“You. In my kitchen, making terrible coffee and complaining about my training schedule. Hazel giggling when you sing those ridiculous nursery rhymes. The way you scrunch your nose when you’re concentrating.”
Her lips parted.
“I think about coming home to that. To you. So no, I can’t promise I won’t crash. But I can promise I’ll do everything in my power to make sure I don’t.”
She stared at me for a long moment, then reached over and took my hand. Her fingers were warm, steady.
“Good enough.”
I brought her hand to my lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. “Besides, can’t join the mile high club if I’m dead.”
She choked on a laugh. “You’re terrible.”
“Speaking of which...” I waggled my eyebrows. “Ever joined?”
“What?”
“The mile high club. Have you?”
Her face turned scarlet. “Griffin!”
“That’s a no, then.”
“We are not discussing this.”
“Why not? It’s a perfectly reasonable question between two consenting adults currently thirty-five thousand feet above the ground.”
She glanced around the cabin like someone might overhear us. “Because it’s inappropriate.”
“Princess, I’ve had my mouth on every inch of your body. I think we’re past inappropriate.”
The flush spread down her neck, disappearing beneath her jumper. Christ, I wanted to follow that blush with my tongue.
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“Because that was...” She gestured vaguely. “Private.”
“This is private. I hired the jet.”
“There’s a flight attendant.”
I glanced toward the galley where the attendant was quietly preparing lunch service. “She signed enough NDAs to choke a horse.”
“You can’t be serious.”
I was dead serious. Had been thinking about it since we’d boarded, actually.
“Course I’m serious. When’s the next time we’ll have this much privacy?”
She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it.
“The bedroom has proper soundproofing,” I said helpfully.
“Impossible man.”
“You’re blushing.”
