This can’t actually be happening. Not after years of maintaining careful distance.
My nipples are stiff to the point of painful. Wetness soaks my panties. I stare straight ahead for a moment, trying to steady myself, but the reality crowds in from every angle.
If I edge even an inch closer, our hips will align. If I turn my head, my mouth will find his shoulder.
The thought makes my pulse stutter. God, I want this man with every ounce of my being.
I swallow, trying to act composed, while my body quietly betrays me. Beneath the thrum of utter desire, one thought keeps circling.
Is this real?
Or, am I about to wake from a dream?
Dinner arrives in courses. First salmon, translucent and delicate, and oysters glistening on crushed ice. He watches me take the first bite.
“Your mind is working overtime.” His eyes soften.
I can’t look at him right now, I’m too worked up. “Always, it’s my fatal flaw.”
Wagyu follows, seared to perfection. Wine is poured. He waits until I taste it before taking his own sip.
“Did you plan all of this?” I hold my glass high and admire the deep red catching the cabin light.
He clinks his glass to mine. “Yes.”
Indulgent. Excessive. Yet, he offers absolutely no apology. Or defense.
What unsettles me is the steadiness. Zach isn’t showing off. He’s calm. Decisive.
Next, earthy, rich truffle over lobster perfumes the air. It’s heaven on earth. He leans back, studying me.
“You’ve gone quiet,” he notes.
I risk eye contact. “I’m eating.”
“Hmmm.” He pours more wine.
“You haven’t mentioned the acquisition,” I dare to look at him again.
His jaw pivots subtly. “Tomorrow. Not tonight.”
“Tonight is about…what?” My heart stutters.
He holds my gaze.“You.”
The word lands impactfully in my chest. I peer down at my plate to steady myself.
Moments later, the flight attendant clears dinner. Dessert replaces it. Gold-leaf chocolate soufflé in small porcelain ramekins. Champagne sorbet glistening like frost.
“You’re ridiculous.” My words lack bite.
Zach doesn’t respond. He intently watches me lift a spoon and taste the soufflé. Rich. Dark. Warm.
He inclines closer before I register the movement. His thumb brushes the edge of my lower lip. I freeze.
“You missed some.” He pierces me with a heated stare.
The pad of his thumb drags slowly across my mouth, collecting chocolate. His eyes never leave mine. Then he lifts his thumb to his own mouth and sucks it clean.
