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“It’s not too late to turn back and live in our little stormy getaway for the rest of our days.”
“I think the Hollingsworths would want their house back at some point.”
“I’d buy it from Miles. Or better yet, build us one in the same area. A nice hidey-hole just for us.”
Her smile was bittersweet as she wove her much smaller fingers through his. “No more hiding, remember?”
Trystan glanced over at Chance, but the man was a master of discretion. He was fully focused on his phone screen with his headphones firmly in place, giving them the privacy, if not the space, Trystan craved.
Trystan lifted their entwined fingers to his lips and dropped a kiss on her knuckles.
“I want to fucking show you off to the world, Iris, but I worry that it’ll all be too overwhelming for you.”
“I can face anything with you by my side, Trystan.”
God, he really hoped that was true.
Piper chose that moment to interrupt and ask them about their meals.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to travel any other way now,” Iris moaned the following morning, stretching out on the bed beside Trystan. She’d just had the best sleep, spooned by Trystan, who’d kept her wrapped in his strong arms all night. There’d been some turbulence, but the flight had been smooth and comfortable for the most part.
The pilot had just announced that they would be landing in two hours—at a private airfield outside of London—which gave them enough time to freshen up and have breakfast.
Trystan’s hold tightened around her for a few seconds and she turned in his arms to face him. She still hadn’t grown accustomed to waking up next to him, and lovingly tracked her gaze over his familiar features—his eyes still bleary with sleep, his overly long hair mussed, and stubble darkening his jaw.
She cupped that bristled jaw, running her thumb over his scar, and once again feeling a pang of loss as she remembered his unkempt beard. She marveled at how far they’d come since then.
He didn’t say anything, merely stared at her with his usual single-minded focus. She smiled as she recollected his words when she’d called him out on it: I like looking at you. Such a simple sentiment and, yet, it had shaken her to the very foundation of her being. This beautiful man liked looking at her. She still didn’t quite know how to feel about that… all she knew was that she preened a little every time he looked at her now.
He lifted a hand and smoothed it over her untamable hair, sweeping her wild curls back from her forehead and dropping a chaste kiss just above her left brow. If the erection straining against her stomach was any indication, he was feeling anything but chaste, and she couldn’t blame him for that. Not after the way they’d left things last night. They’d had a hot-and-heavy make-out session after falling into bed, which had only ended in mutual frustration. Iris suspected that Trystan would’ve had no scruples about making her a card-carrying member of the Mile High Club, but she’d remained maddeningly aware of Chance and Piper on the other side of the flimsy wall.
Trystan had dialed it down and eventually had spooned behind her, wrapping her in his arms and cuddling her close to his chest—until she’d relaxed enough to fall asleep. And now here they were, both still so damned turned on Iris was tempted to just throw caution and discretion to the wind and give the man what he so desperately needed. Well… not just the man. She really wouldn’t mind taking the edge off either.
His other hand, the one at her waist, crept down and gave her bum a cheeky squeeze before he groaned and with clear reluctance removed his hands from her body and sat up, leaving her feeling cold and lonely.
He threw back the covers—ignoring her outraged hey—and leaped agilely to his feet. His beautiful hard cock tented the front of his boxers—his only clothing—as he stretched with unashamed abandon, enviably comfortable in his skin. He yawned and then stared down at her with a wicked little grin, his eyes raking over her body which was curled up defensively against the chill of the air-conditioning after he’d so thoughtlessly tossed aside the warm bedding. She was wearing nothing but a camisole and a pair of skimpy bikini panties, and she blushed at the naked appreciation she saw in his smoldering silver eyes.
He shook his head, his grin downgrading to a self-deprecating smirk, and lifted the corner of the comforter to toss it back over her huddled body.
“I always believed I had a decent amount of willpower, but you’re constantly proving me wrong just by being your fucking perfect self.”
“Shut up,” she said with an amused snort and sat up. Her dark areolas and cold-hardened nipples were clearly visible to his voracious gaze through her white top, and he groaned and adjusted himself uncomfortably before screwing his eyes shut.
“Begone, devil woman,” he said before whirling around and heading to the en-suite bathroom. There was a smaller bathroom upfront for the flight staff and Chance, but this one was ridiculous. It had a large shower and even a little doggy area where Luna could relieve herself (apparently the Hollingsworths had a spoiled pupper who travelled everywhere with them).
He paused in the doorway and turned to face her again, that naughty grin back.
“Wanna share a shower? It’s a little more soundproof in here.”
Iris gazed at him in open-mouthed wonder.
“Seriously? It is?”
“I kid you not,” he intoned solemnly, holding one hand over his heart. “In fact, I don’t know why I didn’t think of this last—oomph.”
The last as Iris launched herself out of bed and straight into his arms, climbing him like a tree until she had her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms around his neck, and her lips nuzzled behind his ear.
He laughed, the sound warm and filled with unabashed joy, as his hands clamped over her arse to hold her up.
