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In nothing but jeans and a white T-shirt, Jett’s free of his sinfully form-fitting pilot’s uniform.

My jaw clenches so tight I’m not sure whether to read it as stress or arousal. Either way, it confirms one thing.

No one else is coming.

CHAPTER 23

JETT

One little white lie won’t hurt, right?

The flight time hasn’t changed, but I had to come up with some excuse to see her again. One that I knew for certain she would listen to, and damn am I so glad she did.

The moment I looked out of the rear window of the plane and saw her perfectly wavy chestnut hair swaying in the wind, my heart stuttered.

Even with as many women as I’ve gotten alone, no one makes me as jittery as she does. Which could explain why I’m circling her like a shark in the water.

What’s going on between us isn’t lost on her. All this extra fluff is merely building blocks for the inevitable tumble they’re going to take when our walls crash into one another.

Lucid emerald eyes peer up through thick lashes, realization striking her features in slow motion. The only thing that’s important right now is me and her, whether she believes it’s real or not.

I know it is.

Careful not to get lost in her, I repeat my previous question, because while I love rendering her speechless, I crave her words more.

“Have you eaten?”

“No, I-I didn’t have the chance,” she whispers, squirming a little in her seat.

“Why is it that this is a common occurrence?”

This isn’t the first time I’ve noticed Fia’s redirection when it comes to food. She’s healthy looking—fuck, the girl has muscle for days and curves that make my tongue hang out like a damn dog—but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t noticed a subtle change in her physique since the start of our trip.

“Sometimes I just forget.” Her words lack conviction.

Forget my ass, something more is going on.

“How does an elite athlete forget to fuel their body?”

Sitting straighter in her chair, she repositions herself so her right leg is hugged tightly to her chest, the left dangling.

Red flashes zip like lightning in my head when her flexible limb moves with ease to her chest. Pictures of how easily it would move with the force of my body behind it freeze me for a moment.

“Elite athlete is generous.” She scoffs, brushing off my comment like she’s familiar with the debate and not coming out on top.

“You don’t think dancers are athletes?”

“I do, but people like you don’t.”

I don’t bother hiding my smirk. Fia knows all I want her to know about me. She thinks I’m the stereotypical billionaire playboy who doesn’t think anyone is better than him, and she’s not wrong.

I was that guy for a long time.

But not anymore.

“People like me, huh?” I chuckle. Leaving the smile on my face, I pause until she’s ready to answer, making sure she’s aware of the reaction she brings out of me.

“You know what I mean.”