Jesus.
Probably.
I woke at six in the morning with Gemma’s head on my biceps and my face inches from hers.I spent five long minutes watching her, trying to think of just one single thing in this world that was more beautiful than her.
The Niagara Falls?
Nope.
White Cliffs of Dover?
Fuck no.
A sunset?
In the end I got pissed off with myself and slid out of bed, used the bathroom, tugged on my ripped shirt and went to leave.
I couldn’t.
Walking back to her bed, I leaned over and kissed her forehead while Gemma murmured in her sleep.
“See you downstairs in an hour, sleepyhead,” I whispered.
Her eyes fluttered.“K.Bye.”
Smiling, I left her room and took the elevator up to the penthouse.We all met in the lobby for breakfast and then climbed into the black SUV, which took us to the private airport.
It was only when we were climbing the stairs to board the jet that Gemma turned to me and said, “I’ll take care of things today when we get to New York.”
The lack of condom.
“Thank you.”
If she was after an apology, she wasn’t getting one.It had felt fucking incredible—more than incredible—and I’d do it again if she let me.
I can’t keep my eyes off her.
I love having her on board my jet, seeing her snoozing peacefully with my suit jacket laying over her.
Yes, I could have used a blanket, but I didn’t.Even when the flight attendant stopped and said, “Shall I—”
“It’s fine.”I shook my head.
“Are you sure, I—”
“No.”
Her little smile and how she glanced between Gemma and I was stupid.I ignored it.
It’s nice to have someone to care for.
Just for a few hours.
I’m giving myself this moment to revel in her perfection, and then when we land, she will go home to her daughter, and I’ll probably go to the gym or office.
Is she dreaming of her husband?
I grit my teeth.I irrationally hate that man despite him no longer existing on this earthly plane.Part of it is Gemma; the other is the information still unfolding.And how I will have to lie to her for however long she is in my life.
