Page 63 of Brewer Family Collection, Part 1

Jason

“ W ill advise when I have the weather. November-Four-Four-Five-Whiskey-Xray,” I say before taking my thumb off the radio button.

Chloe giggles, and the sound is like music through my headset. “In English, please?”

“I’m telling the guy on the approach frequency that I’ll let them know when I’ve listened to the radio broadcasting the weather.”

Her face is lit up, as bright as it has been since we arrived on the tarmac earlier tonight.

The previous couple of hours were hectic.

Mara’s excitement over my engagement was palpable.

She offered to come immediately so I could whisk my fiancée away.

I started to decline her offer, figuring Chloe and Mimi had had enough excitement for one day.

But Mimi interjected, something I’m discovering happens often, and Chloe held her breath. I took my chances and here we are.

On our way to get married.

I fight against the smile tickling my lips as the thought runs through my mind again and again.

This situation is against everything I am in so many ways. Yet … here I am.

Chloe peers into the night sky, more relaxed than I’ve seen her in a long damn time.

Her skin is smooth and her shoulders slack.

I kick myself for not noticing how stressed she must’ve been lately.

While she was worrying about me—scheduling massages and ordering me dinner to arrive once I was home—she needed someone to be worrying about her.

I tell myself it was because I had no reason to believe she was struggling. But that’s just an excuse.

And it’ll never happen again … although it seems I have a habit of not seeing what’s in front of my face. Thanks, Dad, you fucker.

“Are you doing okay over there?” I ask.

Chloe rolls her head to face me, her thick lashes fluttering. “This is pretty incredible. I’ve dreamed of this a million times and knew it would be something to see, but it’s better than I imagined.”

“It’s pretty dark out there. Wait until we fly home. It’ll be light out, and you’ll see some beautiful landscapes.”

Her lips twitch. “I’m not talking about landscapes, Jason.”

I smirk as her gaze travels over my jaw, down my shoulders, and along the length of my arms.

“Just when I think you can’t get any hotter, I get to watch you fly a plane,” she says, grinning.

“That makes sense,” I say, bracing myself for her reaction. “Every woman who finds out I’m a pilot is instantly turned on.”

She gasps. “Hey! You can’t talk about other women now. I’m about to be your wife, Mr. Brewer.”

She’s only playing, but I’m not.

I lift a brow. “And hearing you call yourself my wife is, by far , the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Her playfulness switches to lust, and I feel the heat in my cock.

Our connection has shifted seamlessly from friends to soon-to-be lovers, a term I’m ready to unhyphenate as soon as possible.

I’ve tried to play it cool and ensure I’m not taking advantage of her.

But she brushed her hand against my groin when getting into the car, swiped her ass against my cock when boarding the plane, and wore the lowest-cut top she owns.

She wants this as much as I do.

And I’m here to help … and please.

God, I want to please her.

“I thought the hottest thing you’ve ever heard would be something like the safety reports are all on your desk, and there are no violations ,” she jokes, pulling her sweater tighter. The movement causes her breasts to press together and amplifies her cleavage.

I chuckle. “That is pretty hot.”

Her laughter’s quick, and I want to reach out and touch her. Stroke the side of her face. Let my fingertips dance up her thigh. Press my hand into the small of her back and guide her to me.

But I can’t. Not yet.

If it kills me, and it might, I will show her respect. I’ll wait until she proves this is what she wants by going through with it. By marrying me .

“What are you thinking?” she asks.

I hide a smile.

“Tell me,” she says.

“I was just thinking that you were my assistant yesterday, and today we’re on our way to get married—and we weren’t even in a relationship.”

“It’s kind of perfect, huh?”

My brow furrows as I look at her.

“Relationships are a pain in the ass,” she says. “What’s the point of them? To get to know each other?” She shrugs. “Well, I know you better than I would’ve had we been dating. I’ve seen you every day for years, and I’ve seen you at your best and not so best.”

That makes me laugh.

“We skipped the getting-to-know-you and are going right to the fun,” she says, her grin mischievous.

She has a point.

“Do you think anyone in the office will believe we’ve been secretly dating?” she asks. “I’m kinda worried it’ll be weird on Monday.”

“What can I do to make it less weird?”

She shrugs.

“Well, first, I don’t give a fuck what anyone believes,” I say. “My private life is none of their concern. Second, I’ll fire anyone who makes you feel uncomfortable. And, third, if you really don’t want to be there, you can work from home. Or quit. Or go work for Tate.”

“Yeah. No thanks on that last option.”

I chuckle.

“Can I ask you something else?” she asks.

“Sure.”

“Why did you agree to this so quickly?” She nibbles a fingernail. “You didn’t even think about it.”

“Because I know what I want.”

Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t speak. She keeps biting her nail.

“I told you we can’t have secrets between us,” I say, adjusting our altitude.

“So, in the spirit of transparency, when this opportunity came along, it wasn’t hard to agree to it because I’ve known for a long time that if I were ever to marry anyone…

” I settle back and face her. “You were the only choice.”

She gasps, her lips puckering into the sweetest pout.

“I know this is for six months.” I drag my gaze away, my stomach churning. “And that’s fine. But I’ll know what it’s like to be married because I’ll likely never do it again.”

“Jason …”

She says my name as if it were a question and a statement.

I don’t dare look at her because I’m unsure what to say.

I told her the truth— well, most of it, anyway.

Six months won’t be enough for me . I’ll never be sorry for telling her what I think she can manage.

I only hope the truth doesn’t scare the shit out of her.

“I had no idea,” she says, stammering.

I shrug. “You weren’t supposed to have an idea. You were my good friend and my excellent EA.” I grin. “But, come on. You had to know I think you’re beautiful. How many times have we been seconds away from crossing lines?”

“A hundred.” She shifts in her seat. “But okay. This is good information.”

“It is?”

“Yes. It is.” She takes a breath, releasing her grip on her sweater. “This should add pressure to the situation, but it really takes it off.”

“How do you figure?”

“Well, we’re going to be married anyway. I know we said we’d treat it like a real marriage, but that was still under the guise of the bet. But if we look at it like we’re curious about marriage, even if we don’t really want it, we may as well experience it.”

I like where this is going.

“I’m going to be your wife, Mr. Brewer,” she says, her voice filled with a naughtiness that constricts my entire body. “We’re marrying because of the bet. We’re going all in because we want to.”

Fucking hell.

She lays her palm on my leg precariously close to my groin. There’s enough pressure to send bolts of electricity rippling through my veins but not enough to feel satisfied.

Her hair is pulled back from her face, and the front of her shirt scoops just above the top of her bra. Her nipples are hard, pebbling through the thin fabric of her T-shirt that she leaves bared for me to see.

I fight a swallow, reminding myself I’m flying an airplane.

The tips of her fingers tease my cock. I snatch her hand in a snap and then bring it to my lips. Her hand is tiny, fitting easily inside mine as I press the slightest kiss to her palm. She moans softly, her eyes fluttering closed as I release her.

“Were you being serious earlier?” she asks, opening her eyes. “When you said you thought about me in the shower?”

“And in my bed. And this plane. God knows how many times I’ve imagined you on your hands and knees under my desk with my cock in your mouth while I do business.”

“All you had to do was ask.”

My insides burn as she toys with me. “That’s illegal, I’m pretty sure.”

“Not if I’m willing. What about blow jobs on airplanes? Are those illegal?”

I laugh—a mix of frustration and need—as the lights of Vegas come into view. I’ve never been happier to see a destination in my career.

“November-Four-Four-Five-Whiskey-Xray, cleared to land,” Tower says. “Runway Two-Five-Left. Winds are Two-Seven-Zero at Fifteen.”

I repeat the information back.

“I take it that means we’re almost there,” Chloe says.

“We’ll be on the ground in a few minutes.”

Our gazes connect, and her smile pulls at the corners of my mouth.

She’s going to be my wife.

And I have six months to convince her to make it forever.