Page 88 of Blindside Saint

But the SUV behind me is unshakeable. I zig, it zigs. Don’t even get me started on the zagging. We’re on Lake Washington Boulevard when a second SUV overtakes the first and blocks the way. It takes me a moment of clawing panic before I realize that one of Spencer’s men is behind the wheel of the new car.

Then and only then do I breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Sloan? You still here, angel?”

“I’m here, Beck.”

“Good. Come to me. Everything is going to be fine.”

I repeat that like a mantra until I pull up at the arena. He’s waiting out front, pacing nervous circles around where his bag is sitting on the ground. When he sees me, he rushes over.

I roll down the window. He reaches for me and presses his forehead to mine. “You’re okay? You’re all good?”

“Yeah,” I say shakily. “I bet it was nothing. I’m just being paranoid.”

“I like you that way.” He laughs. I know he’s putting on a brave front for me, because Lord knows Beck is as paranoid as they come when it concerns my safety, but right now, I appreciate it. It’s easier to breathe in his arms like this.

When I’m relaxed again, I glance over at his bag and frown. “Wait—this is a long road trip. That’s all you’re bringing?”

He grins wickedly. “My bag is on the plane with the team.”

“Isn’t that where we’re supposed to be?”

“Nope. You and I have a different plane to catch.”

I blink slowly. “This is the part where you explain what on earth you’re talking about.”

“I made some special arrangements for today. We’re taking a private plane. A you-and-me-and-no-one-else plane. A join-the-mile-high-club plane.” He winks. “That’swhat I’m talking about, babe. Do you have a problem with that?”

I feel heat blossom between my thighs. The promise of several hours of uninterrupted orgasms at thirty thousand feet sounds pretty nice after the panic I just suffered through. And who am I to turn up my nose at a private plane?

“No,” I say with a giggle. “No problem at all.”

The mile-high club is as good as advertised. I feel like I’m still soaring by the time we touch down, like my feet aren’t actually in contact with the ground at all and I’m just hovering down the actual, literal red carpet laid out from the end of the jet stairs into the hangar.

The weather is unseasonably warm for this time of year, so Beck sheds his jacket as we wait for the car Spencer is bringing around.

“I guess Chicago forgot how cold it’s supposed to be in February.” I laugh as he rolls up his sleeves.

“Or maybe Chicago knows I have plans for us tonight and it’s being accommodating.”

“Moreplans? I don’t know if my vagina can handle more of what we just did.”

He grins. “Surprise plans. Prepare yourself.”

“How much of a surprise are we talking about here?”

“Big surprise. I almost want to tell you right now.”

“But you won’t?”

“‘Fraid not.” He locks his lips then tosses the make-believe key over one shoulder.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to wait then.” I shrug like it doesn’t matter, like I’m not burning inside with curiosity. But if he can play his game, I can play mine.

“I guess you will.” He cocks his head. “Aren’t you even just a bit curious, though?”

He wants me to be. He wants to dangle his “surprise” in front of me and make me anxious and needy to know.

---