Page 36 of Terms of the Flight

“What do you mean you can text the chef? You have the chef’s number at your parents’ place. I know you’re not around here treating your parents’ kitchen like a fast-food restaurant.”

I burst into laughter, unable to hold back. I swear she just said anything that came to mind.

“Doll, answer the question about these dietary needs that you’ve never mentioned to me before,” I replied.

She smirked. “I don’t have any. I’m just trying to keep you on your toes. It keeps you young and fresh.”

“Yeah, right. Who taught you that?” I asked.

“Every woman knows this. So I just let you in on some high-profile shit. Don’t go sharing it with all your little friends either.”

“Haha, hilarious,” I replied sarcastically.

“I’m just saying. I’m trusting you, and I can’t have you dragging my name through the mud saying I told you.”

“Trust me, it’s our little secret. I’m going to assume you’re ready to go.”

She backed up and posed while holding the bottle of champagne. Then she pointed at the camera.

“Big, you have assumed right,” she said, elevating her voice dramatically.

I chuckled and shook my head.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Okay! I’m going to go use the bathroom. I don’t want to seem like I’m trying to look around the house or anything.”

“Doll.”

“Bye, Big. Damn,” she replied.

I chuckled and ended the call. I swear, man, this wedding was a few months away. I was going to enjoy every second of preparing with her.

Ten minutes later, my truck pulled up to her apartment parking lot. My driver started to hop out and open my door, but I stopped him.

“I got it.”

He nodded and closed his door, while I let myself out of the back and then made a beeline for the stairs.

I stopped at the bottom, already frowning. “Why didn’t you wait for me to come get you?”

Khaleya continued locking the door behind her, then glanced over her shoulder. “You are getting me, Big. I’m right here.”

I tilted my head and frowned up at her as she stood at the top of the steps. “That’s not the point. You know men are supposed to come to your door, right?” I asked.

She gave me her signature amused smile while waving me off. The gesture caused the warm breeze between us to carry her scent straight to me.

Pear hit me first, soft and fresh, followed by something warmer—vanilla, amber, and a smooth woodsy scent that seemed to settle in the back of my throat. It wasn’t loud or overpowering. It clung to her, rich and inviting, like it belonged beneath her skin instead of sitting on top of it.

Every thought I had about getting in her ass disappeared.

Khaleya came down the steps, her brows lifting when I continued to stare. “Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Blackwell?” she asked smartly.

I wanted to tell her ass nah, but I could surely help her no longer be able to walk in a straight line. But I kept that shit to myself. Instead, I waited until she reached me, then leaned in closer before I could talk myself out of it. The scent deepened with the heat of her skin, softer now, but somehow more distracting.

“That’s yours, isn’t it?”

Her lips curved. “It is. You like?”