This last week had been one headache after the other. Lucas was pissed that I’d kissed Graham in public. I told him I was sorry and that maybe he could start taking the blonde he’d been fucking to functions instead.

The gallery had become a hangout for people trying to take my picture. I closed it on Wednesday and hadn’t been back all week after someone tried to follow me inside.

The day after the event that started all this ruckus, Graham flew to LA for whatever meetings he had. He’d been gone all week.

Reena was preparing for a big hearing, and we only spoke in snatches.

So, I woke up on this otherwise perfectly beautiful Saturday morning and I was in a bad mood. When my doorbell chimed at eight-thirty, I’d stomped to the door ready to tell whoever it is to go away. I kept the chain in place and peered out into the hallway.

A man in a black suit and dark sunglasses stood on my doorstep. “Ms. Locklear, I’m Victor. Mr. Davis sent me to fetch you.”

“Riiiiiiight,” I drawled sarcastically. These people were obsessed with Graham and me. “I suppose I’m just supposed to come with you and you’ll take me to him,” I say.

“Yes, ma’am. I have instructions to ask you to wear something comfortable and that you don’t need anything but your phone.”

It’s too early for this shit. “Listen, I don’t know who you work for. Just go. And tell whoever you work for that if I see you around here again, I’ll call the cops.”

I slam the door in his face, turn the deadbolt and sit down at my dining room table and try to think how I’m going to get coffee without leaving the house.

My phone rings and I smile when I see my baby’s face on the screen. “Oh my God, please tell me you’re on your way home, some weirdo pretending to be a driver just tried to kidnap me and sell me,” I sigh lethargically. I look at my toes and wiggle them.

“What?”

“Do you think I should get a pedicure today or wait until Wednesday when they’re not so busy?” I ask Graham.

He chuckles. “You sound awfully chill for someone who just beat off a would-be kidnapper.”

I walk over to my couch and drop onto it. “I didn’t let him in. I slammed the door in his face. When are you coming back?”

“I’m calling because Victor called to say you told him you’d call the cops on him.” I sit up, immediately alert.

“He works for you? He’s legit?” I ask.

“Very. Get dressed. Don’t pack any other clothes. Bring your phone and your kindle. I’ll see you soon.” The line goes dead. I stare at the screen for a minute and then I squeal.

Oh my God. This is it!

We are finally going to fuck.

I stand up and shimmy a little before I dash back to my door and open it.

“Hi, Victor,” I say to the man standing patiently in the doorway.

“Ma’am,” he says, smiling.

“I’m sorry. It’s early. I haven’t had coffee. I apologize.”

“Not at all. It’s better to be skeptical. And we can stop for coffee on the way to Teterboro.”

“The airport? In New Jersey?”

“Yes, Ms. Locklear. My car is downstairs. It’s the dark gray SUV parked right in front of your door with the hazards on.”

“Okay. I’ll be down in a minute. And by a minute, I mean, more like ten.”

“Take your time.” He nods his dark head and turns to leave.

I shut the door and then lean back against it.

“Oh, yeah. I am so ready.”

“Put on your big girl panties, Apollo,” I tell myself before I start to climb the steps of Graham’s plane. Our flight leaves in an hour, and they invited me to board. He’s not here yet, and my legs wobble a little as I climb the steps.

“Welcome aboard, Ms. Locklear.” A pretty blonde woman in a startling white skirt suit smiles widely as I step into the galley.

“You were … expecting me?” I return her smile, but inside, my nerves are going crazy.

“Of course,” she says chirpily.

My nerves turn to bubbles of anticipation.

God, I love him so much. I could swoon from the shivers that run up my spine just thinking about seeing him again.

“I’m Victoria, and I’m one of three crew on board this flight. May I take your bag?” I hand her the small carry-on I’m rolling behind. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” She smiles like she means it. “You can make yourself comfortable in the main cabin. On the other side of the rear wall, there’s a master bedroom with a queen-sized bed and en suite bathroom that you can use to freshen up if you’d like. We only ask that you remain seated during takeoff and landing. You can help yourself to any of the refreshments we’ve laid out. And there’s a menu tucked into the pockets on the side of your seat. Mr. Davis already ordered your lunch, but feel free to peruse in case you’d like us to prepare anything else.” She rattles off her spiel and somehow manages to make it sound like I’m the first and only person she’s ever said it to.

“Thank you.” I smile pleasantly and slip out of my coat and run my hand down the front of my white dress and smooth my hair down.

I step inside the cabin and stop dead in my tracks. My trust income provides me with a very handsome living and the gallery turns a healthy profit every month, but for me, traveling in style means upgrading to first class. This plane is the epitome of luxury. I step into what looks more like an elegantly decorated living room than it does a plane. A pair of cream sofas, both littered with red cushions face each other in the center of the room. On the left of the cabin, under a row of large windows, is a long table. It is lined with platters of food and every kind of bottled drink ever made. Behind it is a booth, like what you’d find in a restaurant, except the cushions are royal blue velvet trimmed with gold brocade and the table in between is a glass top and set with very formal place settings. On the other side of the room is a bar. Fully stocked with four stools in front of it.

The room has a wall that has a door on either side. A huge television is mounted on it. A message is displayed on teh screen. “Welcome aboard the Dream Jet, Mr. Davis and Ms. Locklear. Our flight time today is three hours and twenty-five minutes. We will land in Miami at approximately two p.m. pacific standard time. Your drive to Islamorada will be approximately two hours.”

We’re going to Islamorada. And we’ll be on the plane alone for three hours.

I walk over to the row of white leather and red trimmed chairs that face the screen, sit down, cross my legs, and wait.

Thirty minutes later, I’ve made myself crazy and feel like I’m coming out of my skin. I jump up every time I heard a voice from the galley. All I’ve succeeded in doing is making myself look like I’m high on amphetamines and terrifying the poor crew members I’ve practically pounced on. After the fourth time, Victoria brings me a glass of wine. That was three glasses ago. I’ve chewed my bottom lip raw. My hair, which when I’d boarded was fabulously blown out, is now gathered into a messy bun on top of my head.

“Graham, I’m at the airport,” I say as soon as the call engages.

“I know, Sunshine.” I scream and toss my phone in the air before I pop out my seat and turn around.

Graham is standing in the doorway that leads to the galley of the plane. My chest is heaving with excitement and anxiety as I take him in. He’s wearing a dark green cable knife sweater that accentuates the broad set of shoulders and the gradual tapering of his waist where his lean hips are, and long, strong legs are encased in dark denim. His hair is held back in a bun, and his beard is gone. He looks good enough to climb. He clears his throat, and my eyes fly back to his face where he’s watching me with a raised eyebrow.

“Like what you see?” He crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the wall.

“A lot.” I square my shoulders and lift my chin, and his eyes scan me from head to toe. My white patent leather pointed toe Jimmy Choos are the exact color of my dress. Despite the freezing temperature, I kept my legs bare. His gaze is leisurely lingering where it wants. As it drifts past my hips, my thighs clench, my stomach muscles contract and then my nipples tighten when his icy gray perusal lingers on them.

When he finally reaches my eyes, I’m struggling not to squirm at the banked heat in his gaze. I feel a flush creeping up my neck, and I brush the stray hairs off my neck.

“Mr. Davis, Ms. Locklear.” Victoria’s head pokes into the cabin.

We both start slightly and share a small smile, his is full of wicked promise, before we reluctantly turn to look at her.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she flushes and drops her gaze to the carpeted floor briefly before she looks back at us. Her smile is composed again.

“We’re going to be taking off in just a few minutes. Can you take your seats and buckle up? As soon as we’re airborne, you’ll be free to use the plane as you wish. May I offer you another drink before we take off?”

“Can I please have a glass of water?” I ask her.

“I’m fine for now,” he tells her.

“Okay, you buckle in, and I’ll pour you a glass of water.” ‘Than--” His phone rings and he holds up a finger and walks over to sit.

I smile weakly at the buzzkilling Victoria and take my seat next to Graham’s.

He’s got his phone to his ear. “Hey, Dean. Yeah, it was good. Apollo and I are headed to Islamorada for the weekend. Hold off on sending that letter until I get back. My flight’s taking off. I’ll call you when I land. Bye.”

He turns to look at me. “I’m tired. I want to close my eyes for half an hour, okay?” he asks and I yawn, too.

“Sounds good.” I’ve just closed my eyes when his hand touches my arm.

I turn my sleepy eyes toward him and suck in a sharp breath at intense expression in his eyes.

“When we wake up, I’m going to take you to that bed back there, and I’m going to put my mouth on every single inch of your body. And then, I’m going to bury my cock into that sweet pussy that the universe made just for me.” His voice is low, dark, and sultry. I shiver and nod. He lays and a few minutes later, I hear his breathing deepen. I close my eyes and start counting the minutes.

Two hours later, I scowl at Graham as I stand up to walk to the bathroom. All that talk and I’ve been waiting for him to wake up for the last hour. I stand up and walk past his seat to the door marked as the lavatory.

A small scream rips from my throat when his hand darts out, snags me by the waist and drags me backward until I’m sitting in his lap.

The scream morphs into a giggle when he buries his face in the back of my neck, his jaw still smooth from his shave this morning. His lips tease my skin, and I gasp when I feel his rock-hard erection pressing into my ass. I rock back and forth, and my dress rides up.

“Where you going?” he murmurs into my neck before he sinks his teeth into me.

“Ohhhh.” My moan is short and breathless. “I can’t remember,” I murmur.

I whimper when his hand slips into my hair and groan when he fists it and tugs my head back until it rests on his shoulders. I spread my thighs so my legs straddle his.

“Stand up,” he orders gruffly into my ear and then releases me.

I scoot off his lap and do as he asks.

As soon as I’m standing, I feel the zipper of my dress coming down. The tips of his fingers trail down my back as the fabric falls away. “Your skin is so beautiful, Sunshine.

“Take it off and turn around,” he commands softly. I peel the dress off my shoulders, and it falls into a pool of fabric around my ankles. I step out of it and turn around. His eyes are hooded as he watches me. My pussy quivers.

Oh, yes. I’m so ready. I take a deep breath and take a step toward my future.