Page 90 of Dial B for Billionaire

She nods and disappears through a discreet door. I catch her practiced expression of polite blindness.

“Five hours,” I muse, sipping the champagne. It's perfectly chilled, bubbles dancing on my tongue. “Whatever shall we do to pass the time?”

His eyes darken. “I have a few ideas.”

The champagne nearly sloshes over the rim of my glass as he pulls me onto his lap, one fluid motion that brings us face to face. I let out a giggling squeal then steady myself with a hand on his shoulder, laughing.

“Careful! This is probably ridiculously expensive.”

“The champagne?” His hands slide to my hips, anchoring me against him. “Or the upholstery you're worried about staining?”

“Both?” I set my glass safely aside. “Though I imagine you could afford the cleaning bill.”

“I could buy ten more jets,” he murmurs, lips finding the sensitive spot beneath my ear. “But I’d ruin them all if it means being alone with you.”

The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard, stealing my clever comeback. Instead, I thread my fingers through his hair and bring his mouth to mine.

The kiss deepens instantly, his hands sliding up my back as I press against him. Five hours suddenly feels insufficient for everything I want to do with this man.

“You know,” I murmur against his lips, “I've never joined the mile-high club.”

His laugh is low. “Another first for Ms. Carmichael? I'm honored to be corrupting you so thoroughly.”

“Don't get cocky,” I warn, rolling my hips against his and feeling his immediate response. “I'm still the good influence in this relationship.”

“Relationship?” His eyebrow arches, hands stilling on my waist.

My stomach drops. Too soon. Too much. I start to backpedal, but his expression isn't one of alarm. It's thoughtful, almost pleased.

“Is that what this is?” he asks, voice gentler than I've ever heard it.

I swallow hard. “I don't know. What would you call it?”

His thumbs trace small circles against my hips. “Something that should scare the hell out of me.” His voice drops. “Something I couldn’t walk away from if I tried.”

The admission seems to surprise him as much as me, and his words hang, the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath my hands the only movement.

“I wasn't looking for this either,” I admit, vulnerability making my voice soft. “But I'm starting to think the best things are the ones we don't plan for.”

Bennett's fingers trace up my spine. “I'm not good at improvising.”

“Could've fooled me,” I say, gesturing to our surroundings. “Spontaneous trip to Portugal seems pretty unplanned.”

“That's different.” His eyes hold mine with an intensity that makes my heart stutter. “This is calculated risk. I know exactly how much time we need, what we'll do when we land, when we'll return. The variables are controlled.”

“And us?” I ask. “Are we a controlled variable?”

His hands frame my face, thumb tracing my lower lip. “Not even close. You're the most unpredictable element in my life right now. I can’t predict what you’ll do next. Can’t forecast how you’ll make me feel.”

“Is that a problem?”

“It should be.” The corner of his mouth lifts. “But I find I don't give a damn.”

“Good,” I whisper, and then we're kissing again.

His hands slide up my back, unzipping my dress and unhooking my bra while his mouth trails hot kisses down my neck. I arch against him, suddenly desperate, fumbling with his belt buckle.

“Here?” I gasp as he drags the bodice down to my waist, exposing my breasts to the cool air.

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