Page 63 of A Love Song for Dreamers

I memorize the way her eyes change color when she’s full of me. I devour her sighs andmoans.

This ishome.

This islove.

This is everything I’ve missed, everything I’ve wanted and never dared toname.

I’m lost with her, but for once, lost doesn’t feel like panic. It feels liketrust.

When she shudders in my arms, her mouth coming back to mine as if she can’t stand to be apart from me, I know thetruth.

I told myself I could make do with her giving me all of hertonight.

But it’s not enough. It will never beenough.

14

Tyler Adams is a sore loser.

We play games on the plane back from New York. It’s been a while since I traveled first class, but with him, I wouldn’t care if we were stuffed in with the bags. Sitting next to him, hearing him laugh and seeing him smile, is amazing andmaddening.

“It’s a word game app,” he argues, jerking his chin at my phone in his hand for emphasis. “You’re going to win bydefault.”

“That’s not true,” I say, wrenching the device away from him. “Man up and competealready.”

He narrows his gaze. “You’re going to attack my masculinity in the middle of a commercialflight?”

Then I feel a tickling at my waist and stifle a surprised shriek. “Sorry,” I say to the flight attendant and the cabin in general as I shove his hands away and face the front of the plane,flushing.

To him, I murmur, “You are a menace tosociety.”

His curved lips brush my ear. “That’s not what you called me lastnight.”

My thighs squeeze together at his lowered voice because I think I’m wet again. We had sex three times before falling asleep, and twice more thismorning.

How either of us is still horny defies logic andbiology.

“You promised not to do that on theplane.”

“Do what? Distract you with thoughts of what else we could be doing right now? Forgive me if two years is a long time and I’d rather be so deep insideyou—”

I clap a hand over his mouth because if he finishes that sentence, I’m going to come right in the middle of firstclass.

I shove my phone in my bag because there’s no way I can concentrate on a gamenow.

After the flight attendant comes around to offer us drinks—we both opt for water, which comes in individual bottles with fancy glasses on the side—he asks, “So how does Mr. Douchey Ex not being involved affect yourshow?”

“If Ian’s not the first investor, I need to line up some alternatives. And the truth is he was our best chance because he knew us and knew ourwork.”

I pull out my tablet and open up the files I started to pull while we waited for ourflight.

“Bios,” I explain as he looks over my shoulder. “On every other funder in Ian’s circle offriends.”

“Blackmail?”

I laugh. “Not quite. I know what they’ve invested in, what their history is. Ian’s not going to do me any favors, but I’m hoping he won’t interfere. Still, on the chance he won’t…I need a PlanB.”

His slow grin has me arching abrow.

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