JACE
I don’t mean to sit and watch her as she sleeps. But the plane is silent and the lights are still dimmed inside the cabin. Her window is cracked, and rays of sunlight shine over her face. Her head is resting on my shoulder and I can smell her coconut shampoo. Desi is filling my every sense; even her hand is still entwined with mine as she snoozes, little sleepy noises escaping her lips every now and then as she shifts in her seat to try to get more comfortable.
She’s trying to lean in closer to me, but the goddamn armrest is in the way. I don’t know how to move it without waking her, so I just settle for the knowledge that she wants to be closer to me. At least in her dreams.
The familiar ding of the seat belt light rings, and I know we’re about to start our descent. I don’t want her to miss seeing Manhattan from the air, so I brush my fingertips against her wrist. Her eyelids flutter open and when that green gaze lands on me, I nearly melt. I hope my instincts earlier didn’t fail me and she’s reconsidering sharing her time with me.
Lifting my hand tentatively to her forehead, I push her curls away from her face. “Wake up, princess, we’re about to land at JFK.”
She sits up straight in her seat and bounces a couple of times. “Yeah? I’m so excited. I can’t wait to see everything. What do we do first?”
I grin and reach over to make sure her seat belt is buckled. I try to ignore the pull in my abdomen at being so close to her and say, “There is a two-hour time difference between here and Denver, so it’s already past one. We need to check into the hotel, get freshened up, and head over to Matt’s office to meet with Edmonds. That is, if you want to. I suppose you don’t have to go to the actual meeting to sign, you could just come to dinner after—”
“No,” she interrupts. “I want to come to all of it. I want to be by your side every second.” She slides her hand back into mine. “That’s what a supportive girlfriend does, right?”
“Well, yeah, I guess so.”
She leans back in the seat. “Then that’s settled.”
After a bumpy landing that has her cutting off circulation to my fingers, we grab our luggage and hail a cab to take us to the hotel. Just like the plane tickets, I may have gone a little over the top, booking us a room at a Manhattan boutique hotel.
Desi ducks her head into the bathroom, scoping out the enormous bathtub. “I’m using that later. Don’t even try to stop me,” she says, winking at me as she tries out the plush bed. Like a child making snow angels, she spreads her arms and legs and slides them back and forth.
“Why would I try to stop you? That gets you naked in my bathroom. I welcome that,” I say without thinking, removing my suit from its garment bag.
I’m so blurring the lines she made clear. It feels like a dick move without knowing for sure she’s changed her mind.
“Desi—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—”
She gets to her feet, saunters across the room to me, and I can’t help but let my eyes roam over her long legs encased in those tight jeans and the V-neck sweater that reminds me so much of the one she was wearing the day we met.
“Now that I know that for sure, it’s game on, Mr. Wilder,” she whispers, trailing her fingernail across my chest before disappearing into the bathroom with her toiletry bag.
Well, okay then. It looks like my anxiety can fuck off for once. I was right. She wants to try again. My phone rings, interrupting the moment—thankfully, because I was about to be in a pretty embarrassing physical situation in a second.
“This is Jace.”
It’s Matt, checking that we arrived and are still on to sign the contract at four. I assure him that Desi and I will be there, then hang up and fall back on the bed. I can’t believe this is finally happening. The dream I’ve spent years working toward is on its way to becoming my reality. My stomach somersaults with a mixture of nerves and excitement—a volatile combination that makes my hands shake. My eyes flutter shut as I try to center myself.
My breathing returns to normal just as Desi steps out of the bathroom in nothing but black lace panties and a push-up bra.
“Sorry. I forgot my dress out here,” she says innocently, like she isn’t standing there in front of me looking like pure temptation and sex with a side of sin.
She gives me a once-over and her eyebrows knit together. “Jace, are you all right?”
“I—” I shake my head, trying to break the spell she has on me. “I was until this fucker,” I say, pointing down at my crotch, where the erection that deflated when the phone rang has returned in full force.
Desi laughs while walking to the closet and taking a purple dress off the hanger. “I should apologize, but it’s good to know you still like me that much.”
“That’s the understatement of the year,” I mumble, sitting up on the edge of the bed so I have a better view to watch her while she dresses.
Desi slides the sleek dress over her head, shimmying into the clingy fabric. She moves her arms behind her to zip it, and after a couple seconds, her eyes widen and her cheeks flush. “Oh, dammit.”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“My dress. Can you zip it for me? I think I ate one too many Zebra Cakes—damn Glen for introducing me to those—and now it feels too tight.” She’s clearly embarrassed and trying to deflect using humor. I know a thing or two about that.
I stand and guide her around until her back is to me. The smooth skin along her spine calls me to run my fingers over it. I picture sliding the strap down her shoulder and letting it pool on the floor at her feet. Again, I wrangle in my hormones and zip the dress. The way the silky, dark-purple fabric clings to her curves is sinful. She has me thinking all sorts of depraved thoughts.