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I finish soon after, with a guttural growl, my hands wrapped tight around her hips as I come inside her.
When I pull out, we’re both breathless, grinning. I kiss her once, hard, and draw back just far enough to gaze straight into her eyes. “You’d better start packing,” I tell her. “We’re going to New York tomorrow.”
10
Sinclair
“This is ridiculous. I didn’t even know planes had stairs.” I trail Ankor up the steps to the second story—the private first class only cabin. I thought I knew what first class looked like. I’ve walked through the fancy reclining seats before, with their glasses of free champagne, on my way to the back in coach class, budget edition.
I had no idea there were whole other levels to first class. Or to planes in general.
“They only use these planes for longer-haul flights,” Ankor is explaining. “Like flying straight from Hawaii to New York City.”
We reach the top of the stairs, and I almost lose my shit all over again. There aren’t just seats up here—there are entire cabins. The flight attendant escorting us opens our cabin, and gestures for us to head inside.
I stare inside, open-mouthed. It’s like a mini hotel room up here, complete with lounge chairs and, next to those, a full-sized lie-down bed. King size, I’m pretty sure.
“You’ll find the menu card here,” the flight attendant is saying. “Our chef for the evening has prepared a full tasting menu, but of course, if there’s anything in particular you’d like, or if you have any food restrictions, just let us know.” He taps a panel near the recliner seats, and it opens up to reveal a mini fridge with a bottle of champagne inside. “Would you like me to open this for you now or after takeoff?”
“Oh, later is fine,” I say, blushing, not used to having people wait on me like this. It makes me feel ridiculous.
“Thank you,” Ankor says, and the flight attendant blushes, too.
“No, thank you, Mr. Helmtree. And again, for service, just press here. I’m afraid we’ll have to ask you to wait until after takeoff to utilize the bed portion of the cabin.”
“Of course.” Ankor smiles as the attendant wheels our door shut.
The moment it closes, I burst into laughter, doing a little twirl around the room. Because yeah, there’s enough room to twirl in. “This is nuts.”
“Wait until you see the penthouse,” he replies, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
My cheeks flush, and I drop into the seat nearest to the bed. “Ankor… Is your whole world like this? I mean…” I bite my lower lip. “Am I going to look like some out-of-place idiot the whole time?”
“Of course not.” He slides his hand into mine and squeezes. “We belong together. How could you possibly be out-of-place in my world?”
I press my lips together, unable to hide the little smile of pleasure at that. As we wait for takeoff, he shows me all the other features of the cabin—on top of a selection of movies, there’s a whole surround sound system that makes it feel like we’re immersed in whatever we’re watching. And there’s a mood setting that dims the lights and adds slow, jazzy music over those speakers.
As we taxi toward the runway, Ankor switches it to that mode, and reaches for the champagne.
“Don’t you want to get the flight attendant to do that?” I ask, smirking a little. “If you’re so used to being waited on…”
He laughs and plucks two champagne flutes from a chiller beside the fridge. “I’m rich; I’m not incompetent.” He leans a little closer to me and lowers his voice. “And, truth be told, after almost three months of pretending to be a pool boy, the attentiveness of the waitstaff is a bit much, here.”
I smirk.
Ankor pours me a flute as the plane takes off, then fixes himself one. We toast as the plane gains altitude, and sip together, just us and our private cabin and the slow beat of the music.
One glass goes down easy. Halfway through the second, and I’ve forgotten about how altitude makes drinks go to your head quicker. I lean toward Ankor, and he grins, leaning over to unfasten my seatbelt.
I gasp a little in pretend shock, eying the button over his head. “It didn’t say to unbutton yet.”
“Are you the cabin police?” His eyes sparkle with amusement. Then, gently, he draws me to my feet—the plane has almost leveled out anyway, and standing is easy.
At least, that’s what I’m thinking, as we hit a tiny patch of turbulence. Ankor catches me around the waist and pushes me down onto the bed, lying on top of me a moment later, his warm, strong, muscular body stretched along mine. His lips, when they dip to catch mine, taste like champagne. His tongue parts my lips and I inhale sharply, arching up against him, craving him, the same way I always do whenever he touches me.
