Page 62 of The Prince's Game
Private Jets
I was surrounded by luxury. Plush recliner chairs, two matching couches, coffee tables, a fully stocked kitchen and minibar, and champagne were a few of the finer touches I noticed. There appeared to be a room at the back with a bed and a full bathroom. I thought the private jet we took to the Bahamas was nice, but this was quintessence of elegance.
“You’ve officially ruined me when it comes to future travel.” I sipped the bubbly from my flute and relaxed into my oversized executive chair. “I’m also starting to think this is the real reason you came to visit me in Indiana. If I owned something like this, I would live in it.”
Evan’s amused chuckle went straight to my lower abdomen. Our kiss for the cameras earlier wasn’t enough. I needed more.So much more. “Trust me, the jet was a minor incentive compared to seeing you.”
“Sweet talker.” I unbuckled my seatbelt. “Will you finally tell me where we’re going?” The show’s producers wanted it to be a surprise. There were worse things in life than hopping on a private jet to an unknown location, but the planner part of me wanted to know where we were headed.
“Nope. You have to open something first.”
“Well, that sounds kinky.” We were the only ones on the jet aside from the pilots. We could have some serious fun in this large, luxurious space. Hopefully we were in for a long flight. I had quite a few things I wanted to do to him. “I’m surprised Paul didn’t demand to be on the plane with five cameras to catch all the action.”
His grin was wicked. “Yeah, he doesn’t know we’re on the jet yet.”
I brought the flute away from my lips and cocked an eyebrow. “He doesn’t know I’m here?”
“He thinks you’re meeting him at the airport and flying with the crew in a few hours.”
I gaped at him. Paul announced the travel schedule to the crew after filming in the mansion’s foyer ended, but I assumed when the driver showed up that Paul wanted footage of me traveling, so I rolled with it. Then I stopped thinking when I saw Evan standing outside the airport, waiting for me.
“So yeah, the driver will be delivering a note, instead of you, to Paul in a few hours. As we’re already in the air, it’ll be too late to stop us when he reads it.” His brown eyes glowed with self-satisfaction.
I laughed. “Oh, he’s going to be pissed.” Not that I cared.
“Yeah, well, it seemed sufficient payback for all the crap that asshole pulled in Paris. He had it coming.”
“Do I even want to know what he did?”
The light vanished from his eyes. “No, you don’t.”
The silence that followed was deafening. He wouldn’t look at me. Not a good sign. Neither was the tick in his jaw.
“Oh.”You don’t have to talk about it,was on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t force it out. Iwantedhim to tell me what happened. Five days without speaking to him left my brain running with all sorts of scenarios I wanted clarified. It was ridiculous to worry about it, not when the parameters of our relationship were so clearly defined, but I couldn’t help the irrational part of me that needed to know.
He took a healthy sip of his champagne and set it down. “They forced us to share a suite, Sarah. Since I owned the hotel we stayed in, I upgraded us to a penthouse setup with two bedrooms, but Amber was, well, persistent.” He still wouldn’t look at me. “Despite what the show is going to imply, nothing happened beyond kissing.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t sure what else to say to that.
He got up and retrieved a bottle of dark liquor from a cabinet. I couldn’t see the label, but I guessed it was bourbon. That was his preferred drink. He poured a glass and sipped it with his back to me. “I feel like I spent the last week cheating on you, yet here I am whisking you off on a romantic getaway like everything’s fine. It’s fucked up.”
“This entire situation is fucked up, Evan.” I joined him in the kitchen area and leaned against the cabinet, arms folded. It put me in his direct line of sight, but his gaze was on the brown liquor in his glass. “It’s what we make of it that matters. Stop dwelling on the negatives and enjoy the moment instead. We’re alone on your gorgeous jet. Surely there are better ways to spend our time?”I don’t want my final memories of you to be about the show. I want to rememberyou.
He rested his forearm on the wood panel over my head, caging me between him and the cabinet. The scent of leather lingered on his maroon sweater, tantalizing my senses.Thiswas what I wanted to remember. Not the sadness or the guilt, but the desire radiating between our bodies.
He crowded my personal space and sipped his bourbon while studying me. Chocolate was my kryptonite, and his eyes reminded me of molten fudge. A woman could melt under that intense gaze. “I’m brooding.” His voice was deep and rolled over my skin like a caress.
“Yes, you are.” Not that I was mad. I would rather he feel guilty about spending time with Amber than feel no remorse at all. It meant he cared. And knowing all they did was kiss while in Paris helped calm my nerves.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured
“For brooding?”
“For everything.”
“I can think of a few ways you could make me forgive you.”
“Yeah?” He placed the rim to my mouth and tipped the glass just enough to give me a taste. The smoky liquid flowed over my tongue to my throat, warming me inside. I licked my lips to savor the flavor, and he followed the motion with his fervent gaze. He took another sip before setting the cup down on one of the shelves and grabbed my hip. His touch burned through my jeans to the bare skin beneath, making me shiver. One hard thigh slid between mine.
