"Have you ever flown before?"

Before she answers, Lilah yawns wide, and loud. I don't think she expected me knocking on her door at five in the morning. The boys were already up. Jason has a week before summer school starts. That means a week out at the country house. I think I can manage some time off, even with the demonstration in less than a month. What better time?

I’ll make any excuse for her. Gladly.

She shakes her head, bleary-eyed. The air has taken a sharp turn for the warm, and she's in jeans and a loose-fitting polo shirt that hints at her curves in just the right way. She yawns wide again and rolls in the seat, leaning it back. The denim hugs her legs, reminding me of the light marks I left on her thighs with my fingers.

"Don't sleep now," I tell her. "It doesn't take the edge off. It just makes the rest of the day worse."

She waves a dismissive hand at me and yawns loudly, trying to pillow her head into the headrest.

I prefer to drive out to the airfield. As in, operate the car myself. The electric model is smooth and silent—and fast and nimble—but I'd rather not test it with the sleepy Lilah in the front seat with me and the boys in the back. They've nodded off, leaning against each other, and a sharp turn or abrupt maneuver might whap their heads together.

Lilah is so gorgeous in the morning light, a perfect mix of ingénue and vixen. Though I suppose ingénue doesn't really apply to her anymore. I took care of that last night, and I feel my blood heating up when I think about her tightness around me, the way she gripped me with her legs, and the feel of her teeth on my skin. There's something wild in her, and I'm going to take my time waking that side of her. She dipped into it last night when she was craving my hand on her ass. I can't stop thinking about her perfectly muscled ass, skin buttery soft under my fingers.

If she had any idea what I have in mind for her… She'll be begging for it soon enough. She's fallen asleep, of course, just as I turn off the road onto the airfield.

North of the city there's a smaller airport, well away from Philly International, mainly for private pilots like me. I nudge Lilah even as she bats at the offending hand like an annoyed cat, until she sits up and blinks her bleary eyes.

"Whuh?" she says.

"We're at the airport. Come on."

There's no check-in through security here. I sent our bags ahead anyway. In truth we could just drive, but the boys love flying, and I can't resist the chance.

My plane is a small one, a four-seater turboprop Cessna. It was my first big indulgence, when I was still technically working for Roland. Delilah eyes it, wary.

"Is this thing safe?"

"Perfectly. I'm going to run all the checks right now. Climb in."

She has to duck and squirm to get into the front seat. She looks at the yoke—there's one on each side—warily. The boys scramble in behind us.

After I finish the exterior checks I climb into the seat and put on my headset, motioning for her to do the same.

"You've really never flown before?"

She shakes her head and stares through the windows. “We always took the train. Coming down here was the first time I ever traveled alone. Alone-ish. I had my father’s watchdog with me. Mrs. Heemeyer.”

“I can barely believe you’ve never flown.”

“But you can believe it.” She sighs.

"Want a drink?"

"I'm not thirsty."

"I mean a little nip to calm your nerves. I've got a small bottle of vodka stowed away for nervous passengers."

"No, thanks," she says, her voice growing more high strung with every word.

I touch her shoulder. "We can just drive, if you'd rather."

"Didn't you file a flight plan or something? Let's do this."

The engine starts, and I run through the final checks. Lilah tucks herself into her seat and stares straight down at the instruments.

"We'll be taking off in a minute."

She jumps when we start to move.

"We're still on the ground," I reassure her. "Not time yet. We have to wait."

Lilah nods.

"I won't think anything less of you if—"

"Just shut up and fly," she snaps, folding on herself.

I rest my hand on her leg, cupping her knee. She relaxes under my grip.

“Trust me,” I murmur.

She gives another nod, flushing with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to…”

“I know. It’ll be fine.”

After a brief chat with the tower, it's time for takeoff. I take the runway and start to throttle up, and Lilah claws the side of her seat as if it wronged her. I can see her tensing and question whether I should just wave off and insist we drive instead, but now I'm committed.

The front gear comes up, and the plane wobbles as the wings catch the air and lift us up.

"This is all normal," I reassure her. “Everything is going fine. We will sway a little, yaw back and forth.”

“Yaw?”

“Pitch and yaw,” I demonstrate with my hand. “Flying terms.”

She nods vigorously, going a little green as her strategy of staring at the instrument panel fails her. The plane noses up, and there is only blue sky ahead. Lilah leans back now, unfocusing her eyes.

I'm busy with getting us airborne. Once we reach our altitude she relaxes, letting out a breath that she held so long she should have passed out. She slumps in the seat and leans over, taking her first look down, then jerks away.

"It's not as bad as I thought," she says. I can only hear her through the headset.

"It's not as bad as you expect. It's a mental thing. Once you get to a certain height, your brain can't process it as altitude, and it doesn't look real. It's almost peaceful, don't you think?"

She nods. "Yes. Almost."

"At least, until you have to bail out. Want to try skydiving?"

Her head snaps around so hard it almost throws her headset off. The look on her face flickers between surprise and rage.

"I didn't mean now," I throw in.

She glares at me, but there’s no heat in it. The corners of her lips twitch, and it takes every ounce of willpower I have not to grab her and plant a little kiss on both sides of her mouth.

"I'm not jumping out of a perfectly good airplane."

"Don't knock it till you've tried it,” I say.

"Don't mind if I do," she says. She glances at my hands as I control the yoke. "What's that like?"

"Freeing. Truth is, I prefer my biplane."

"Biplane? Like World War I?"

"Exactly. I own a small collection of replicas of fighter planes of the era. No machine guns and bombs, of course."

She swallows. "You're not getting me into a biplane."

"I'll bet by the time we get home you'll be begging for my biplane."

Alarmed, she glances over her shoulder.

"Private channel on the headset," I reassure her. "Boys can't hear us. Too loud."

She sits back in her seat anyway, heat flaring on her cheeks. "We should tell them something."

"Should we? We're an item now?"

She gives me a wry look. "I don't know. Maybe we are. I'm still angry with you."

"Oh, boo, you are not."

She rolls her eyes. "I’m conceptually angry. How long does this take?"

"Airspeed is around three hundred miles per hour, so about forty-five minutes. We're not flying far."

"What airport are we flying into?"

"We aren't. I have my own airfield on the estate. I'll have to talk to the tower out at Pittsburgh, though."

She says nothing, staring out through the windscreen.

"Want to try?" I offer.

"What."

"Put your hands on the yoke."

"What?"

"I'll work the rudder. You just hold it steady. Go on."

Lilah looks at me, the yoke in front of her, me again. She reaches out as if she's about to tap a venomous snake on the head and takes hold of the flight controls.

"Don't try to take over yet. Just feel how it moves under my control. Close your eyes. I'll tell you when to open them."

Her hands move with mine as I make subtle adjustments. We have a slight tailwind, but the air is calm and clear.

"Open them."

She glances over and sees my hands are in my lap and snaps her gaze forward, red creeping up her cheeks.

"I'm flying," she says.

"You sure are," I tell her.

I let her hold the yoke for about ten minutes or so before I take over and she relaxes back into her seat and blows out a slow breath. A giggle escapes her lips.

"There's so many things we can do in life if we have the courage to try. You're going to love the biplanes."

She glares at me again and narrows her shoulders, taking a petulant cross-armed pose worth of a Renaissance master's finest work. I have a sudden ludicrous urge to commission a painting of her.

Eventually her head lolls to the side, and she falls asleep. I'm the only one awake. Just me, the open sky, and the three most important people in the world.

The descent wakes her. Lilah jolts awake as she feels the plane tip back.

"Why are you pulling up if we're going down?" she asks, sharply.

"Touch down the rear landing gear first," I tell her, too deep in concentration for conversation. "Everything's going great. It'll be a few bumps as we land, but it's all normal, I promise. That bottle of vodka is under the dash if you need it."

She shakes her head and closes her eyes.

I could swear she doesn't breathe until she feels the front gear touch down. She cries out for the first, and only time, when a small wind shear from the pines, and the spotty grip of the tires as they take the weight of the plane, jerks us sideways. She relaxes when I slow us down and finally come to a stop.

My crew runs out to chock the wheels, and I settle back into the seat. "Successful landing."

"I hate you," she chirps.

I laugh and rub her arm. For someone who just said she hates me, she doesn't look it.

This isn't what I was expecting. Go ahead, judge me, but when he said country estate I visualized a huge, sprawling mansion with wings and a portico and a courtyard and all the rest. This…is a house.

Not an especially large house. I'd almost call it cute. Tudor style, the house—or cabin?—is situated in a rolling valley between two hills. Mountains sweep off in the distance, giving the whole place a pastoral, inviting feel. Of course, it wouldn't be Aiden's land if there weren't windmills on the hills or solar panels arrayed on top of and beside the house. The boys run ahead on the dirt path from the airfield while Aiden walks beside me, bag slung over one shoulder.

"I didn't bring much to wear," I tell him, idly.

“I’ll have you in a bathing suit, or nothing. As it happens, I have nothing in my room.”

I laugh. “Very cute. Seriously, though, I need some changes of clothes.”

"I had your room stocked."

"My room?” I lower my voice. “You mean we're not sharing?"

"Not yet," he says. "I didn’t want to assume."

"What do you want to do?"

"I want to find you in my bed with only the sheets covering your modesty and a rose clenched between your teeth."

Laughter bursts out of my chest, but heat creeps into my cheeks, too. It's not a bad idea, all things considered. Everything has changed for me this morning. I've never felt so comfortable in the presence of another human being in my entire life, or so happy in my own skin. I should have done this sooner, I almost think, but I was waiting for someone.

No, not someone. Him.

It's so quiet here. The space is wide open, but it feels tight, intimate, just the two of us walking down a garden path with the boys running ahead, eager to get out of the blinding sunlight into the shade of the house. Aiden fishes out a key and lets them run loose inside, and ushers me in, a hand looped about my waist.

Something changes as I enter, like pushing through a barrier. I feel it sweep around my shoulders, tingling on my neck. The inside of the house is no grander than the outside. It's cozy, and I could see myself enjoying a winter day curled up next to that fireplace with a blanket and a book. A soft smile curls on my lips.

I realize Aiden is watching me. "You like it?"

I nod.

"It's a little stuffy in here. Help me with the windows, will you?"

"I'm surprised they don't go up on their own."

"I need a break from that now and again," he says. "Sometimes you just want simplicity."

I spend the next ten minutes going around the house throwing up all the sashes. It serves to give me a self-guided tour. A warm breeze flows through every corner of the structure. I find myself more in love with it with every room. The country kitchen is wonderful, complete with a huge hearth and pots and pans hanging overhead.

Aiden finds me there. "Feeling at home?"

"Yes," I admit, glancing around. "Where are the boys?"

"Settling in to their rooms."

"So is this a vacation, or are you working?"

"Not working today, but I'll take care of a few things while we're here. The demonstration is coming up soon. No rest for the wicked."

His smile widens, and he steps forward, settling his arms around my waist. He plants a soft kiss on my lips, and the moment draws out into a warm eternity, my head resting on his chest. After the excitement of the plane ride I need a few moments to catch up.

His butt vibrates.

Sighing, Aiden pulls out his phone and checks the number.

"Yes, Maria?" he says, still resting one arm around my waist.

He draws away as he turns into the phone, his voice tight. "Fine. Put her through."

He takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Hello, Gloria. Yes, I am. No, I'm not hiding them from you. No, no, two weeks as we agreed. I understand. Yes. Jason has his summer school. No, I didn't let him… I'm taking care of it. Yes, I have the date. I have to go, very busy."

He hangs up and shoves his phone back in place with an exasperated shake of his head.

"What was that about?"

"The boys’ aunt," he says. "Gloria. We weren't close when Hailey was alive, but I let her take the boys for a couple of weeks here and there. I worry about the effect it'll have on them, but it's more in my head than anything else."

Alive. I catch on that word and squeeze it, trembling a little. I didn't think to ask, and now I feel so stupid. Of course there has to be some reason Jason and Tim's mother isn’t around. I figured it was divorce. He doesn’t wear a ring.

What happened to her?

The question is on the edge of my tongue, and I bite my lip to hold it in. Aiden is pained for a brief moment, before he touches his lips to my forehead.

"Hungry?" he says. "We skipped breakfast."

I touch my stomach. After the plane ride I'm not exactly eager for food, but the boys overrule me, surging into the kitchen with eager demands. Aiden throws open the vast, well-stocked fridge and begins crafting sandwiches. He drops a turkey club on me before I have time to protest, and the four of us eat in relative silence.

The boys are acting different. They know something is up, even if Aiden thinks them oblivious. Jason, in particular, is watching us. Watching me.

"Nature walk?" Aiden asks as I push half my sandwich away.

Tim looks eager. Jason groans.

"Nature walk," Aiden decides, without waiting for our input.

“Mind if I bring my sketchbook?” I ask.

“Sure,” Aiden says. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

I change into a pair of sneakers and follow them outside, pulling on a straw hat. The air is warm on my shoulders, but the breeze keeps it from turning too hot.

"How big is this place?"

"Big," Aiden says. "This way."

He leads the way up a cobbled path across a wide field and into the woods. The two boys naturally move ahead, opening the distance before warily letting us catch up.

I keep pace with Aiden, moving closer then pulling apart, again and again. Our hands brush, almost close around one another, but there's still something keeping us apart now.

"You should talk to them," I tell him.

"I know," he says. "I'm not sure how they'll take it. I haven't been with anyone since their mother."

"You haven't told me anything about her."

"What did you want to know?"

I stare down at the stone path. "I know she existed. I'm not dumb. The boys came from somewhere, after all."

He laughs, but there’s little humor in it. "True enough. I thought women didn't like it when their dates talk about their exes."

He glances up at the boys, running ahead to stand on rocks and peer down a slope towards a fast-running shallow stream, and comes to a stop, keeping the distance from them.

Aiden touches my back, a small, possessive gesture that swells hot within me. I cough a little and clear my throat.

"You know why I'm concerned about a relationship with you. You're young—"

"I'm nineteen, Aiden. I turn twenty in two months. I'm not over the hill, but I'm an adult."

"It makes me nervous," he says, caressing the curve of my jaw now. "You awaken feelings in me I don't understand. I wanted you from the second you walked into my office."

"What feelings?"

He moves closer. "Hunger. You make me feel like a big bad wolf."

"Preying on the cute little damsel in distress?" I say with a flirtatious tilt of my chin. "Maybe I want to be preyed on. Maybe I want you the way you want me."

"I'm worried you think I'm something I'm not."

"You think my head's clouded with hero worship? I'm trying to have my girlhood crush?"

"Might be," he says.

"So what if I am? So far you're everything I dreamed you could be."

I slip behind him and rise on my tiptoes to whisper in his ear. "I think about you when I play with myself."

"I know," he says, softly. "I heard you that night."

"That wasn't the first time." I duck around in front of him and face him before turning away. "I always wanted it to be you. I wanted you to—"

"Snatch you up and rescue you?" he says, placing his hands on my upper arms. "Whisk you away from your tower so you can let down your hair?"

"You're worried I think life is a fairytale. I know it isn't. I'm ready to give myself to you."

"I'm not sure I can take what you're offering," he says, gripping my arms a little too hard before he relaxes.

I sink back against his chest and lean on him, sighing.

His arms slip around me from behind, and I close my eyes, savoring the warm breeze and shade trees and him. "Why not?"

He doesn't answer, but there is a pain in his ragged breath. A secret fire that's still burning in there. He misses her, I realize. Does he think he's betraying her? Is he afraid she'd judge him because I'm so young? Or is it something else?

She's dead, you idiot. He lost someone. There's a hole in him and you're irritating the edges trying to push your way in. Shut your mouth and savor the moment.

Aiden relaxes, the memory either fading or losing its bite as he pulls off my hat and buries his face in my hair to breathe in my scent.

Jason is watching us.

"I'm going to talk to them tonight."

I nod. "Good. You still need to talk to me, though."

Aiden loosens his grip, his arms sliding down to my waist.

"I'm not going to lie to you. I'm afraid for you. I told you before, I don't want you to suffer a scandal."

"I can handle it."

"Can you?" he asks, his voice hot. "Can you handle photographers following you? Reporters shouting lewd questions? Can you handle illicit photos on gossip sites, hate groups attacking you on Facebook? You'd be surprised what my fans get up to."

"Fans?" I say.

"What kind of self-respecting single billionaire would I be without a legion of female admirers? If you're with me publicly you're going to get caught up in that. Don't tell me you haven't seen some of the photos."

For the first time I feel distant from him. "I admit I have a little collection of them I downloaded. Just a few for research purposes. The beach ones."

"I can't go swimming without someone sneaking up on me to take pictures. I don't want that for you."

"Don't think I can handle it?"

He kisses my shoulder softly.

"No. I want you all for myself. I want you completely."

I shiver with delight, but I'm nervous at the same time. Aiden senses it.

"I don't want to put you in a cage," he says to reassure me. "I want you to fly free."

"Good."

"No cage. Now, tying you up, on the other hand…"

My whole body goes rigid. "What?"

"That’s what scares me," he says, toying with my hair. "I don't want to push you past your limits. But if you trust me, and I trust you, we won't let that happen."

"What if I want to go past my limits?"

Aiden stiffens now, in every sense of the word.

"This is awkward," he says, grinding his cock into the small of my back. "God bless the man who invented jeans."

He gives me a sharp jerk to…adjust himself and pulls away, his hands lingering my shoulders.

"Come on, boys, there's more to see!"

I savor the quiet as I walk with him, trying to imagine what wicked things he has in mind for me, for my body. It makes the walk feel like floating. I'm only half aware of the gorgeous vistas, but as we follow the mountain trail the trees open up onto a sunlight valley, and the four of us stop to marvel. A herd of deer pick along through the grasses, raising their heads as they chew to stare up at us, unafraid.

"Ever been around so much wildlife?" he asks.

"No."

I shudder as I realize how much of my life has been spent in the same few rooms. It's like I was born a prisoner, and I'm just learning what parole is. Aiden puts his foot up on a rock, and I can't stop myself from staring. He could be a model on a magazine cover, gorgeous and perfect, the sun turning the faint wings of graying hair at his temples to spun silver.

"Are you posing?"

He laughs. "Maybe."

I wish I had a camera. Just a private snap for the two of us. Mostly for me. I'll be thinking about that image tonight.

We follow a long, curving path, returning to the cabin from another direction. The boys are exhausted by the time we return, and I expect that was largely the point.

"Tick check and hit the showers, boys," Aiden says, ushering them inside.

"Ticks?" I blurt out.

"Just have a look at your legs before you wash up. Come on out to the pool. I'm going to teach you to swim."

Aiden pats my shoulders as we head into the house, disappearing into his own bedroom.

I slip into mine and stare at myself in the mirror, shivering at the idea of some little crawly bloodsucker on my skin. When I'm satisfied there's nothing clinging to me, I turn to the dresser drawers.

Aiden had a number of swimsuits sent ahead of us for me to wear. I pick out the most demure one, a racerback one-piece, and pull it on, feeling self-conscious as I pad barefoot through the kitchen to the back door.

Behind the house is a broad patio, leading to an in-ground pool with a deep and a shallow end and a hot tub in a raised stone basin off to one side. Aiden is lying back on a chaise, wearing only tight red swim trunks. I stop to gape at him, at the sweat beading his magnificent body, before he sees me and sits up.

I feel almost naked in this bathing suit, even if it's modest by most standards. Anticipation ripples through me, thinking how it will cling to my body when it gets wet, outlining every curve and contour of my form, my already hard nipples poking through.

Aiden leaps gracefully into the pool and skims quickly to my side, lapping water over my feet as I stand at the edge. "Jump in or walk down the stairs."

I hesitate, thinking for a moment. I have a sudden, nervous urge to just leap into the water, but I dismiss it and walk around to the shallow end, descending into the cool water, my teeth chattering by the time it reaches my chest. I keep my feet on the bottom and walk across the pool to him, fighting the rising surge of panic I feel every time I float a little bit.

"Okay," he says, half-walking, half-swimming to my side. "First lesson. Dead man's float."

"What?" I chirp.

"It's just a name. Here."

He slips an arm behind my back and another under my legs and lifts me up. Water streams from my body as I break the surface in his arms. Then he lowers me and leans me back.

"Neutral position, kind of a zero-gravity pose. Yes, like that. Spread out a bit. Let the water support you. Don't panic—your head will stay above the waterline."

He says that, but fear twists in my stomach as the waterline tickles my chin and cheeks. He gradually moves his hands away, until he's standing next to me while I float.

"Good. Very good. You're a natural."

"So now what?"

"Float a while. The key is to learn not to panic. Next we'll dog paddle."

As ridiculous as I feel as I'm doing it, I grow equally excited. I'm swimming!

After a while, I'm exhausted. I swim back towards the stairs, pull myself out of the pool, and sit on the edge, shivering in the evening cool. Aiden lifts himself out more deftly and sits next to me, then rises to fetch a blanket-sized towel and wrap it around my quaking shoulders. The chatter leaves my teeth.

"Here," he says, piling logs in a firepit on the patio.

When the fire starts to really catch, I come over and sit in a chaise near it and let the heat warm my legs.

"Hot dogs?"

Tim's voice catches me off guard.

"Go get 'em," Aiden says, nodding.

His son runs inside.

"Fetch your brother!" Aiden calls out after him.

A few minutes later they emerge with a pack of hot dogs, buns, long metal skewers, and all the fixin's. The light starts to fade, throwing long shadows across the patio, dancing from the fire as Aiden roasts dinner over the flames.

He plops one in a bun and hands it to me, and I stare at it for a moment.

I've never eaten a hot dog cooked over a fire. I feel like an alien, watching the rest of them eat.

Aiden leans back.

"Jason, you do the rest if anyone wants seconds," he says, yawning.

I only have one. Aiden watches in silence as his eldest cooks seconds and thirds for the two of them. I finish mine and lean back in the chaise, legs crossed, wrapping myself in the towel. The nights are colder out here.

As it gets fully dark, Aiden rises to light torches. They smell odd from the chemicals that keep bugs away.

When they start yawning, the boys head inside, leaving us alone.

"I'm exhausted," I sigh. "Was this all the same day?"

Aiden laughs. "Yeah. The days are longer out here."

"How long have you had this place?"

"It was one of the first things I bought when I allowed myself to think I was rich. You should have seen me sweating when I wrote the check."

I laugh. "I can't imagine you being nervous about anything."

Aiden says nothing. "Why don't we warm up in the hot tub before we head in?"

"All right."

The water swirls and bubbles, steam rising from the surface. I sink into it, an involuntary groan of calm bubbling from my throat as I relax into the water.

Aiden joins me a moment later, slipping in next to me. I scoot closer and lay my head on his shoulder, sighing contentedly.