The first item on my agenda: ignore the flash of anxiety on Juliet’s face when I mention the word “paradise.” She hides it so quickly that I don’t comment on it.

I know she has exams on Monday. We’ve been walking a careful balance between total abandon and responsibility for the last ten days. More than once I’ve wanted to take my town car to Anderson and pull her out of class, find an empty room, and have her on her knees…and that’s just to start with. But even though she’s mine every evening and every night, I know there’s a hard line there, and that crossing it would be a mistake for the ages.

Gideon is right.

If I have any chance at extending this beyond two weeks—and Jesus, could I have been any more stupidly desperate?—I need to take drastic measures. 

I didn’t go back to the office after lunch. I called Sarah and had her postpone all my afternoon meetings. “Emergencies only,” I told her.

A note of concern had crept into her voice. “Did something happen, Mr. Grant?”

“I’ll be away for the weekend, and it’s essential that I not be disturbed for anything short of the building burning down.”

“Noted.”

Juliet might have let a second of hesitation slip across her face, but she scanned the streets with wide eyes as Dave drove us to LaGuardia. She took it in. “We’re flying somewhere?”

“There’s no such thing as paradise in New York City.”

“Your bedroom comes close.”

I gathered her in then, kissing her long enough for it to verge on combustion. “I’ve got something better to show you.”

“Something better” started with the private jet. The stewardess brought out champagne right away, along with dinner menus as lavish as anything I could buy her in the city. My private chef is standing by in the plane’s kitchen.

I’m pulling out all the stops. I can’t afford to do anything less.

It’s not until we’re at cruising altitude that Juliet finally cracks. We’re looking out at the sunset reflecting on miles of unbroken clouds, her head resting against my shoulder. “Weston?” There’s something tentative about her voice that I don’t quite recognize.

“What is it, angel?”

She takes in a deep breath. “All of this is incredible. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a plane this nice in my life.”

I let out a little laugh. “The plane is nothing compared to the destination.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second. It’s just that….” Her voice trails off, and her hand tightens on my bicep.

“You can tell me what’s on your mind. No matter what you say, I’m stuck with you at least until we land.” I keep my tone light, teasing, but she tenses against me.

“There are things I can’t miss back in the city on Monday.” A cold flash of fear spreads its fingers through my gut and dissipates.

I run my fingers through her hair and tilt her face up toward mine. The kiss starts out gently, but after a moment, a little moan escapes her mouth and she parts her lips for me, relaxing into my arms. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of the stewardess coming back into the cabin, then disappearing discreetly back out into the front.

“I know you don’t have much time,” I murmur into Juliet’s ear, my fingers tracing a pathway down the front of her tank top and circling one nipple, then the other. “I promise, we’ll be back before you miss a thing.”

Unless you ask me otherwise....

Then, because the way she nods is so pretty, so trusting, I sweep her into my arms and carry her into the bedroom at the back of the plane, her arms wrapped tightly around my neck, her laughter low and hot.

I explore Juliet like it’s the first time I’ve ever conquered her, paying attention to every creamy inch of her skin while she moans, spread wide for me on top of the comforter, her hands pressed against the headboard above her head. She’s wet and sweet, and I lick her folds in long strokes. She shudders with one orgasm, then another, her hips rising up from the comforter and falling back.

The instant I pull away, she turns over onto her hands and knees and lowers her head to the surface of the bed, pressing her ass back toward me.

“Fuck.” The word is half awe, half lust. When she bends for me this way—submitting so naturally, it’s like she’s been doing it all her adult life—it makes my cock pulse with the painful need to show her that she’s mine…over and over, again and again and again. I run my hands over her back, then tighten my grip on her hips. She spreads her legs another inch. “You have to know what you do to me, angel.”

“You—” She’s nearly breathless, her ass high in the air, pussy glistening, on display and loving every moment of it. “You made me this way.”

“Did I?”

“You’re the only one who—” She moans again as I trace two fingers over her hot slit, gathering her juices and then licking them clean.

“Stay where you are.” The command is enough to make her tense her muscles, bracing herself into the most delicious position on earth. “What were you saying, angel?”

Juliet has to breathe in and let it out before she can continue. “You’re the only man I’ve ever—I’ve ever—” I’ve taken my soaked fingers to the cleft between her ass cheeks, and I move them down slowly, a feather-light touch.

“Spread wider.”

Her legs move apart another couple of inches, and with my other hand, I open her cheeks. Now all of her is within my view. Juliet trembles under my touch, and another gush of wetness collects between her legs.

“You’re the only man I’ve ever wanted to be this way for,” she blurts out, and then my fingertips make contact with her asshole and she gasps out loud, her hips jerking forward a couple of inches.

“Relax.” I guide her back into position. “Good, angel. Good.”

I circle her tight hole one time, then again, and then I press one fingertip into her opening up to the first knuckle. “Oh….” It’s a low groan, but Juliet doesn’t move away. She holds herself in place, just like I told her. I sink the finger in farther. “Oh, this is…I’ve never….”

“Submitted like this?”

“No.” It’s almost a sigh.

I impale her another inch with my finger, stroking between her legs with my other hand. “Not for anyone but me?”

“Never for anyone but you.”

A flush of heat moves over my entire body. The finger is buried in Juliet now, and I slowly start to withdraw it. Then I press two fingers against her opening and wait, giving her a moment to adjust, to decide.

“Oh, please, Weston, please.”

“Please?”

“Please make me yours…I want you to have all of me.” She turns her head to the side, her cheek against the comforter. The last phrase is so soft that at first I think I’ve imagined it. “I love you.”