“I love you,” I say again, just to feel how wonderful it is to admit those words aloud, to make them real.
He kisses me then—not desperate, not claiming, but slow and deliberate seduction that leaves me breathless—a promise instead of a demand.
The wind howls around us, and for the first time in a long time, the future doesn’t feel like something to fear. It feels like something to step into.
With him.
EPILOGUE
DALLEN
One Year Later, somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean
“Stop staringat me like that. I’m not being naughty with you 30,000 feet in the air.” I can’t help but laugh at Stephen and his inability to behave, even in front of his family who are all on this jet with us. They’re heading to Ireland, to see where Stephen and I are making a home.
A permanent home after everything that happened in New York. Thankfully, my work allows me to work remotely for the moment, even though I do jet back and forth across the Atlantic when needed. This time away from the city is healing.
The hum of the engines is low and powerful, a steady reminder that we are suspended over an ocean, wrapped in steel and luxury and second chances. The cream leather seats, polished walnut trim, and soft recessed lighting make it feel less like an aircraft and more like a private lounge drifting through the sky. A far cry from the chaos we left behind in New York.
There are still nights when I wake and expect sirens, flashing lights, or the cold press of fear in my chest. Ireland givesme quiet. Gives me space to breathe without looking over my shoulder.
Ireland is healing.
Stephen too.
I see it in him—the way his shoulders no longer sit so rigid, the way his laughter comes easier now. But there are shadows in him that will never entirely disappear. I understand that. I carry my own.
I adore him.
Even if right at the moment he’s trying to convince me to join an absurd club I refuse to be part of. “No,” I say again.
He grins, that devilish, tempting smirk that I struggle to deny. I rarely do. I’m kind of addicted to the guy, and I love him. Still, with all his family around, I can’t possibly do what he wants.
The cabin stretches long and sleek behind us, divided into zones of plush seating and a dining area with crystal, neatly secured in cabinets. Billionaire indulgence. Every detail curated. Every surface gleaming. And yet all I can focus on is the heat in his eyes.
He leans forward, his biceps flexing and catching my eye. I reach out and run my hand along one of the snake tattoos. “You know you want to. I can almost smell your desire for me, Pumpkin.” His voice drops low, intimate, cutting through the jet's refined elegance like something deliciously inappropriate.
“Don’t lie to me and stop teasing.” I chuckle when he runs his hand along my thigh, tightening his hold and tickling me. “You’re not playing fair.”
“I never play fair.” He comes and sits beside me, and I watch as he looks behind our seats. “No one is taking any notice of us. We could go to the bathroom at different times. It’ll be fine.” His whispered words against my neck make me shiver, the soft,beckoning kiss afterward has me seriously considering doing what he wants.
A year ago, I wasn’t sure we’d even have this—this teasing normalcy, this reckless happiness. The thought of losing him back then still makes my stomach knot.
“I’ll die of embarrassment if any of them suspect. We only have a couple of hours before we land. I’m sure you can wait until then to get your rocks off.”
He shakes his head, serious all of a sudden. “No, I can’t. I’ll expire of need if I have to wait to have you. I want you, and here, feel this.” He clasps my hand and places it on his lap.
The boldness of him—so unapologetically devious—makes something fierce bloom in my chest. His cock presses into my palm, and as much as I shouldn’t, I clasp him, take the opportunity to tease him. I’m getting wet just thinking about us in the bathroom, what we could get up to. He’s so big and rigid. I can’t think straight, knowing how very clever he is with his appendage.
“I don’t feel anything,” I say, feigning ignorance.
He growls, the sound tipping the scales in his favor. I rarely deny him when he sounds so unhinged.
Before he says anything, he stands, raises one cocky brow, and then strides down the aisle toward the back of the plane. There is a bedroom back there, along with two bathrooms. Still, I can’t follow him. Everyone would suspect what we’re up to.
Like they haven’t done it...
The reflection doesn’t make me any braver. Still, after a couple of minutes of debate, I unbuckle my belt and follow him. I try not to make eye contact with anyone on the plane, and I almost make it before Lucien catches my attention. My skin burns at his knowing grin, and I quicken my steps, wanting to be out of the main cabin before I die of shame.
