“Enjoy your vacation.”
“I will. Take care of yourself! Bye, Dad.”
I pack the rest of my stuff and drag the luggage out behind me before letting myself into his loft.
He’s on the phone, lips pursed. “Yes, I accept the offer. Draw up the papers already.”
He disconnects the call. Tossing the phone on the counter, he holds his head between his hands.
“Guess what? I just accepted a contract extension. I’ll be the highest paid quarterback in the history of the NFL.”
I shift on my feet, aware of the implications. “Congratulations.”
“Yeah, congratulations. Except it doesn’t give me what I crave most.” His eyes lock on mine and heat stirs in my core at the insinuation.
There’s no point in dwelling on forbidden territory.
“People will see us at the airport.”
Leaning against the counter, he spreads his legs in a manly, sexy pose even though his brows pinch in frustration. “I rented a private jet.”
My eyes widen, a rush of enthusiasm dulling my gloomy mood. “I’ve never been in one.”
He cocks his head, jerking his chin at me. “Only the best for you, flower girl.”
I am fairly certain that he’d gift me the world if he could. He has done more things for me than my two relationships combined, and we’re not even together.
“Thank you,” I say breathlessly.
Straightening up, he asks, “Are you ready to go?”
At my nod, he smiles and grabs his luggage and mine, saying, “Let’s go!”
Trailing out the door behind him, I know I will always associate the Super Bowl with him and our stolen kiss. Proof of our inability to keep our hands off each other.
We hurry downstairs, where a tinted window town car waits for us. VIP service at its finest.
“I could get used to this,” I say playfully.
He cocks his head, giving me the perfect view of his handsome face drawn in a smirk.
“That can be arranged.”
When the driver parks on the tarmac, I see the sleek private jet waiting for us.
Inside, I take everything in with greedy eyes, from the cream leather seats to the wooden design elements.
The comfortable seat swallows me in, and Ian takes the one in front of me, a shiny mahogany table set between us.
We buckle in, and after the safety instructions, the pilot announces we’re ready for take-off. My belly knots up with nerves, and I grip the armrests to trick my brain into believing nothing bad could happen. But everything else fades when our eyes lock. It’s just him and me in our safe bubble, and I relax instantly.
As the jet chases the sky, butterflies do the same in my chest. I gulp, trying to swallow my need for more.
Once we can take our seatbelts off, Ian jerks his chin toward a couch along the side. I unbuckle and follow him, just wanting to be even closer to him.
A big TV screen spreads across from us and as he scrolls through the movie selections, the flight attendant brings us a bag of popcorn. The flight will take hours, so I cuddle myself against his side, watching an animated movie.
At some point, I must have drifted to sleep because when I wake up, my cheek rests against his chest.
