Page 66 of Most Likely to Deny Love

Iclicked Mia’s seatbelt into place, enjoying the way the simple motion gave me an excuse to lean close to her. She looked up at me through her lashes, that mix of amusement and exasperation I’d come to know well playing across her features.

“You know, I’ve been buckling my own seatbelt since I was five.”

“I’m aware.” I pressed a kiss to her lips, letting it linger a moment longer than necessary. When I pulled back, I caught the faintest flush on her cheeks. “But where’s the fun in that?”

I settled into my seat beside her, stretching my legs out as much as the first-class cabin allowed. Eight hours and twenty minutes until we landed at Charles de Gaulle. Every fucking minute would test my patience. Being close enough to Mia to touch her, to breathe in her scent, to kiss her, but not do anything else.

But still, she was finally mine for a full four days. No interruptions from work. No hiding in the shadows. No stolen moments between meetings. Just us, Paris, and everything I’d planned for her.

The cabin lights dimmed as the plane rolled away from the gate. In the darkness, I reached for her hand, savoring the freedom to openly intertwine our fingers.

She turned toward the window as we lifted off, her face illuminated by the scattering of city lights below.

The anticipation coiling inside me was almost unbearable. After weeks of stolen moments and restrained touches, I’d finally have her to myself, But I didn’t want to rush it the moment we landed. I wanted her rested, wanted to give her a taste of the city first, wanted our first time to be perfect. The merest whisper of the idea of having her sent heat coursing through me. If I wasn’t careful, I’d be dragging her to bed the second we entered the suite.

I shifted slightly, as my body reacted to the visions rolling around in my head. Maybe Mia sensed it, because she turned her head, her eyes questioning in the dim light.

“What are you thinking about?”

Everything. You. How you’ll look bathed in the golden light of Le Meurice’s suite. How you’ll sound saying my name as I take you against those floor to ceiling windows. How you’ll feel beneath me on silk sheets. How you’ll taste of French wine and pure sin when I kiss you at midnight.

“The view from our suite.” Not a lie. Just not the complete truth. “It’s going to be incredible.”

The glow in her eyes made my heart squeeze.

“I still can’t believe we’re actually doing this.”

Neither could I, sometimes. What had started as a calculated offer to help her navigate family pressure had become something far more consuming. The woman beside me had unraveled my careful control, made me want things I’d long convinced myself I didn’t need. Didn’t want. But now…

Those were dangerous thoughts, so I was glad when the plane leveled out, and the seatbelt sign dinked off. The flightattendant approached with the dinner menu, and I ordered for both of us. Coq au vin for Mia, steak for me. A bottle of Bordeaux to share.

The meal concluded, the cabin lights dimmed further for the overnight flight and Mia went off to the bathroom to change.

When she came back out, our seats had been converted into fully flat beds, covered with blankets and plush pillows.

“Holy fuck. This is nothing like the economy flights I’ve taken before.”

I smiled at her expression. “That was the point. In you get.”

She climbed in, scooting closer to the wall and stretching out. I never would have believed that flannel pajamas would be such a test for my self control.

“A girl could get used to this, I swear.”

“Enjoy it,” I told her, easing in beside her, doing my best to put some space between us. “You deserve every bit of luxury this weekend.”

She rolled onto her side to face me, her eyes reflecting the dim cabin lights. “Jack?”

“Hmm?”

“This trip is totally crazy. You know that, right?”

“Sure.”

“But thank you anyway.”

I reached across the small space between us to trace the curve of her cheek. “Don’t thank me yet.”

Her laugh was low, intimate, making my blood hum.

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