to reach the ID, every trace of amusement vanishes from her

face.

The real killer is on this plane tonight.

My hand freezes.

He has a photo of you?

Same as mine. My blood runs cold. I'm not the hunter.

I'm the bait.

From now on, don't leave my side.

Is that an order? My voice turns cold. Or are you worried about me?

We return to our seats.

This isn't the time to argue.

Lila reaches over and straightens my collar. The gesture looks natural, easy,

intimate, like something a girlfriend would do, but her fingertips tap three

times against my collarbone, a signal. The killer is somewhere in the three

rows behind us. I try to stay calm, but my eyes keep drifting backward.

Don't look. She suddenly grips my shoulder, her tone gentle.

Use the window reflection.

I hesitate for one second, then I move closer, resting against her shoulder. In

the window's reflection, I see the passenger behind us, a middle-aged man

in a baseball cap, staring directly at us.

Lila's hand settles on my waist.

Relax. You're too stiff.

Couples don't sit like that.

Her thumb draws tiny circles over my waist, through my clothes.

My breathing turns uneven. Under the armrest, her pinky hooks around mine.

Don't push your luck.

The man in the back stands up. He's walking toward us.

I immediately close my eyes and pretend to be asleep.

He stops beside our row. I can feel his stare scraping over my body like a

blade.

Baby, don't move.

Go back to sleep.

We'll land in an hour.

I press my face deeper into her neck.

Finally, the man walks away. I try to sit up immediately, but Lila doesn't let

go.

Are you using the mission as an excuse to take advantage of me?

Then why are you so good at playing along?

I'm about to argue. Then I realize she isn't even looking at me.

I don't like the way he was looking at you.

I see the man in the window reflection. He pulls something from his pocket,

tears it up, and drops it into a trash bag.

A photograph.

I stand up at once.

Let go.

What are you trying to do?

Rush over without backup and get yourself killed?

Her voice is low, almost a shout. You don't get to order me around.

I hid my identity to protect you.

Protect me?

You've been using me from the beginning.

It's the first real fight we've had. She holds my waist while I struggle to

stand. Then suddenly, she goes still.

Because if something happened to you, I'd lose control.

The silence is terrifying. As if she regrets saying it, she immediately lets

go and turns away. But I don't let her run.

Do you see me as a mission?

I stare into her eyes.

Or as something else.

She stays silent for a long time. So long, I think she won't answer. Three

years ago, there was an operation.

You saved a woman.

I freeze.

It was raining that night.

You gave her your coat and got her out safely.

The memory slowly comes back. Three years ago, late at night, heavy rain.

There was an injured witness.

I took off my uniform jacket and put it around her shoulders.

When she left, she never told me her name. My eyes dropped to Lila's waist.

There's an old scar there. Even beneath her clothes, I can make out its shape.

So what was it? Paying me back or keeping tabs on me?

Through the fabric, I can feel the uneven hollow of the scar and the faint

tremor running through her body.

I never forgot you.

Not once in three years.

Her voice is quiet.

And you don't even remember my face.

I don't pull my hand away.

So you got close to me because you wanted me to remember? She doesn't

answer. She only tightens her hold on my hand.

The cabin lights suddenly cut out. Everything goes black.

Footsteps, sound from the back, moving closer. Her hand reaches to my waist,

removes my badge, and slips it into a hidden pocket against her body. In the

darkness, we're pressed too close.

Her heartbeat slams against my chest, tangling with mine, until I can't tell

them apart.

Then I hear her muffled groan, soft, like someone has their hand around her

throat. The lights come back on.

The man is gone, but there's blood on my hand.

Officer, you finally found an excuse to take my clothes off? She's still

smiling, but her face is frighteningly pale.

Come with me to the rear, Gavin. Lila gives a faint laugh.

So the officer finally wants to interrogate me in private?

I drag her into the rear service area. The first aid kit is on the counter. The

space is tight.

Lila sits on the edge of the counter, and I stand between her knees.

My fingers touch her skin, warm, still bleeding.

I try to keep my hands from shaking. Then her knee nudges against my waist,

through my pants.

Officer, why are your hands shaking?

I ignore her. I pull the bandage tight and cinch it hard around her wound. She

lets out a low groan.

Our faces are only inches apart. Her lashes are long, her eyes slightly

upturned, and she doesn't blink as she stares at me. Are you worried about me?

I just don't want to lose the lead.

My voice is sharp, but my hand is still braced.

Protectively beside her wound, it doesn't move.

She looks down at my hand.

Have you touched enough?

I lift my head and meet her eyes.

No.

The door suddenly swings open.

It's the suspicious passenger. He stares at us with cold eyes.

What are you two doing in here?

I have no choice but to play along. My girlfriend isn't feeling well. I'm

taking care of her. Her voice is completely natural.

Her face presses against my chest.

Her breath warms my collarbone over and over, making my whole body tense.

The man keeps staring.

Then Lila lifts her head. My breath catches.

It hurts. It tingles.

and a shiver i can't explain spreads from that small patch of skin through my

entire body at last the man turns and leaves i push lila away immediately in

the reflection there's a vivid red mark on my neck my breathing is completely

ragged is this how you handle every mission lila's expression turns suddenly

cold i only do this with you i stare at her covert agents appear

and lead her into a secured corridor.

I'm blocked outside the glass door.

Right in front of her, I pull out my phone and dial the number.

The phone in Lila's pocket lights up. Her cover is completely blown, but she

isn't angry. She only gives me a helpless, tender smile. There's glass

between us, yet somehow it feels more intimate than any touch before.

The doors

begin to close. Through the glass, she mouths, Arrest me.

Next time?

I'm not letting you walk away.

A colleague calls my name. I can only watch her walk toward the other end of

the jet bridge.

She's about to turn the corners.

Silently, she mouths two words.

Forget me.

I clench the hand she touched.

Dream on.

I shake off my colleague and run to the end of the jet bridge.

Lila is still smiling.

Officer, are you here to arrest me? Your real name, your contact information, and

the next time I get to see you. I say every word clearly.

That information could get me killed.

And leaving me alone after making me fall for you is somehow fall safer? For

the first time, she has nothing to say.

I reach into her pocket and find a pen. Write it down.

Her fingertip follows the lines of my hand, then deliberately draws one extra

stroke like a caress. The number might be fake. My breath catches.

I lean close enough to feel her lashes tremble.

Then I'll put out a warrant for you.

We return to our seats. The cabin lights have been dimmed, and most people are

asleep. She pulls me into her arms. To everyone else, we look like a couple

cuddling, but we're speaking in whispers.

What happened three years ago? She is quiet for a few seconds.

Something you said that night made me want a normal life for the first time.

So you stalked me for three years?

That's your version of paying me back?

At first, I only wanted to protect you from a distance.

Her voice is low, until I found out the killer had marked you as a target.

Her hand rises to fix my collar, trying to cover the mark on my neck, but her

fingertips stay there and never leave, as if she's tracing the mark she left

behind.

You're the one person this mission cannot afford to lose.

Because I'm the target, I lean closer.

For the first time, there's nothing guarded left in her eyes.

Because you're my weakness.

While she goes to the restroom, I pick up the phone she left on the seat. The

screen is still lit. The mission order is right there.

My fingers go stiff.

So from the beginning, I was just part of her plan.

When she comes back, I already have my handcuffs out.

What are you doing?

Making sure you don't go rogue.

Lila doesn't struggle. Instead, she lets the cuffs pull her closer.

Are you arresting me? Her voice drops low.

Or are you scared I'll leave?

Don't flatter yourself. I'm just bait, right?

Through her clothes, I can feel the rhythm of her heartbeat. It's racing

like crazy.

The order is real. She stares directly at me.

And so is the fact that I want to protect you. Can you tell the

difference?

Chained together, we have no choice but to return to our seats side by side. I

deliberately sit as close to the aisle as possible, trying to keep my distance.

The man comes closer again, her arms brace on both sides of my body, trapping

me between her and the seat. I try to push her away. She lowers herself even

further, almost covering me completely.

Don't move.

Her lips brush against my ear.

I did want to use you at first.

So?

I give a cold laugh.

But the second I saw you, the entire plan fell apart.

I don't believe her, but she keeps herself between me and the aisle.

Finally, the man walks away. I order her to move.

Instead, she presses even closer. She looks into my eyes.

You put these cuffs on us?

Now neither of us gets to run.

The killer doubles back.

His footsteps are right outside the door. Lila pulls me into the rear

storage compartment.

The space is too tight. We have to stand face to face.

Her breath falls against my neck, fast and uneven.

I'm afraid she'll make a sound and expose us. She doesn't resist.

Instead, she gently kisses my palm. It's like an electric shock.

I try to pull away on instinct.

The footsteps stop right outside the storage door. We both hold our breath.

Her heartbeat pounds against my chest, tangling with mine until I can't tell

whose is faster.

At last, the footsteps fade away, but we stay frozen in the same position.

Half embrace, half stand off. Why did you kiss me?

Lila looks up at me.

You put your hand over my mouth.

What did you think that meant?

I move closer in an instant.

Say that again.

She suddenly pulls a thin pin from her hair.

What are you doing? I pound on the door until my palm goes numb.

He's already seen through our cover.

I have to draw him away.

Then I'm going with you. Three years ago, I couldn't stay.

Her voice is quiet. Because I was afraid of letting someone matter to me.

Three years later...

I still can't let you risk your life with me.

She pauses for a second, then the door opens a crack.

My whole body goes still.

While I'm stunned, she steps away and locks the door again.

Her footsteps fade.

I touch the spot just behind my ear where she kissed me. Her warmth still

lingers there.

Leela, if you dare go alone!

My voice shakes.

I'll drag you back myself!

I force the door open and rush towards the rear galley.

The killer is holding Lila at gunpoint.

Give me the evidence or I kill her. He means me. Then I finally understand.

She never saw me as bait.

The moment the killer is distracted, I lunge at him.

In the chaos, he struggles and raises his gun. The barrel points straight at

me. I pin the killer down until he stops moving. Then I turn to Lila.

She leans against the wall, slowly slides down, and falls into my arms.

Her weight collapses against me. Her breathing is so weak, I can barely hear

it. I hold her tighter, my hands shaking.

Didn't I tell you not to follow me?

Lila gives me a weak smile.

Shut up.

My eyes sting from now on you do what I say I

Help her back into the rear galley her wound is still bleeding. She's pale from

blood loss, but she's still smiling

Officer

In that much of a hurry to take my clothes off? It only makes me angrier.

Who gave you the right to keep making life or death decisions for me?

If you were the one lying there... She looks straight at me.

Do you really think I could stay calm?

I don't have an answer. All I can do is pull her into my arms.

Terrified, she'll disappear again.

Her body stiffens for one second, then her hand slowly settles at my waist. Her

palm is hot through my clothes.

pressing against me like she wants to pull me inside her embrace.

I lift my head and lean toward her. Her lips are right in front of me. Her

breath warms my mouth.

I freeze.

Isn't this what you've always wanted?

Lila speaks softly.

Because I want it too much.

I can't let myself have it right now.

When this mission is over, my identity disappears too. Her voice is quiet.

I can't promise I'll still be called Leela tomorrow.

And I can't promise I'll ever see you again.

Finally, I understand. She didn't avoid my kiss because she didn't want it. She

avoided it because it would be a promise she couldn't keep.

She reaches up to wipe away the fading mark on my neck. Her fingers linger

there like she wants to erase every trace of herself.

Just think of it as a mission.

I brace my hands on the counter, trapping her between my arms.

How dare you tempt me, protect me, make me fall for you! My voice shakes.

Then tell me it's over!

Lila wants to speak. My lips hover in front of hers, only an inch away.

You're not afraid of hurting me? I stare into her eyes.

You're afraid I'll actually make you stay.

Days later, I've searched every database I can access. There's no trace of her.

He number she wrote on my palm hasn't gone through since.

I return to the airport and sit at the same gate.

Then my phone buzzes.

Officer, all alone?

Before I can react.

That familiar cedar scent surrounds me from behind.

Miss me?

No, my voice is cold, but my hand has already grabbed her wrist from behind

like I'm afraid she'll run again Her lips brush my ear amusement in her voice

If you don't miss me, why are you holding on so tight?

making sure an escaped fugitive doesn't get away again.

I drag her into a private cubicle in the airport lounge.

Tell me what you're really here for.

Lila leans against the edge of the table.

Which part of me would you like to interrogate first, officer?

I step closer, copying the way she once trapped me. Both hands brace against the

table, boxing her in. She tries to turn the tables.

I haven't forgotten.

I stare at her. And I won't accept you disappearing again. At last, something

changes in her eyes.

And after you arrest me?

I feel her uneven breath against my lips, hot enough to make me lose

control. I'll keep you under very close watch.

I lean in further, her lashes tremble, brushing my cheek.

This time, it isn't an act.