Page 19 of The Billionaire's Bargain

Wariness immediately shadows her expression. Of course it does. Women like Alice—women who've had to fight for every scrap of security—recognize propositions as potential threats.

"Nothing improper," I assure her, though the lie stings. Everything I want to do to her is gloriously improper. "I need to check on one of my properties this weekend. A small island."

Her eyes widen. "An island? Like...a resort?"

"Like a private residence. My private residence."

She sets the book aside carefully. "Just us?"

The question hangs between us, heavy with implication. I nod, watching her throat work as she swallows.

Three hours later, we're boarding my private jet. Alice clutches her hastily packed overnight bag like it's a shield. I'd offered to have my valet prepare everything she might need, but she'd insisted on bringing her own things. Her independence is as adorable as it is frustrating.

Her eyes dart around the jet's luxurious interior, taking in the cream leather seating and polished wood details. "I've never been on a plane before," she admits quietly.

Something tender uncurls in my chest. "Never?"

She shakes her head. "Never had the money. Or the reason, really."

I take her bag, handing it to the flight attendant. "Then I'm honored to be your first."

The double meaning isn't lost on her. Those expressive eyes darken slightly before she looks away.

The engines start with a low rumble. Alice jumps, her hand instinctively reaching for mine. I capture it, entwining our fingers.

"It's perfectly normal," I tell her. "Come sit."

I guide her to one of the large seats and buckle her in myself, deliberately letting my fingers brush against her hip. Her breath catches, but she doesn't pull away.

The plane begins to taxi. Alice's grip on my hand tightens painfully.

"Distract me," she pleads. "Tell me about this island."

I settle into the seat beside her. "It's small. Private. About twenty acres with a main house and a few smaller structures. White sand beaches, crystal clear water, and complete seclusion."

"Sounds expensive," she murmurs.

"It is." No point pretending otherwise. "But that's not why I love it. I love the silence. The distance from demands and expectations. No one to impress. No one watching."

The plane accelerates down the runway. Alice squeezes her eyes shut, her nails digging into my palm. On impulse, I unbuckle my seatbelt and slide into her seat, lifting her onto my lap in one smooth motion.

"Alexander!" she gasps, eyes flying open.

"Shh," I murmur against her ear. "Let me help you through this."

The plane lifts off the ground. Alice whimpers, burying her face against my neck. I wrap my arms around her, one hand stroking her back in slow, soothing circles. She fits against me perfectly, her softness molding to my harder angles.

"Focus on me," I tell her, my voice dropping lower. "Nothing else exists right now. Just you and me."

We level out. The seat belt sign dings off. Alice's breathing gradually steadies, but she makes no move to leave my lap. I don't remind her.

"Better?" I ask, my lips brushing her temple.

She nods, then shifts slightly—and freezes when she feels my hardness beneath her. A small "oh" escapes her lips.

I should apologize. Set her aside. Maintain the pretense that my interest in her is merely philanthropic.

Instead, I tighten my arms around her. "This is what you do to me, Alice. Just by existing in my space."

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