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“You need to focus on your studies,” I tell her, then lean in conspiratorially. “But if you happened to be in New York meeting with gallery owners and making professional connections…”

Lydia grins. “This is why you’re my favorite.”

“Hey!” Ford protests from across the foyer.

Lydia just blows him a kiss and laughs.

Charles gives me a light kiss on the cheek, which I can tell is more comfortable for him than a full hug. I’m sure I can work him up to proper hugs eventually. He just needs time to adjust to having emotions, apparently.

We head out with plenty of time since the plane is waiting for us. When we get to the airport though, the jet they lead us to is smaller than the one we took here, painted sleek black that gleams in the winter sunlight.

“Couldn’t get the same one as last time?” I ask as our luggage disappears into the cargo hold.

“Oh, this one’s ours,” Gabriel says casually, like he’s talking about a car instead of a multi-million dollar aircraft.

“You…” I sigh. “I really need to get used to you guys being able to just buy jets, don’t I?”

“You really should,” Hayden says with that smirk I’ve come to love.

“We needed one,” Ford adds. “For very specific reasons.”

I look at him more carefully. I know he hates flying, so maybe this has something to do with that. “Oh?”

“Turns out I know exactly what could cure my fear of flying.” Ford’s gaze turns molten as it rakes over me. “Being buried deep inside my future wife for the entire flight.”

Heat floods my system at his words and the way he’s looking at me like he wants to devour me right here on the tarmac. “That sounds like excellent therapy to me.”

“We all contributed to buying the jet,” Gabriel grumbles, although there’s amusement in his voice.

I laugh. “Don’t worry, I know you’re all excellent at sharing.”

Hayden wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me close enough to kiss my neck. “You’re excellent at being shared.”

When we board, I can immediately see that while the jet is technically smaller than the chartered one, it’s infinitely nicer. The other plane was clearly designed for transporting groups—lots of basic seating, functional but impersonal. This one feels like a luxury suite in the sky. Rich leather seats, polished wood accents, and most importantly, no flight attendant in sight.

We have the entire space to ourselves.

As the engines start up, I watch Ford’s knuckles go white where he grips the armrest of his seat. His jaw is tight, that muscle jumping like it does when he’s trying to control himself. Even knowing what’s coming, his body can’t help but tense up.

“Hey,” I say softly, moving to kneel in front of him and placing my hands on his muscled thighs. Even through the expensive fabric of his pants, I can feel the tension coiled in every fiber. “Look at me. Focus on me.”

His ice-blue eyes meet mine, pupils already dilating as I lean up to kiss him. His lips are warm and demanding against mine, tasting faintly of the whiskey he had back at the house to calm his nerves.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Can’t think about anything else when you touch me like this.”

But I can still feel the tension radiating through his powerful frame, the way his breathing is just slightly too controlled. He’s fighting the panic, but it’s still there.

“Let me give you something better to think about,” I whisper, running my hands up his thighs to feel the heat of him through the fabric.

I work his belt buckle open slowly, deliberately maintaining eye contact as my fingers trace the leather. The metal makes a soft clicking sound as I free the belt, then move to his button and zipper. Ford’s breathing grows heavier with each small movement, his gaze burning into mine like he’s trying to memorize every detail.

When I free his cock from his pants, he’s already hard and thick, the head flushed dark with arousal. I wrap my fingers around his shaft, marveling at the contradiction of velvet-soft skin over steel hardness, the way he pulses in my grip.

“Fuck, Maeve,” he groans, his head falling back against the leather headrest, some of the tension finally leaving his shoulders.

I hear the soft sounds of Gabriel and Hayden settling into the seats across from us, the whisper of expensive fabric as they shift to get a better view. When I glance over, they’re both watching with dark, hungry eyes that make heat pool between my thighs.

“That’s it, baby,” Hayden says, his voice like gravel. “Take care of him. Show him what that pretty mouth can do.”