As soon as the plane took off and I’d had two glasses of complimentary Champagne—seriously, I’d never get used to how rich people live—Carson drained his glass, pressed both our seats into the reclining position, and pulled me in close, resting his chin on my head.

A few minutes later, his breath slowed and his hand relaxed in mine. I guess he’d gotten even less sleep than I had last night and he needed it now.

I hated to say it, but I was kind of glad Carson had crashed so quickly and stayed asleep most of the trip. I just wasn’t ready to talk about anything too serious—I needed a chance to figure out some stuff for myself.

I dozed a little, wiggled out of his grip, and read the in-flight magazine, glancing over at him after every few pages to make sure he was okay. He twitched a lot, his brows came together, and he mouthed things I couldn’t make out.

By the time I’d figured out what overpriced and useless things I wanted to buy from the catalogue very generously offered by the airline, the flight attendant announced they’d be around for one last round of drinks before we landed.

Hmm… I really wanted another glass of Champagne, especially considering how much Carson must have paid for these seats. But if I did, I’d pee my pants. With my luck, the flight attendant would announce over the speaker system that more warm towels were needed in first class because someone had a bit too much bubbly.

I unclipped my seatbelt and tried to get past Carson without waking him up. With whatever kind of sixth sense he had wherever my ass was concerned, he woke up right when it was in front of his face and grabbed it. I squealed and looked around at the other passengers, hoping no one had seen him grope me and yank me into his lap.

“Let go, Carson. I really don’t want to pee on you.”

He wiped his eyes and looked at me, confused. I think he’d forgotten where we were. I used the seat back in front of me to pull myself off him and walked down the aisle as quickly as I could. My legs were stiff from sitting so long. I must have looked really first-classy teetering down the aisle with my thighs squeezed together and my feet apart so I didn’t accidentally fall into someone else’s lap.

Once I’d avoided an international embarrassment, I went back to my seat. The flight attendant was bent over, talking to Carson. Or maybe she wasn’t talking. Maybe she was just showing him her tits—I couldn’t be sure. That was one thing I hated about being with him—women seemed to not understand or not care that he was taken.

It had occurred to me on numerous occasions they must think I was his sister or something, because they hit on him either right in front of me or as soon as my back was turned. And it really kind of pissed me off. Whatever happened to the girl code? Wasn’t it international?

“Excuse me.” I tapped the woman on the shoulder and rolled my eyes, my other hand bracing on the back of the seat next to me. “That’s my seat”—I pointed past her—“and that’s my man.” I pointed to Carson. “You’d know better than me, but don’t property rights go beyond international boundaries?”

“I…um…” Huh. Evidently embarrassed stuttering is universal.

I looked at Carson. “Sorry for calling you my property.”

He shrugged. “I thought it was hot. Although it would’ve been hotter if you’d claimed me first and then your seat.” He reached around the attendant to take my hand. “Do you want anything else to drink?”

The woman’s smile tightened but she backed off, and I wasn’t ashamed to admit feeling a large amount of superiority when he pulled me into his lap.

“I’d love some coffee.”

“Good idea. I’ll have some, too.”

“Then I’ll go get you some,” she snapped and wandered off.

I was definitely going to make Carson share his coffee with me. At least his wouldn’t have spit in it.

“I can’t believe she hit on you!” I crawled off him and into my own seat, straightening my top. “I was already using the damn bathroom. Where did she plan on fucking you?”

“She wasn’t hitting on me.”

“Liar.”

He smirked. “Actually, my love, we were talking about how long you and I have been together. She thought we looked great together. So if she really was hitting on me, she wanted something a lot hotter than just her and I. But if there’s a way all three of us could fit in one of those bathrooms…” He raised his hand as if to wave her back over.

“Pervert.” I smacked him as he laughed. “So I owe her an apology for being a bitch to her.”

“Maybe a little one.”

I smacked him again, and he laughed again.

“Hey!” He rubbed where I’d hit him, as if it had actually hurt him. “I meant a little apology, not a little bitch.”

“Sure you did. Just for that, you’re not getting your threesome.”

“I’ll live.” His lips brushed the top of my head when I leaned in close to kiss the horrible injury I’d caused him. “I have to work my ass off to keep you happy. No way I’m up to adding anyone else in. Plus, fair’s fair. If I wanted to invite another woman into our bed, you’d be allowed to invite another guy. And that’ll never be up for negotiation.”

“Even for my birthday?” I teased.

“Hell, no.” One eyebrow bounced while he spoke. With Carson, that was like seeing a neon billboard that said “DANGER” in all caps. “I have something much better planned for your birthday.”

“An orgy?”

He grimaced. “Fuck no! I can’t even stomach that in porn. Do you have any idea how sticky you’d get at one of those things? And what fluids would make you sticky?” He shivered dramatically. “Quick, talk about something else.”

“Okay, let’s talk about your brother.”

“Agh!” He clenched his eyes shut. “You can’t go from an orgy discussion straight to my brother, Lane. Have you no pity on a man’s overactive imagination? It takes at least three steps to get a man to stop thinking about sex—you know that!”

“I do now. Okay, orgy…stickiness…um…” I guess it really was hard being a man. “Tape…video…”

“Not helping—video and sex go hand in hand.”

“Everything and sex goes hand in hand with you.”

“Not anymore. I haven’t needed to use my hand on myself in eons. Although they get plenty of action on your beautiful body, and— Damn it. That’s not helping. Say something totally unsexy.”

“You have a superhuman ability to connect every word in the English language to sex.” But I tried again, because he was so cute when he squirmed. “Okay, where were we? Um…video…wedding video…are Andi and Hayden having anyone tape the ceremony?” I smiled, my hands up, hoping it was enough.

“Not your best work. But I think I’m over it. And no, Eric is taking pictures but I don’t think they’re doing a video. Is that important?”

“To have a record of their wedding? I would think so. Wouldn’t you want to…?” And then I regretted changing the topic—the last thing I wanted to discuss was what he wanted at his wedding. At least not until we’d discussed it. And…

Huh…

Yeah, I guess that was how conversations actually happened, wasn’t it? And it would be been a lot more natural than having the pressure of a sit-down-stare-at-each-other-and-have-the-big-talk conversation.

Maybe the moment could still be salvaged. “We could talk about the future until we land.”

He nodded, but before he had a chance to say anything, the plane jerked, and a flight attendant’s voice came over the intercom system.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land in Fa’a’ā International Airport. Please make sure your seatbelts are securely fastened…” And then more about coming around to pick up trash and make sure we were properly stowed or something.

So much for our coffee and spit. Well, at least I didn’t feel as bad for being rude to her.

Then three different voices speaking the three different languages used on the island came on: “Mesdames et Messieurs, mau Vahine e Homa, Ladies and Gentlemen. Bienvenue à Tahiti. Maeva i te Tahiti. Welcome to Tahiti.”

“By the time we get a chance to talk about the future,” he said, “it won’t be the future anymore.”

“And we’ll actually be living it, not talking about it.”

He turned his body toward me. “This isn’t anything official, but I need to know—yes or no.” He swallowed. “Do you believe we have a future together?”

“Yes,” I said without thinking. “I can’t imagine my life without you. But we still have a lot of stuff to work on before—”

“Sorry,” he said, his smile stopping my heart for a second. “I quit listening after you said yes. We’ll deal with the rest of it later.” He faced forward again and let out a long breath, ignoring the fuss of the passengers around us as they gathered their stuff and crowded the aisle. People were pushing up against the curtain dividing first class from coach, as if it were a magical barrier no regular person could cross.

I didn’t know what Carson was thinking, but he seemed satisfied to hold my hand in both of his until everyone had filed out of the plane.

“You ready?” he asked after he’d taken our carry-ons from the attendant.

Obviously, he was referring to getting off the airplane but, in that simple statement, I heard so much more.

Was I ready for the next step? Was I ready to commit to forever? Was I ready to try blending two very separate pieces of my life? My past and my future.

He leaned in for a quick kiss. “Come on! If we don’t leave now, we might miss the whole ‘Bye. Bye! Thanks for flying with us,’ line. That’s the best part of traveling. But you have to wait until they’ve said it about seven hundred times and start using different accents to make it less boring. You ready?”

“Yeah. I think I finally am.” Saying anything else was unnecessary. For now.