I smile as he plants a kiss on my temple. Tonight, we’ll be home. Alone again. Free to have sex.

I don’t want Lo to think I’ve been obsessing over it, so I don’t say a word about sex. Even though the thought has crossed my mind. I fantasized a little in the shower this morning, but I tried really hard to just wash and step out. No self-love. And that accomplishment feels sort of good, but I know sex would have made me feel even better.

“You know what tonight means?”

He’s bringing it up?

“Lil.”

“Huh?” I turn my head, my eyes wide with anticipation. If he instigates this conversation then I’ll gladly take part in it.

“Tonight,” he says again. His eyes stay on mine, never leaving. I don’t break our gaze, filled with seven days of need and want and tension. I refuse to stare at his lips or his abs or any other part of him. I want Loren Hale. The man, the lover, the guy who fills me with happiness and bliss. Not just the body.

His hand reaches out and cups my cheek, his thumb skimming slowly over my lips. I wonder if he’s testing me.

I want to pass.

His thumb pulls gently on my bottom lip, and I let out a short, ragged breath. His hand slides down to the back of my neck before he whispers, “I’m going to fuck you.” Oh. God.

Now? No, that can’t be right.

He must sense my confusion because his lips quirk. “Tonight, love.”

“Right.” I nod, flushing from the foolish presumption. I don’t think it would go over well with everyone if he took me right here on the couch. Even the image—of Lo on top of me, of his hardness pressing so deep inside of me—steals the air right from my lungs.

He holds me tighter in his arms and lowers his head to murmur dirty things in my ear. My arousal grows, and he must believe I have the strength to last the whole plane ride and the drive to the house. So he’s tempting me little by little. My peak tonight will be so freakin’ intense when we finally do have sex—the walls will not be able to silence my screams.

I squirm a little, the tension a good kind of tension, the kind where I know I can wait to release it. Months ago, I don’t think I could have. But I’m learning restraint.

I flip through the channels while Lo holds me on his lap. I try to find a movie that won’t put me to sleep or a television show that won’t draw my attention back to Lo’s cock or my nefarious thoughts.

Lo rubs my shoulder, and his gaze drifts to his half-brother. “Are you losing?” Lo asks, a smile at the idea. I perk up a little with equal amusement.

Ryke stares at his cards with pinched brows. On the table is a pile of hundred dollar bills, what looks like his Rolex and her hemp bracelet.

“No,” he snaps.

Lo laughs under his breath. “Hey, bro, did you fail remedial math? That watch is worth five times more than that bracelet.”

“Can the peanut gallery please shut the fuck up?” Ryke says. “I’m trying to concentrate here.” He accidentally flashes his cards at Daisy.

She covers her eyes quickly. “I didn’t see anything.”

“Fuck,” he curses, shooting us another glare like we made the fumble. He goes back to concentrating really hard. Brain power must hurt Ryke as much as it does me.

Daisy puts her cards to her lips, trying not to smile too hard. She glances at us. “There’s a diamond in my bracelet, by the way.”

“Well then, I take it back,” Lo says. “Ryke is only half the idiot I thought he was.”

Ryke flips him off.

Daisy says, “You should fold.”

He stares at her for a long moment. “You’re bluffing.”

“I’m not. I saw your cards, remember?”

“You said you didn’t see a fucking thing.”

“I lied.” Oh she is good. I can’t tell if she’s bluffing.

“Fuck it.” Ryke slides off a gold ring from his middle finger and throws it in the pile. “That’s worth two grand.”

Daisy pales a little. She has to match that or fold and then he’ll take what’s in the pot.

“Let me see…hold on a sec.” She searches in her nearby bag.

And Ryke looks a little worried. He thought she was going to fold.

But her face falls. “I don’t have anything worth two thousand, but…” She snatches her journal and scribbles something on a piece of paper. She tosses that into the pile.

“Lo,” Connor calls from the back of the plane, still staring at his laptop. “Can you come here?”

“In a second,” Lo says, entertained, like me, on the poker game.

“Now would be best.” Connor’s voice pitches from its usual steady tone.

Lo sighs and slides out beneath me. “Catch me up when I come back?”

I nod, and he kisses me tenderly on the lips. As he retracts, he has that twinkle in his eye like more later.

Yes.

 When he leaves, I prop myself on my knees to try and see the paper in the poker pile. “Read it out loud,” I tell Ryke.

“She’s tossing in her two Ducati Superbikes.” His eyebrow quirks. “I already have a motorcycle, Dais.”

“These are faster than your Honda.” Clearly they have talked “motorcycle” before if she knows what sits outside his apartment.

“Wait,” I interject. Ryke said her two superbikes. That means she already has them. “When did you get a motorcycle? And why would you buy two?”

“A client at a shoot bought them for set decoration, and he gave them to me.”

“He just gave them to you?”

Ryke fingers the piece of paper. “That’s what I said.”

“It was a thank you for doing a good job is all. It doesn’t happen often, but it did then. And now I have two motorcycles begging to be ridden. I’ve only taken the red one out on the road, so I put some miles on it.”

“You don’t have a motorcycle license yet,” he tells her flatly.

“Yeah, I know. But in order to get a license, I have to practice.”

He lets the paper go, and I see a sort of longing for those bikes in his gaze. They must be really nice. “You do realize that these are a lot more than my ring?”

“You don’t have to match me. I’m not trying to up the bid, but it’s really all I have that you could want.”

I glance at the rear of the plane. Lo’s back faces me, but he’s hunched over, his hand to his eyes. Something…something’s really wrong. What happened? Is it his father? I go to stand, but Connor meets my gaze and shakes his head, as though I should sit back down.

I do. He has some sort of power in his assuredness. It’s like Jedi mind control.

But I want to go comfort Lo. My chest hurts just watching the back of him. I bite my nails, catch myself and drop my hand.

“What the hell, let’s do it,” Ryke says.

I turn back to the poker game. Maybe it’ll keep my mind off something horrible. But I’m so antsy that I start scratching my arm. I catch myself doing that too.

“So the motorcycles are fair then?”

“Sure. Just don’t cry when I take them from you.”

She grins. “Okay. Let’s see your hand.”

He turns over two cards and compares them to the ones flipped on the table.

My attention is split between the game and Lo, and I don’t want to focus on him anymore. I’m about to go against Connor’s wishes and dart to the back of the plane. In order to stop myself, I switch the television channels to find a show that can preoccupy my mind.

“So you have two eights,” Daisy says, a smile to the words.

“You beat me, didn’t you?”

“Two jacks,” she says.

“You were dealt two fucking jacks?”

“You shuffled.”

He groans.

“You can have the ring back if you want.”

Boy Meets World? No. Sabrina the Teenage Witch? No. Soccer? Definitely not.

“No, you won it. It’s yours.”

“I’m going to feel weird if it’s a family heirloom or something.” She tries to shove the ring into his hand. He holds them up in the air.

“It’s from a jewelry store, and I was going to retire the thing anyway.”

“Why?”

“It’s ugly.”

“So, you gave me an ugly piece of jewelry.”