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A shake of his head. “Oh no,” he says. “I’m just a big, dumb hockey player. I need them spelled out for me.”

The man is insufferable.

“I can touch you,” he says, leaning forward and settling his palm on my knee.

I curse wearing the shorts, curse that I can feel every inch of his hand on my skin—and there are a lot of inches.

Likely, there are a lot of inches other places too.

“But not touch you,” he goes on, sliding that slightly calloused palm higher, making me shiver again. “I can kiss you, but not kiss you. I can⁠—”

“No fucking,” I blurt out, grasping at straws.

He stops, fingers tightening around my thigh. “No fucking,” he agrees.

Then pauses for a long moment.

I find I’m holding my breath, my head spinning when he murmurs…

“Unless you ask for it.”

EIGHT

Ace

I lose her with the last.

Break the spell.

The heat in her eyes changes, becomes anger.

I lean into that. “Or we can skip the asking and just go into the back,” I drawl. “There’s a bed.”

She clicks her tongue, shakes her head. “Does that mean there are pillows I can smother you with too?”

Said so calmly it takes a moment for the words to process.

Probably because I’m watching her kissable mouth as it forms the question.

Pretty. Such a pretty woman.

With murderous intent, apparently.

I grin, which causes her brows to drag together, mouth pressing flat. I want to reach forward, use my thumb to free those plump lips, then lean in and see if they taste as delectable as they look⁠—

But boundaries.

Plus, this flight isn’t going to last forever, and we really need to get on the same page, need to focus on something that isn’t a game of who can be the most stubborn.

I snag the warm glass of now flat champagne and lean to the side. “Can we get a fresh glass, Janette?” I call.

The stewardess, who I’ve flown with a couple of times before, probably thinks that I’ve gone off the deep end, what with the sudden appearance of a fiancée who apparently can’t make drink decisions for herself and the hour-long staring contest afterward, but she doesn’t comment, just snags the glass and has it replaced with a fresh one in a flash.

“Drink,” I tell Violet once Janette has walked away.

Blond brows lift. “Another order.”

“You’re about to meet my family,” I say instead of acknowledging that. “You need the drink and we need to get a few things straight.”