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Boyfriend.
A thrill runs through me. I still can’t believe everything that has happened in such a short time, but then it feels like we’ve been together forever at the same time.
Strange but surreal.
The flight attendant comes around with a silver platter. “Can I offer you a glass of champagne or an orange juice?”
“Oh.” In a real glass too. “Champagne, please.” I take it and hunch my shoulders in excitement. I glance over, and Henley gives me a sexy wink.
I sit back and smile. Bring it on.
The drone in the background is a constant hum. Everyone else on the plane seems to be in deep relaxation mode.
Me, not so much.
I’ve watched two movies and tossed and turned. I attempted to watch a third movie but was unable to concentrate, so I stopped it after fifteen minutes.
I hate sitting still.
I look over at Henley; he’s still reading the same book he has been for hours. He turns the page, completely absorbed. How does he concentrate for so long?
Ugh . . .
I lie back down and toss and turn some more . . . fuck’s sake. I sit back up, and Henley glances over. “What’s wrong?” he mouths.
I shrug, feeling dejected.
He puts his book down and taps his lap. I walk around and lean over and kiss him.
“What’s happening?” he asks softly as he brushes the hair back from my forehead.
“I can’t sleep.”
He pulls me down onto his lap. “Sit with me for a moment.” I curl up on his lap, and he spreads the blanket over the two of us. “I missed you too,” he murmurs against my temple with a soft kiss.
How did he know?
With his big arms around me, finally safe in his arms, I feel myself begin to relax.
He holds me tight as he closes his eyes too.
Now, we sleep.
Henley scans the key, and the door to our cabana clicks open.
Holy . . .
“Oh my god,” I whisper as I look around. It’s so beautiful that I don’t know where to focus first.
Henley smiles, proud of himself. “Not bad.”
“Not bad?” I gasp. “Are you kidding? It’s spectacular.”
The back wall is all glass, looking over the most breathtaking view I have ever seen.
Blue ocean, palm trees, and white sand.
Built on the beach, it’s a timber cabana with a huge deck, private swimming pool, and spa. My eyes roam around the interior. It’s all white, with light wood furnishings. It looks like something straight out of a beach house in a magazine. I walk into the bedroom and see a huge four-poster bed and an en suite with a sunken bathtub. “Oh my god,” I gasp again. “Henley James.” I laugh out loud.
