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But I’ll do it my way.

“What the fuck are you playing at?” he growls once we’re alone.

“Oh look,” I say, triumph blooming through my middle as I point out the window. “That cloud looks like an elephant.”

Silence.

I keep my gaze directed outside the plane…at least until a big hand settles on the back of my neck, turning my head, and suddenly I’m face to face with him again.

And he’s just as intoxicating as before.

Those brown eyes are pools of fury, interwoven with different shades of tan and chocolate, with flecks of gold. His mouth is screwed up into a scowl, but it’s no less kissable. Neither is the firm line of his jaw, stubble lightly dotting his skin.

He may be the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

Luckily, my asshole radar is on point.

So I don’t do something stupid like lean in and inhale the scent of his cologne. Don’t pay attention to the fact that it holds notes of citrus and spice.

I just smile at him dumbly then turn my head—with a little more effort than before, since his hand is still resting on the back of my neck. “You see?” I say blithely, pointing out the window again. “The trunk is there and the ears and—” Here I falter because there’s no fucking way that cloud looks remotely like an elephant. “The tail,” I manage to add. “And tusks,” I tack on, rather brilliantly, if I do say so myself.

Ace’s fingers flex on my neck, drawing my face back to his.

He studies me with those furious brown eyes and then I watch, shocked as hell, as his anger fades, as his mouth turns up. “You’re fucking with me.”

Maybe it’s his closeness, maybe it’s his scent or the way the anger’s faded from his words, his expression, those gorgeous brown eyes. I don’t know exactly why. I just know that my heart starts pounding. “Wh-what?”

“I didn’t think you had it in you, princess.” A shake of his head, lips curving further. “But you’re fucking with me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I manage to say neutrally.

“Bullshit—”

“Your champagne, miss.”

We both blink and sit back. Ace reaches up and takes the flute the stewardess holds out, handing it over to me before accepting his own tumbler with a few inches of amber-colored liquid.

“Can I get you two anything else?” she asks.

Ace looks at me, and I just blink dumbly at him.

A shake of his head, his mouth still tipped up. “No,” he says, not looking at the attendant. “We don’t need anything else. Thank you.”

I sense her walking away, but I find that I can’t tear my stare from Ace’s.

I want to say it’s because he’s like a fucking snake in the grass, coiled up, tail rattling, prepared to strike, so I have to keep my eye on the danger he presents.

But…

It’s not just that.

“There’s a little fire under all of that ice, isn’t there?” he asks silkily.

I manage to hold back my retort, but I know the asshole sees he struck gold with that because his smile changes, becoming more of a smirk, becoming more all-knowing. And that—unfortunately—has some of my fire escaping, flicking out to melt the ice protecting me, to slip through my armor and lash out at him.

Dangerous.

Because it leaves me vulnerable.