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The mention of touching brings a flush to my cheeks. What will it feel like to have his hands on me while we’re naked?
“You won’t have much opportunity. There’s a busy schedule ahead.” I glance at the clock on the nightstand. “Speaking of, we need to get up and ready for travel.”
“Five more minutes,” he mumbles, pressing his nose in the crook of my neck.
I hesitate, but sink back into the comfort of his bed, and more importantly, his arms. “Okay, but only because I enjoy being the little spoon.”
We do have to get moving but knowing we have to keep our distance during this trip, I want to stay in this soft, happy place for a few more minutes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Levi
Keeping my hands to myself proves to be much, much harder than I thought it would be. Especially when Hazel is dressed in a black athletic dress that shows some skin around her torso. Her make-up is flawless, her curls tight and bouncy. She’s showing off her damn thighs, crossing one leg over the other on the seat facing mine on the private jet.
Most of my team is taking the short flight to New York alongside us, the rest of them meeting us at the club. Our timeline has us landing and immediately going into press and opening weekend festivities.
I crack my knuckles, my elbows resting on the armrests. Hazel looks up from her book, a romance of some kind by the looks of the cartoon-ish couple gazing at one another on the cover, and gives me a small smile.
“What are you reading?” I ask, stretching my legs out in front of me and tapping her foot with mine.
She looks around the cabin of the plane, checking to see that no one is paying attention to us. They’re not. Everyone is on their phones or tablets, checking any final details before the game.
“It’s a small-town romance,” she says, blushing faintly.
“Is that a thing in the book world?” I ask.
“Oh, there are lots of tropes out there. This is just one of them.”
“Tropes?”
She laughs and closes the book, using her index finger as a bookmark. “A trope is a recurring theme or a device to move the plot along,” she says, eyes rounding in excitement. “A slow burn, for example—” She stops, pressing her lips tightly together. “That’s when the couple slowly develops a relationship, it builds and builds.”
Like ours. She doesn’t have to say it, but the implication is there, nonetheless.
I nod in understanding. “And the small town means they’re based in a small town?” I ask, frowning. That seems too easy.
“Yes,” she laughs. “But there’s more to it. Usually that means they deal with more mundane conflicts, and sometimes there’s some kind of meddlesome pet or elderly character involved in the couple’s journey. Sometimes it’s a story about a single parent.” She shrugs. “They contain multitudes.”
“This one in particular, which is it?”
Hazel clears her throat and reads me the blurb on the back of the cover. I bring a palm to my mouth and cover the smile that overtakes my face. She’s so freaking adorable, talking about a small-town flower shop owner and her brother’s best friend.
“Do you think it’s silly?” she asks, opening the book again and looking at it fondly.
“The book?” I look down at the title—Summer in Springs Hill by Alice Elliot.
“The romance,” she says, biting her lip.
My shoulders relax and I give her a soft smile. “No. It’s not silly. The world could use a bit more romance as far as I’m concerned.”
I swallow and tap her foot again. There’s an unspoken promise as I hold her gaze that I’ll give her all the romance she desires. Because she deserves the world.
The captain’s voice comes through the system, breaking the moment. “We are approaching our destination, please fasten your seatbelts and prepare for landing.”
Hazel uncrosses her legs, skirt rising up higher on her thighs. She catches my gaze and smirks, clicking her seatbelt into place. She doesn’t fix the skirt or pull it down, torturing me the whole descent.
After dropping our luggage off at the luxurious Southampton private home that Joanne booked for the whole team, we have breakfast prepared by the hired local chef, Antonio.
