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“I don’t even like you.”
“You don’t evenknowme,” I corrected, standing up to meet him face to face.
I was taller than him, I always had been, and while my intent wasn’t to overshadow him or make him feel small, I needed him to know there were still things in my life that I controlled and I would be happy for him to be one of them.
“Basically you’re saying you’re flying me out to California to sleep with you,” he muttered. “Like a prostitute.”
I rolled my eyes at the comparison.
“And maybe between that,” I corrected, “we can get to know each other again.”
“That’s the plot ofPretty Woman.”
“I’m no knight in shining armor, Owen. I can’t erase the past between us, and I can’t erase how much I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you either.” I briefly gnawed on the inside of my cheek to filter myself from pouring out the whole truth. “I’m just trying to be honest about who I am and what I want.”
“You want to fuck.”
“You.”
He chuffed out a laugh as the steward popped his head out from the back of the plane. “If you gentlemen want to buckle in, we have clearance to taxi out.”
“Right.” I nodded at the steward, giving him a professional and cordial smile. “Thank you.”
I turned to Owen and dipped my chin toward my chest. He leaned in closer to listen and it took every ounce of strength in my body to not lick him from his jaw to his temple.
“So, you either want that or you don’t,” I whispered. “I’m not promising you anything more.”
Even though I wanted to.
Even though it was all on the tip of my tongue.
Owen scoffed and straightened up. “You never have.”
He studied me with such a focused intensity that it very nearly took my breath away. The attention from his stare had me wanting to look away because I knew he didn’t see me for who I was, but only who he remembered. A twenty year-old who didn’t know up from down and wouldn’t have known love if it punched him in the face—which Owen very well should have done. His first new impressions had been of a prick who backed him against a wall in an alley and made him come, then showed up at his hotel room and did it all over again, that time with a side of rug burn. Now, I’d chartered a private plane to go get him and bring him back to me like he was a thing to be bartered or sold.
“Let’s sit down,” I said, forcing my knees to bend and lowering myself back into the seat.
“This is ridiculous,” he mumbled, doing the same.
“I hope you can survive it.”
The steward made an appearance, closing the door and locking us in, then bringing us each a crystal tumbler of whiskey for take-off.
Owen gave me an annoyed look, but I could tell it was all bark and no bite. He could pretend to be as put-off as he wanted by the whole thing, but there was no one who didn’t like flying on a private plane. There was no one who didn’t enjoy—at least sometimes—being treated maybe a little better than they thought they deserved.
He could bluster and bristle and try to convince me he disapproved of me and my show of wealth, but I knew better because I watched the way his hands spread across and stroked the leather seat as he got ready to go. The way his tanned skin and tattoos clashed with the supple white color of the leather. The way his jeans were a little dirty around the knees and the way his belt looked like it was the same one he’d worn for our entire lives, all worn down and soft, andloved.
Like him.
Even if he didn’t know it.
CHAPTER12
OWEN
Archer lookedat me like he was in love with me. And I knew the look because it wasn’t a new one. He’d worn it that night in my basement when we were together for the first time. He tried to hide it, just like he had back then, but I could see the softness in the lines around his eyes when he didn’t think I was looking. All of that washed away once the plane reached cruising altitude. He unclasped his seatbelt and stood, bringing his belt to my eye level. There was a noticeable bulge behind his zipper, the material of his slacks looking soft as silk.
“How long can you stay in L.A. for?” he asked, striding toward the couches tucked closer to the rear of the plane.
