Page 116 of Fixing to Be Mine

I nod. “Glad you woke up ’cause eww.”

She laughs, and I pull her into my arms.

“That’s one confrontation already knocked off my list. After that, are you still sure about going with me tomorrow?”

I don’t hesitate. “There’s no place on the fuckin’ planet I’d rather be than by your side. Now, tell me, how do you feel, getting that off your chest?”

“Great,” she says. “I’m in control of my life again. I got stuck in a loop of trying to make everyone else happy but myself. I realize that, and it’s so sad.”

I cup her cheeks, then kiss her slowly, enjoying the way she tastes. I pull away, meeting her eyes. “What about now, darlin’? Are you happy?”

“Yes. The happiest I’ve ever been,” she whispers against my mouth, then dives back in for more.

Our tongues twist together as I push her up against the door.

Her arms wrap around my neck as she moans against me.

“You’re a little terrifying,” I mutter against her ear, teeth grazing her skin.

She holds me like I’m the safest thing she’s ever known and the only man she’s ever wanted.

“Guess you’d better take me to bed, cowboy. Don’t want to give you my wrath.”

“Mmm, give it to me. I love your sassy wrath. It’s lightning,” I say, scooping her up and carrying her down the hallway as she presses soft kisses against my neck.

I set her down on the bed as she removes her shirt and pulls me toward her. As I lay her back and slip her panties off, I know she’s not running anymore. She’s walking toward me. And, God help me, I’m ready to drop down on one knee and enjoy the calm after the storm—with her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

STORMY

The sun hasn’t risen yet. But it will.

The black SUV slows to a stop just past the security gate, and the driver nods at me through the rearview mirror. Beyond the windshield, the private jet is already waiting—sleek and silver, its sharp nose pointed toward the runway, like it’s impatiently waiting to leave.

I glance at Colt, who hasn’t said a word since we turned onto the access road. He’s leaning forward slightly, forearms resting on his thighs, eyes locked on the plane, like he’s still trying to decide if it’s real.

“Ready?” I ask, trying to ease the silence.

He looks over at me, then back at the jet. “You own this?”

“Yes. Several.” I smile, but I don’t miss the way he gives me a second glance as he gets out. Not tense, but aware that this is my world.

The tarmac is cold beneath our feet as we cross toward the open stairs. A flight attendant in navy slacks and a crisp blouse greets us with a polite smile, but her eyes flick to Colt with brief curiosity. She doesn’t ask questions because she wouldn’t dare.

Once we’re on board, the cabin door seals behind us with a soft hiss. The air inside is cooler than I expected. The plane isexactly how I remember it—with white leather seats, wood trim, and soft lighting. Colt takes it in with a slow turn of his head, not speaking yet as he processes it.

“Wow,” he says, running a hand through his hair.

Colt lowers himself into the seat beside me, his eyes still moving over the space, like he’s trying to memorize the layout.

“You okay?” I ask, watching him.

“I’m shocked,” he says, then glances at me with the smallest smile. “You’re a princess, for real.”

This makes me laugh. “No. Trust me. Princesses are a lot more spoiled. I know a few.”

The captain’s voice crackles through the speaker, announcing a several-hour flight time and smooth conditions. The jet begins to taxi down the runway, and Colt’s hand finds mine on the armrest. I don’t think he even realizes he reached for me.

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