It’s a long, long week at the agency, and by the time I board Gideon’s plane at the airport, my eyes are burning. He gives me a long look and points toward the bedroom. “That’s where you’re headed as soon as we reach cruising altitude.”

In the meantime, I settle back into one of the plush leather seats in the main cabin and rest my head on his shoulder. “Where to this time?”

“No questions, please. I already ruined one surprise.” I can hear the smile in his voice.

“I’m mainly asking so I know how long I have to nap.”

“You can nap for as long as you want. If we land before you wake up, I’ll have you carried to—” He cuts himself off abruptly. “I’ll have you carried to our true destination like Sleeping Beauty.”

“I don’t think anybody carried her around,” I say with a yawn. “I think she slept in that same spot for a hundred years.”

He kisses my temple. “You’re right. Who am I to argue with you about fairy tales?”

I mean to reply, but my eyes droop closed. The last thing I hear is the whir of the engines as we take off, and then there’s only silence.

I wake up sometime later, my seat fully reclined, a pillow under my head, and a soft blanket pulled up to my shoulders. Gideon is nowhere to be seen—for about five seconds, and then he’s sliding into the seat next to me.

“You’re right on time.” His face is relaxed, with none of that odd post-wedding tension, and he looks perfectly refreshed.

I stretch, yawning one more time. “For what?”

“To land.”

“You let me sleep the entire flight?” I can’t find my phone—is it in my purse, on the seat in the other aisle, or— “What time is it?”

Gideon checks his watch. “About ten.”

“We spent five hours in flight and you didn’t wake me up once to make a visit to the bedroom?”

“You looked too peaceful. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

There’s a new energy arcing through my muscles. One nap, and I’ve recovered from the week at work. Plus, the sight of Gideon makes me want to be awake all night.

“So where are we landing?”

“You’ll see.”

When the plane touches down, the pilot announces that we’ve landed on Virgin Gorda Island, and the local temperature is seventy-five degrees. I can’t help doing a little dance in my seat. “I love this place.”

“Don’t get too attached. We’re not staying.”

My heart sinks a little, and then I get a grip. Gideon hasn’t planned any old vacation. He’s been working on this for two weeks, and here I am, getting ahead of myself. “All right.”

He puts two fingers under my chin and lifts my face to kiss me, pleasure rushing down my spine. “We’re going somewhere even better.”

“Is it somewhere we can get rid of these clothes?”

“You’d better believe it.”

The air is silky against my skin as we step out of the plane, the sunlight still lingering in the sky, and Gideon holds out his hand to our next mode of travel.

“We’re riding a helicopter?” 

He grins.

It’s not a long helicopter ride, and halfway through it, Gideon points down at an island below us in the dark sea, one bigger building lit up like a tropical castle. “Is that the resort?”

“That’s the Great House on Necker Island.”

“You rented us the Great House?” I know about the Great House. I know about Necker Island. I know that most of my clients dream of vacations on Necker Island, though few of them book here. It’s not an easy get.

Gideon looks at me for a long moment, a sexy grin slowly consuming his face, and my core goes molten hot. “I rented us the island.”

The island. The entire island. Unfathomable.

“Now you’re showing off.” I try to play it cool, but I can’t stop staring at the house, at the fading light over the island below.

“A little bit.”

We touch down a few minutes later, and a man in crisp shorts and a polo shirt that looks like it’s been ironed within an inch of its life leads us the short way to the Great House.

Gideon dismisses him as soon as we’re in the front door, and then he picks up the pace. My heart beats faster. I get glimpses of the massive home, decorated in a Balinese style I recognize from deep dives into hundreds of destination brochures. I recognize this place. Not in a million years did I ever think I would set foot here. And definitely not on the arm of Gideon Hawke. Even the trip to Virgin Gorda didn’t make me think this would happen.

But we’re rushing upstairs, and I know exactly where we’re going. 

The master bedroom looks exactly the way it does in the brochures—the massive bed, the white canopy, the loungers placed around the room at intervals in case you find yourself with a sudden need to lie down.

Gideon bypasses it all, and we move through the room to the terrace overlooking the ocean. The last rays of the sunset have bled out of the sky and the moon is rising. It would take my breath away if Gideon wasn’t sweeping me into his arms, crushing his mouth against mine, turning me into a liquid pool of heat. 

“This is all I’ve wanted all week,” he growls when we finally come up for air.

“You didn’t have to rent an island to get it.”

“I’d rent you a thousand islands, pretty thing.”

He moves us toward a double lounger with thick pillows, fully reclined, stripping my traveling outfit off as he goes. By the time he spreads me out on the white surface, the breeze is caressing every inch of my skin, leaving behind trails of goosebumps, and Gideon chases it all by kneeling at the side of the bench, spreading my legs wider with his hands, and dipping his head down to my pussy.

He strokes the length of his tongue over my slit, and I’m lost. Lost to pleasure, lost to the night, lost to him…and I never want to be found.