She’s fucking switched on. I need to watch myself.

“You told me you always come here on the weekends.”

“I did? When did I tell you that?”

She looks confused. I’ve fucked it. Serves you right for being a desperate prick! Quick. Think quick, you fucking idiot.

I shrug. “It was when I walked you home from my Uncle’s restaurant.”

Just buy it. Please just fucking buy it.

Her smirk is sheepish, and she glances down. “Oh. Yeah. I think I remember that.”

The tension inside my gut loosens. That was too close. I need to keep my head together. She has me doing stupid things.

“This is a nice car.” She looks around the interior and rubs her hand along the leather door rest. I imagine her rubbing her hand along my cock. I want to fucking punish her for doing this to me. She has me more stirred up than an un-popped bottle of champagne that’s been shaken. Any minute now, I’m going to fucking explode all over her.

That’s it! I’m going back to fuck her pillow again tonight. I can’t fucking handle this.

“So where are we going?” Her grin is gorgeous. I just want to kiss those lips.

I realise she’s changes the subject again when I don’t respond to her. I can’t fucking think straight. “You wanted me to surprise you.” I smile. “So how are all the details of the case going? You must be onto something if you messaged me at one in the morning?”

Her eyes shift to Giorgie behind the steering wheel.

“He’s my godson. I should’ve introduced you, sorry. Giorgie, this is Chelsea. Chelsea, this is my nephew and my godson? Giorgio. He’s my sister’s oldest. He’s a good kid.”

“Hi Chelsea.” Giorgie is as gruff as usual. Makes me laugh. He reminds me of what I was like at his age, except he’s a cleanskin. Not a charge on him in his eighteen years. He’s smarter than I ever was. He’ll make a great boss for the family one day, and he doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty either.

Chelsea takes her time to talk. “Well, I’ve uncovered a lot. There’s so much more to this than just your charge.”

None of this is news to me, but I’m not surprised that she was able to uncover it either.

“Go on,” I encourage.

“I’d rather talk about it, alone.”

“I trust Giorgie with my life.” I wish she would just loosen up.

“It can wait. I’m starving. I haven’t eaten all day. We’ll talk after I get some food into my system.”

I’ll fill your system with plenty of food, my honeybee.

“Can’t have you hungry now,” I lower my voice, hoping to make my sarcasm obvious. Her bossiness gives me a boner, every time.

We pull into the driveway of Catalina restaurant and Chelsea’s frown doesn’t look approving.

“You don’t like Catalina?” I probe.

“I love Catalina. It’s just that my parents know the owners really well. It’s probably bad timing coming here. I think we should go somewhere more discreet.”

The car stops. Giorgie opens her door just as I step out from the back seat.

She hesitates so I take control of the situation. “Lucky I booked a seaplane to take us up to the Hawkesbury River then.” I hold my hand out for her to take.

Her beaming smile is so infectious. It makes me want to do everything I can to see it all the time. She takes my hand and grips around the leather of my glove. She pauses and stares at her hand in mine.

That’s right, honeybee, your hand looks good there, doesn’t it?

Still holding onto to her, I lead her around the side of the building and down the to the pontoon, where a pilot is waiting for us next to a seaplane.

“Hi, Mr and Mrs Park?”

Chelsea glances to me.

I answer before she can, “Yes. That’s us.”

“Welcome aboard.”

The pilot shakes my hand and I help Chelsea into the back of the cabin. My hand subtly rests against her ass cheek as she takes the small steps of the plane. Moments like this I wish I had more tactility through the thickness of the leather covering my hands. Although, there’s no telling what I’d do to her if I felt the heat of her ass through her pants.

Taking my seat next to her, I lean across and hand her the headset to put on. I do everything I can to get close to her. Her smell is sending my insides crazy.

I can feel her watching me, but I try not to make eye contact. I can’t. Who knows what I’ll do to her if we lock eyes at this point.

The pilot climbs into his seat and pulls his headset on, too, his voice sounding through my headphones. “The flight to Cottage Point will be nice and smooth. We have clear skies all the way and a nice headwind to take off in. Couldn’t get more perfect conditions if you tried.”

Chelsea looks at me, and smiles. There it is again.

Fuck you are beautiful my, honeybee.

She puts her hand on my thigh and narrowly misses the head of my cock. The position it’s in is due to my half chub. I just wish the fucker would relax. He’s hungry as a beast for some honeybee.

I take her hand in mine as my balls tighten and constrict from the tension. Her eyes drop. Did she just realise what she almost touched?

The smile on her face is subtle, and the microphone is picking up her heavy breathing, centimetres from her open mouth. The plane’s engine loudly kicks in and drowns out any other noise.

The pilot turns to face us. “I’ll be switching off my headset for privacy once we take off.”

He finishes writing in his logbook then turns his attention to the control board, flicking switches.

The plane surges forward and we glide along the surface of the water. As we gain speed, the small waves thump against the two floats underneath. We bounce around for a while until the engine roars and we weightlessly lift off the ground into a smooth ride.

I watch Chelsea. Her face is turned away from me as she looks out of the window, but I can tell she’s smiling. I wonder if she’s ever had a guy take her away in a plane like this? Despite the way she acts, she comes from wealth, so a flight like this isn’t out of the ordinary for her, surely? But the way she’s behaving, it’s as if this is all new to her.

I gaze down at her hand, still in mine, and give it a light squeeze. She turns to face me.

“Have you been on one of these flights before?”

She chuckles and she replies, “Yeah, but I never get tired of it.”

Fuck, I’m an idiot. Of course she’s been on one of these flights. What a stupid fucking question, you cock-head.

Her green eyes sink into me. “So how come you don’t fly planes yourself? You know, like all those men in the fairy-tale romance stories.”

“Who said I was a fairy-tale?” I laugh. “Not many rich guys really have time to learn how to fly planes, especially not ones like me. I’d rather just pay someone else to fly me around.”

She laughs with me. Thank fuck. The only way to battle this embarrassment is to humour her. Why does she think I’m like a fairy-tale? Is she really like every girl I’ve ever met, all wanting their Prince Charming to sweep them off their feet and have a fucking happy ever after? Doesn’t she realise that doesn’t always happen in my world? You have to fight for the happy, and as for the ever after? Well, that’s even harder to get when there’s always a target on you. That’s my reality.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“If you keep your eye out, you may just catch some whales. We saw a pod yesterday when we flew over here.” The pilot’s voice sounds through the headphones again.

It’s safe to say that this is the most romantic thing a guy has ever done for me, even if it’s just a plane flight to have lunch. I’ve gone out to dinner with guys—I even dated a guy for four months once. Nothing felt like it fit into my life. And as I’ve gotten older, I’ve realise nothing ever will fit into my life. None of them felt nice, except this. This feels nice.