Page 71 of Dreams and Desires

He grabs my hand and leads me out of the store, his grip reassuring. “You didn’t have to do that,” I mumble, my heart pounding.

“Yes, I did,” he replies. “You deserve better. And I know just the place.”

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When he said he knew a place, I wasn’t expecting to be entering a private Jet!

As we step onto the jet, I can't help but look around in awe. The luxurious interior gleams with polished wood and soft leather seats. Everything about it feels so surreal, like stepping into a different world.

“Welcome aboard,” Zade says, guiding me to one of the plush seats. “Make yourself comfortable.”

I settle into the seat, feeling my curves fill the space in a way that makes me feel both self-conscious and oddly regal. Zade takes a seat across from me, watching as I look out the window.

“We're actually flying somewhere just to shop?” I ask, disbelief coloring my tone.

Zade nods, a smile playing at his lips. “Yes, we are. You deserve something special.”

I blush, looking down at my hands. “I’m not used to this kind of treatment, Zade.”

“You’d better get used to it,” he replies gently. “You’re worth it, Juniper.”

The jet engines roar to life, and the plane begins to taxi down the runway. I grip the armrests, my knuckles turning white. Zade notices and reaches out to take my hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Juniper, what’s wrong?” he asks, leaning forward.

I inhale carefully, searching for a thread of composure inside. “I’ve got to tell you something.”

He looks at me intently. “What is it?”

I exhale slowly, focusing on the way his thumb moves lightly against the back of my hand. “It’s my first time on a plane,” I admit. “And I kind of hate them.”

He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t tease. He just leans closer and says, “You’re safe with me.”

The plane lifts, and I try to pretend it doesn’t feel like my stomach is being left behind on the runway. My grip on his hand tightens, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans in closer. He doesn’t let go.

After a few minutes, the jet levels out. The seatbelt light clicks off, and Zade stands without a word. He crosses the aisle and slides into the seat beside me. I expect him to say something cocky, something to break the moment, but he doesn’t. He just sits. Close enough for his knee to brush mine.

He turns toward me, that familiar spark in his eyes. “You okay?”

I nod, even though I’m not sure I am.

“Want a distraction?”

He drops his words to a hush, like he’s offering something real.

I don’t answer with words. I just glance over at him, and somehow that’s enough. He leans in, not all the way, not yet, but enough for me to feel the shift in the air between us. His hand lifts, brushing a strand of hair away from my cheek, and then he touches my jaw—just lightly—and I feel it everywhere.

“I want you to feel grounded,” he murmurs, words softened to something almost reverent. “Not just… distracted. Not lost.”

My eyes flutter closed for a second. When I open them, he’s watching me, like he’s waiting for permission.

I give it in the quietest way possible—I lean into him.

His hand slips to my waist, and he pulls megently into his lap. The motion is slow, careful, like he’s not sure I’ll let him. But I do. I settle there, my body fitting awkwardly and perfectly against his.

His arms wrap around me. His hand rests on my back, firm and calming, while the other presses lightly to my thigh. There’s no rush. No hurry to take anything further. Just warmth. Contact. Safety.

“Better?” he murmurs.

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