Page 49 of The Heiress's First Date

Getting lost together is quickly becoming my favorite pastime.

He inhales deeply and then drops a hand from my back to scramble for the panel on the wall. Double doors slide closed, ensconcing us in the bedroom.

My heart trips.

We’re finally alone.

Alone with plenty of time to ourselves.

He turns us, taking two steps back, and then settles into the chair. I step between his knees, hands on his shoulders. Giddiness flows through me like an endless river.

He lifts his lips for a kiss, and his hands skim down over my ass before sliding upward again, this time beneath my sweater. My body comes alive at his touch. So sensitive, so eager.

I lift my head and smile down at him. “Thanks for an amazing day.”

“My pleasure.”

I give a happy little hum. “I think the pleasure’s about to be mine as well.”

His lips hitch up in one of those rare half-smiles that makes my heart trip. There’s not much reason for smiling in his business, dealing with danger and constantly looking for safe exit strategies. I can see how that’d get transactional, especially from the top. Running the company rather than dealing with a single client.

“Definitely,” he rumbles.

His thumbs glide over my ribs, higher and higher, until they settle beneath my breasts. My breath stalls as I wait for him to touch me. To tease my aching nipples.

Who am I kidding? I’m aching all over. Not the painful kind, but with the sort of anticipation that clouds judgment and leads to bliss.

Threading my fingers through his hair, I lower my lips to his. The plane starts to move, and I stumble. He catches me against him and, in a lightning-fast move, settles me across his thighs, arms banded tight around my waist.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be your seat belt.”

I melt at the corny line and rain kisses across his cheek. “I’m never worried when I’m with you.”

A full-body shudder quakes through him.

Cupping his cheek, I turn his face to mine. “You okay?”

He gives a jerky nod.

I kiss the corner of his mouth. “You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”

There’s a long pause. Another inhale. Then he leans his forehead against mine.

I soak in the feel of him, committing it all to memory. The tight hold, the way his inky lashes seem to rest against his cheeks.

“That means a lot,” he says, voice laced with gratitude.

That he can tell me anything?

I smile. “You’ve already seen me on some of my worst days.”

Which, in the scheme of things, haven’t been all that bad. But he doesn’t point that out. He doesn’t make me feel silly or melodramatic. He just nods a slight nod that lets me know he hears me.

He understands.

“Since my sister was killed, it feels like all I’ve done is worry.”

19

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