Colin, present day

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“Are you going to argue with me about this too?” he grumbled.

Cecilia glanced around, taking in the tall stone buildings that lined either side of the street. They’d driven by an open-air market and several roadside cafes before arriving at the flat Joanne had reserved for them in the Bergmannkiez neighborhood of Berlin. Just down the street, treetops were visible, signaling a park.

“No,” she murmured and her face went soft. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Good,” he said. “Next time you see Joanne, you can thank her. She picked it out.”

Cecilia huffed out a laugh. “You know most men would take credit for making their woman happy.”

Fuck if he didn’t love the way she’d declared herself to be his woman.

Not that it wasn’t true, but the sound of it coming off her lips was something special.

“So a flat is okay but not a plane ride?”

“A private jet ride is a little different from a few days in a flat. You redirected your jet so we could jaunt over to Berlin.” Cecilia rolled her eyes then snagged the keys from his hand to let them into the building. “We could have just hopped on a plane.”

“We did hop on a plane.”

“Your plane.” When she reached for her suitcase, he shooed her hand away, grabbing it and his bag. The rest of their luggage—their heavy snow gear—had been stored on the plane.

He tipped the driver, thanked him, and followed Cecilia inside the building. “What’s the point of owning a plane if it’s not at my beck and call?”

“What if the business needed it?” She shook her head and started climbing the stairs. “What if my little jaunt to Berlin did something to jeopardize your livelihood?”

Colin dropped the suitcases to the floor and climbed the few stairs between him and Cecilia. He snagged her hand, turning her to face him. “Is that what you’re worried about? Each of the major divisions has their own plane, sweetheart. The one we flew on is my personal jet.”

“I—” Her mouth opened and closed a few times, tempting him until he gave in to the urge to kiss it.

“Everything will be fine.” He bent a little to meet her gaze. “Always the truth, remember? I promise I won’t hold anything back, but you have to as well.” A kiss to her nose. “No brooding or throwing a fit when I want to give you a little treat.”

“Brooding is a male characteristic,” she said, testily. “And I’m not agreeing to being spoiled. If this”—she waved a hand around her—“is a little treat, then I’ll eat my hat.”

“That is a sexist comment.” He grinned. “And I’ll keep the spoiling in check if you promise to accept it graciously.”

“Fine,” she said, crossing her arms. “But that also goes in reverse. If I want to buy you something, you’ll accept it without grumbling.”

“Deal.” He snagged their suitcases and they climbed the rest of the stairs to the flat’s door. Once inside, he set the bags inside the hall, shoved the keys on top of them, and scooped Cecilia up into his arms. She squealed as he kissed her, swallowing the happy sound, before using his foot to make sure the door was shut. Then he carried her down the hall, checking each of the rooms before finally finding one with a bed.

He tossed her on the mattress and followed her down. “Now how about you accept something else without complaint?”

She smirked, wriggling and reaching into her back pocket before retrieving a condom with all the flourish of a magician pulling a rabbit from his top hat.

“I think I can do that,” she said, tugging down the zipper of his jeans.

“What time are we meeting your friend?” Colin asked the next day, running a towel over his hair as Cecilia shaved her legs in the shower.

They’d slipped into a comfortable pattern of living together, sharing space and even a bathroom without a moment of awkwardness. Though . . . he grinned, thinking of CeCe’s fantastic body covered in suds his hands had helped create in an effort to make sure she was clean, co-ed showers certainly helped that along.

“For a pre-dinner drink and then maybe a meal if she can stay away from work that long,” she said. “Heather’s as much of a workaholic as you.”

“Reformed,” he said. “Your man is a reformed workaholic.”

She peeked her head out of the shower curtain. “Who was up at three a.m. checking his emails.”

“Fine. Mostly reformed.” He kissed her, slipping a hand around the curtain to cup all his favorite curves.

“Mmm,” she said, leaning into him before jumping back with a screech. “That plastic is cold! Plus, as much as I like your mouth and hands and”—her eyes flicked down and she licked her lips, which pretty much turned his hard-on into blue balls—“certain other parts of your anatomy, I don’t want to be late to meet Heather.”

He rubbed his thumb across her nipple. “I can be quick.”

“No, you can’t,” she said with a smile. “Which is why I love you.”

Colin was grinning when she stiffened and her face went serious. “What is it?”

She dropped the curtain. “Nothing. I just—I had better finish shaving.”

Mentally repeating what she’d said gave him the insight he needed. He dropped his towel and slipped back inside the shower, carefully retrieving the razor from CeCe’s hand before gathering her into his arms. “I love you, sweetheart. I’ve told you, nothing you say will change that.”

She released a shuddering breath. “I know. It’s silly, it’s just last time I said that—”

He’d told her to leave.

“You don’t have to say it.” He wiped a thumb below her eye, swiping away the moisture there. “I know how you feel. But things are different now, and if it accidentally slips out, I’m not going to run for the hills or be too drunk and angry and stupid to not recognize your words for the wonderful gift they are.”

“Colin.”

“What?” He brushed back water dripping down her forehead.

“You absolutely slay me with your words.”

He waggled his eyebrows. “That’s because I’m amazing.”

She mock-scowled. “And modest too.” He grinned as he kissed her, feeling her answering smile against his lips. But then she gave him a little shove and tilted her head in the direction of the door. “Now get out of here, I’ve got to finish showering so we can meet Heather.”

“Okay,” he said, giving her a sad puppy dog look.

“None of that,” she declared, but her face was filled with amusement . . . that turned to heat when he trailed his hand down her front and slipped his fingers between her thighs.

“I’ll leave,” he said, giving her clit a teasing stroke before pulling away.

Her hand snaked out and caught his wrist, returning it to her heat. “Heather’s always late anyway,” she murmured. “She’ll get caught up in emails and ah . . .”

The rest of her words were lost on a moan.

They were late getting to the bar.