Imaad watched Annabelle watching their takeoff through the small window. She fascinated him far more than anything outside could, and besides, he could look out the window anytime. Annabelle was a far rarer gift.

She sighed, settling into the plush leather seat facing his. She sat rigidly, clasping her purse in her lap.

“You can relax, you know.” He propped an ankle over his knee. “We could even lie on the floor if we wanted. You can’t do that in commercial airliners.”

“I know.” She smiled briefly. “This is all just so much to take in.” She nibbled on her lip, avoiding his gaze. She’d carried a strange tension around her since boarding the private jet, one that he wanted to squeeze out of her in a hug.

Silence filled the cabin as the plane ascended into the sky. The pressure shifted, and Imaad swallowed a few times to get his ears to adjust.

“I just hate relying on people,” Annabelle blurted, fidgeting with the strap of her purse. “My father…your father…even you.”

Imaad smoothed his palm over his knee as he let her words sink in. “I’m not trying to endear myself to you.” Well, maybe a little, but it was the last reason on the list. “I just care for you, and I support your decision. I don’t think you’re beholden to me. I would never offer something with strings attached.”

Annabelle finally met his gaze, and the tenderness there nearly toppled him.

“I lost my mother when I was young,” he added more quietly. “I know what this must mean to you.”

Annabelle pinched her eyes shut and then unbuckled her seatbelt. She came over to him and crawled into his lap, nestling herself into the hollow of his legs, her forehead pressed against his chest. The warmth of her instantly soothed him, like a balm he hadn’t realized he needed.

“Much better,” he murmured, stroking her back. “This is where you need to sit all the time.”

She sighed. “You’re such a good man, Imaad.”

He lifted his brows. “You think so?”

“I know so. I knew it the second I met you. Even though you tried to act like an asshole, I still felt your goodness behind it.”

He feigned disappointment. “So I didn’t fool you?”

“Maybe for a second,” she said, slipping her fingers between the buttons of his white shirt. “Your dad was pissed you came, huh?”

“Livid,” Imaad said, brushing his lips against her hair. “But I’ll deal with that when I get back.”

A sweet moment of silence passed, and then Annabelle said, “This flight is pretty long, right?”

“Long enough to get a good night’s sleep.” Their plush chairs reclined back into something resembling a narrow bed. It was more comfortable than some hotel beds he’d been in.

“What if we do some relaxing before sleep?” She lifted a brow. Grinning, Imaad guided her to stand up while he reclined the seat, folding down the overstuffed arm rests so that their bed was ready.

“I want you to be on top,” she whispered, nudging him with her toe. There was something innocent there, something so sweet it made his chest hurt. He stood and unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it aside, while she sidled out of her clothes. When she was naked, she lay back on the seat, her silky blonde hair splayed out around her head.

Imaad pushed his slacks and briefs down, his cock springing into the air. She smiled when she saw it, welcoming him into her arms when he eased down on top. They kissed, slow and tender, for a long while, neither of them able to break the sweet stream of kisses. She whimpered and spread her legs wider, urging him onward, and he wiggled his hips into place until his cock settled right in the warmest, slickest spot.

She sighed, shuddery and low, dragging her fingers through his hair.

“This is way better than the coach class seat I booked,” she said, just as he pressed inside her. Her breath caught, and he buried his face in the hollow of her shoulder, soothed by the scent of rose and amber, her smooth skin, the feel of her nails digging into his neck. They made love, slow and intentional, their eyes locked as he thrust inside her. Her pussy was drenched and welcoming, their energy so sizzling that sometimes he felt like he could come just from imagining being inside her.

Her unhinged moan was the only thing he heard when he finally came inside her, the silky tightness of her pussy making his vision spotty and then blank.

She stroked his back while the pleasure made lazy circles inside him, like the calming waves in the remnants of a whirlpool.

“That…” she said after a long while, “was fucking intense.”

He captured her lips in a kiss. She was right—intense barely covered it. Which confirmed the furtive suspicion lurking deep inside him.

* * *

Annabelle wrung her hands as she and Imaad navigated the hallways of the bright, clean hospital. Thanks to their non-stop flight, she managed to make it there before her mother’s surgery. If she’d been on her original flight, her arrival time would have been in the middle of the procedure.

She paused, checking the signs on the wall again, and then took a left.

“I think we’re close,” Imaad said, his dark brows in a tense line. They’d met barely a week ago, but somehow, she knew he felt this as strongly as she did. Because of his own history, perhaps, but also because of the thing between them. Whatever it was, the thing didn’t make sense. But it was there. And it was becoming rapidly more real.

“Here it is.” She sighed with relief at seeing the signs for surgery prep and hurried toward room B231. Before she pushed inside, she turned to Imaad.

“I’ll wait out here,” he offered, before she could say anything.

“No. You should come in.” When he didn’t look convinced, she added, “You’re the whole reason I’m here on time. Just come.”

Imaad nodded, and she grabbed his hand before leading him inside the room. They stepped in, finding dim lighting and a large bed pushed up against the far wall. Her mother lay in the bed, hooked up to an IV, a machine at her side blinking dully.

“Mom.” Annabelle rushed to her side. Her mom smiled so wide it seemed like it might hurt. Her normally bright blonde hair looked gray in the lighting.

“My sweet baby,” her mom croaked, patting her hand. “You’re here. Why did you come? You didn’t have to come.”

“Like I wouldn’t!” She leaned forward, kissing her mom’s cheek. “I love you so much, Mom. Of course I have to be here.” She swallowed a knot in her throat, turning to beckon Imaad closer. “Mom, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

Imaad stepped forward, looking more boyish than she’d ever seen him. Her mom turned slightly, squinting up at him.

“This is Imaad,” Annabelle said. Imaad reached out to shake her mother’s hand, offering a polite smile. “He’s the whole reason I made it here on time. And we’re also engaged to be married.”

Her mother gasped, her eyes filling with tears as she looked between her and Imaad. “Oh, my baby! Are you really? To this handsome man?”

Imaad smiled widely, and Annabelle swore she caught a flush in his cheeks. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. Your daughter makes me insanely happy.”

Annabelle stared at Imaad for a moment, her voice totally lost. Was that true? And wasn’t it true for her, too?

“I always knew my Annabelle would find the pea to her pod,” her mother said, her words slow and labored. “She’s a pistol, but the right man can handle it.”

“Well, I found him,” she blurted, meeting Imaad’s gaze like she’d been caught red-handed. Her cheeks lit on fire but she couldn’t look away from him. “We found each other.”

Her mother cooed while Imaad squeezed her hand. Were they acting now? It sure didn’t feel like it. But maybe he was just going along with it.

“Mom, tell me about the surgery. What are they going to do?”

“There’s a growth on my lung. They’ll take it all out and then find out what it is. That’s all.”

Annabelle cocked a brow. “That’s all? That’s a lot.” Anxiety tightened her belly and she reached out for her mom’s hand, hoping she wouldn’t see the tears filling her eyes.

“Oh, I’ve survived worse than a little lung surgery,” her mom said, batting her hand in the air. “Breast cancer, skin cancer—I’ve got this, whatever it is.”

Annabelle grinned. Her mom’s indomitable spirit had kept her going this long as much as anything else had. A nurse came into the room, informing them that they would have to step out, since they’d be prepping her mother for surgery. “Okay, mom. We’ll be here when you wake up. I love you.”

“And it was a pleasure to meet you,” Imaad added, reaching out to hold her mother’s hand. His brown skin contrasted with her pale hand. “Once you’re out of surgery, we can get to know each other better.”

Annabelle kissed her mom’s forehead, and then she and Imaad exited the room quietly. They made their way to the small waiting room around the corner, furnished with a dozen chairs and a tiny beverage stand. If only there were beds in the waiting room, too. Her sleepless flight to New York had left her exhausted and dying for a pillow.

“Well,” she said, plunking down in a chair, looking up at Imaad. “Now we wait.”