I yanked my hand out of his and pressed it to my forehead.
He’s in my head.
Danger.
“You didn’t lie when you said you can’t hold your liquor,” he mused.
“It’s because of the longitude,” I sighed.
“The altitude.”
“That’s what I just said,” I snapped at him. “Anyway, I usually have a two-drink rule.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.”
Silence.
I closed my eyes.
“Why two drinks?”
“Why are you so talkative all of a sudden?” I grumbled, curling deeper into the seat.
He said something, but it sounded distant. I’d deal with him later—I needed to sleep.
Something warm wrapped around me, and I instinctively snuggled into it.
Yes, sleep.
Chapter 11
Laurent
She was out cold.
Slumped in the seat across from me, lashes resting against flushed cheeks, her breathing slow and steady. One hand curled in her lap like she’d fallen asleep mid-protest. Her glass still held a smear of her lip gloss. My champagne. Her mouth. It was all I could think about.
I reached for my jacket and draped it over her. Not for her comfort. No, this was a claim. A mark. A way to wrap her in my scent—something that would linger in her skin when she woke up.
She sighed in her sleep, nestling into it. Into me.
She didn’t know, but everything had changed the moment she stepped onto my plane. The second her ass hit that seat across from me, the story was rewritten.
She was no longer just an employee.
She was mine.
Lucia Hart—smart mouth, sharp brain, soft curves—had been driving me slowly, exquisitely insane since the first day she walked into my office with those goddamn eyes and that too-innocent smile.
Now here she was, laid out before me like a gift. Trusting me enough to fall asleep while I schemed every inch of her future.
My child in her belly.
My name carved into her brain.
My hand buried in her hair while I fucked the obedience into her.
