A fierce wind howls as we roll across the tarmac. The motorized luggage cart drops us at August’s private jet. I know nothing about planes beyond the basic details—mainly that they cost a shitload of money. If he’s ex-military, I’ll eat my hat. 

But I have more important things on my mind than August’s identity. Like making it through the flight without screaming bloody murder. I’ve never been on a damn airplane. August has no idea. I didn’t want to burden him, but I can’t hide my fear forever.

This is silly. I’ll be fine. 

We climb up steps, August ducking under the door. I feel slightly more at ease as I walk into a magnificent living room surrounded by small, vertical windows. All the furniture could’ve been ripped from a Room&Board catalog. Steel blue and ash tones decorate the interior. We strap into two spacious chairs made of white leather. 

My back sinks into the plush fabric. I open the arm, revealing a control panel of buttons. I peer at the tiny icons, pressing them at random. A blast of air hits my face. I hit it again, and the flow stops. 

August watches me stab them in amusement. “That calls the flight attendant.”

“Wow.” I grimace as a chime sounds. “Oops.”

He waves off a woman in a black skirt as she approaches. “Accidente.”

I rummage through the end table beside me, gasping as I find a drawer filled with bottles. “Look, there are mini vodkas! How cute. Are they free?”

“Of course.” He laughs at my excited gasp. “They’re nothing special.”

“To you, maybe.” I search the next, finding a complimentary bag of toiletries, including a sleeping mask. “Cool.”

August grins, charmed by my ignorance. He does not understand I’m on the verge of a meltdown. “You know, I’m surprised. I thought you’d ask more questions about where we’re going.”

“I haven’t ruled out this is a bizarre dream.” 

A voice chimes on the speaker, telling us to prepare for takeoff. 

“God, this is nuts.” I clutch the armrests as a gear-like sound rumbles under the floor. I’ve never heard such a roar.

“You’re acting as though this is your first time…ah.” He waits for me to contradict him. “Shit.”

A shriek sets my nerves ablaze. “What’s that?”

“It’s normal. Don’t worry.”

“Sorry, I really should’ve warned you, but I didn’t want to bother you. I’ll be all right,” I say, more to myself than August. “At some point, I’ll faint from—fuck.”

I swear as we lurch backward and start spinning in a slow circle.

August grasps my hand, fighting laughter. He bumps his lips against my knuckles. “It will be fine. I’ll distract you.”

“What the hell was that?” A loud bang zips me straight. I look outside, but he closes the shutter. 

“It’s better if you don’t know what’s coming.”

Once we pull from the terminal, I white-knuckle his fingers. I brace myself for a burst of acceleration. A mechanical scream fills my ears, and I’m flattened against the chair.

What’s happening?

I open the viewer to watch the tarmac speed away, and then we lift. The pressure on my spine doubles. The roar beneath my feet disappears. 

This isn’t too horrible. “Wow.”

San Jose shrinks into a gray sprawl. It’s fascinating to see everything laid in patches of farmland and minuscule boxes that were skyscrapers. Turquoise pools become marbles. Cars the size of ants crawl through mazelike streets. 

We soar into thick clouds, which obscure the ground. “I won’t be in California again for weeks. Months, right?”

Beside me, August frowns at the window. “It’ll be a while.”

“Home is that bad, eh?”

He sinks into his seat, resigned. “You’ll get sick of the weather. I hope you’re in for a lot of humid nights.”

“What’s it like?”

“Isolated,” he says after a lengthy pause. “I live in a compound.”

“Don’t tell me it’s a polyamorous community.”

He laughs hard. “No, I have lots of security.”

“What’s your day-to-day schedule?” 

“I wake early and drive to my coffee and cacao plantations. They’re five minutes down the road. The farms eat most of my time, but I take off weekends like anyone else.”

“Sorry.” My head is spinning. “You own coffee and—what?”

“Cacao,” he repeats, grinning. “Er—it makes chocolate. I run a bean to bar business. It means we’re responsible for every level of production until the finished product.”

“You make chocolate for a living, and you’re single.” I stare at him. “How come you never found a woman?”

“I did.” He strokes my cheek.

My skin heats like a lamp. Warmth blazes between my thighs. 

A smirk tiptoes across his face. “If you’re tired, there’s a bed on board.”

“Show me.”

He unbuckles himself and beckons me. My heart gallops miles ahead. He brings me through rooms straight from a Pottery Barn catalog. There are coffee tables. Rugs. Hell, there’s even art bolted to the walls. He takes me into the bathroom, which is roomier than most studios in San Francisco.

Everything is laid in white marble, and a spotless, oval mirror stands over the sink. I gape at my surroundings and at the gorgeous man wearing a black polo. He looks at me the way I’ve always craved someone to look at me. 

August touches my waist, eyes naked with desire. “If you’ve ever wanted to join the mile-high club, here’s your opportunity.”

“It’s not big enough for both of us.” I’m a heartbeat away from stripping my clothes. He’s perfect. And he’s here.

“You’ve been amazing.” Why should I hesitate? “I didn’t expect this.”

He smooths the hair from my neck. “Don’t thank me yet. You don’t know what you’re in for.”

“A lifetime with you.” I smile at his reflection. “Where’s my refund?”

“Smartass.” He taps my ass and walks out. 

I follow him into a bedroom. Unlike the rest of the plane, it’s a Spartan room with a bed and two nightstands. I sit on the mattress, amazed by its comfort. “Is this where you ask me to reenact our phone sex?”

He drops to his knees, grit creeping into his voice. “I wasn’t planning on asking.”

“Oh.” My breathing hitches as he circles my midriff.

“You wanted me to take charge. Remember?” He plays with my blouse, dragging his finger along my exposed skin. 

Our filthy conversations replay in my mind with astonishing clarity. I can’t believe I told a stranger to lick my pussy, but he’s not a random guy on my contacts list anymore. 

He’s my fiancé.

“What is it? Still shy?”

Overwhelmed. “This feels like a dream.”

Hovering closer, August’s mouth brushes mine. “I’m real. And all yours.”

I’ve waited months, and I’m not wasting a second with him.

His lips sting me with the snap of an electrical current. I gasp at the shock, nerves firing on all cylinders. His fingers bite my waist as he pushes me backward. I sink into the comforter, hands diving into his hair.

His tongue dances over mine as he touches me in broad strokes. He yanks my shirt over my ribs. My straps hook in his thumbs. He snaps the fabric against me. With a rough tug, he pulls both straps down. Cold air stings my nipples before his palms replace my bra.

As he caresses me, I touch him. I remove his polo and grope the cord of muscle rippling through his arms. He bites, deepening the kiss. I choke when he flicks my nipple. They harden into points.

He breaks from me with a low growl, red-faced and grinning. “You’ve got me all worked up. Seeing you in photos was one thing. Touching you, tasting you, is another.”

Please fuck me. I can’t say it.

He traces my swollen mouth. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m nervous, I guess.”

“I thought hours of listening to me describe how I’d fuck you would relax you.” He pinches me, forehead against mine. “You know what’s coming.”

Yes, I do.

He’ll rip my panties off and free that bulge against his jeans. I’ll wrap my legs around his waist. He’ll stroke my thighs and warm my clit, priming my body for his.

And then he’ll fuck me. “What are you waiting for?”

He grips my jaw, kissing me. “I’m trying to be gentle.”

“You’re not soft.”

August had given me a no-holds-barred account of what he liked. He warned me he wasn’t tender, and he didn’t lie. He trembles from the effort of not tearing my clothes.

“I’m not,” he says in a strained voice. “But I should try for your sake.”

Suddenly, the jet dips. My stomach fills with a diving sensation. I clutch his shoulders, biting a scream.

He nuzzles my neck. “Re-lax.”

“This fucking plane.” I cling to him, ignoring his chuckle. 

He releases a frustrated growl. “What’ll calm you?”

“Not being in the sky.”

“That works.” He breathes a sigh. “You’ll be near the stars by the time I’m done with you.”

God. 

“Now?” My pulse races. “With the bodyguards in screaming distance?”

“There will always be someone in the next room.”

I meet his scorching gaze, once again pulled within their depths. A thrill runs through me. 

I still don’t know who he is. 

Anticipation needles my chest. He unzips my jeans. They snag my hips as he pulls them with my panties. His stare travels down my thighs, growing in ravenous hunger. I’m stripped bare.

I feel wanted. Needed. 

He strokes my curves, satisfied enough to touch. It’s as though he’s pleased with his prey. After a long pause, he kisses me. His body seals against mine with a desperate fervor. He yanks my head, kissing me with bruising force.

A chime shatters the quiet. 

August’s eyes flare like two small suns when it rings again. “Fuck.”

He growls into my neck, uttering a quick apology before rolling to grab his cell on the nightstand. Whoever’s name flickers on the screen fills August with bitterness.

He takes the call. Rapid-fire Spanish pours from his mouth. The only word I recognize is no. 

“No, no, no.”

I sit up, twisting my hands in the sheets. Something’s wrong. My stomach sinks even lower. Do we have to turn back?

“Hijo de puta.” He hurls the phone. It smashes against the wall and rains glass. 

“Jesus, August!” I shove myself off the bed, heart slamming into my ribs. “What’s the matter with you?”

August blinks from my indignation, snapping from his fury. He shakily runs a hand through his locks. “I’m—I’m sorry.”

I seize my bra and panties, hugging them to my chest. “What happened?”

Agony twists his handsome face. “Nothing.”

I won’t press him. Not when he cooled from that bull-like rage. I dress quickly and leave the room. 

That’s not the man I love. August doesn’t throw things in fits of passion. 

Who am I kidding? 

I don’t know him.

What the hell did I get myself into?