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His hair is slightly damp, as if he hasn’t been out of the shower long. Did he sleep in after our long night? Or did he go straight back to work when he left my room?
My chest tightens at the memory of the admission he shared with me between orgasms. Is his father the reason he drives himself so hard?
“Good morning.” His voice is a touch rougher than normal, and he examines me in a way that definitely doesn’t screamprofessional. “Did you get much sleep?”
My cheeks heat, but I ignore the sensation. “A couple of hours. How about you?”
One corner of his mouth tugs up. “One or two.”
Throat suddenly dry, I wet my lips, and his gaze instantly drops to my mouth, sharp and focused.
My pulse leaps. Maybe it won’t be easy for him to go back to the way things were either.
He reaches for my suitcase, and I let him take it, even though I’m more than capable of carrying it myself. He handles it as well as his with ease as we walk down the hallway and take the elevator down.
The air surrounding us is thick with unsaid words, and my body is taut with the need to stand closer to him; to run my hand over his chest and press it to the spot above his heart so I can feel the solid thump of its beat. But I resist. I had one night to explore him; to pretend there were no obstacles keeping us apart, and now that’s over.
In the car on the way to the airport, I look out the window, and beside me, Roman loses himself in work on his phone. Honestly, I’m grateful to have a little more time before I have to act as if he’s merely my boss.
I take in the buildings we pass, soaking it all in. One day, I hope I can bring Dad here. I’ll show him what I was lucky enough to see on this trip and discover everything else I haven’t had a chance to yet.
It’s a comfort, imagining that rather than dwelling on the knowledge that I’ll never again experience Roman the way I did last night.
Once we board the King jet, we settle into the seats we sat in previously, facing each other. I deliberately avoid looking at him, instead studying every facet of the cabin, hiding behind a flimsy pretense of normality.
The idea that he can probably tell I’m flustered makes me feel more vulnerable than I like.
And quickly, I realize I’m not hiding anything. When the plane levels out at cruising altitude, I can’t withstand his scrutiny any longer.
As our eyes meet, my stomach drops. The tightness in his expression is like a physical blow. It’s one I’ve never seen before.
“It’s so strange,” I babble. “The time we land in New York will be just after the time we left France. It will be like the next seven hours didn’t happen.”
For a moment, his brows draw together, then his expression softens. “Come here.”
My heart lurches at the command. “What? Why?” I let out a nervous laugh.
God, this is nothing like me. I’m supposed to be mature. I’m supposed to be the kind of woman who can have the most incredible night of her life with her boss and then act as if it never happened.
Roman lowers his voice. “I said come here.”
I unbuckle my seat belt and take a small step. That’s all it takes to be practically standing between his legs. I look down at him, heart pounding and knees shaking. Not from fear, but from the memory of just how hard he made me come last night.
His eyes spark, as if he’s remembering too, and his hands curl into fists on his thighs. “We promised each other one night.”
Too embarrassed to listen to any more, I hold up my hand. “Don’t. I know what we agreed to and I’m fully onboard. I won’t make things weird. I’ll be exactly the professional assistant you?—”
“Chloe.”
The low growl stops me and sends my pulse racing.
Trembling, I whisper, “Yes?”
He looks down, uncurling his fingers and flexing them. Then he focuses on me again. “The next seven hours will be like they never happened.”
I blink, my skin heating. “I know how time zones work. I was just saying it’s a weird feeling.”
His chuckle is low, vibrating over me in the most intimate way, like the way he groaned against my skin.