Page 95 of The Rancher's Wedding Deception

“There you are.” His gray eyes swept over her, warm and proprietary in a way that made her skin tingle. “I was beginning to think you’d made another run for it.”

“Very funny.”

“I wasn’t joking.”

Her heart ached.

This man, oh, this man...

“I’m yours,” she whispered.

Something flashed in his eyes.

Something...that she herself wasn’t quite ready to decipher.

Especially since she wasn’t quite sure that something would last...once she told him the truth.

“It can wait.” He was already pulling her toward the back of the plane. “But first...” Paul guided her through a door at the rear of the cabin, and whatever she’d been about to say evaporated entirely.

A bedroom.

There was a bedroom on this plane.

She should have expected this, shouldn’t she?

And...it wasn’t just some small room, but a suite.

With a queen-sized bed that dominated the space, its linens crisp and white against dark wood paneling. Soft lighting cast everything in a warm glow, and through the windows, she could see clouds drifting past like cotton scattered across an endless blue.

“This is where we’d, um...sleep?”

Paul’s hands settled on her waist as he turned her to face him. “Who says anything about sleeping?”

His mouth found hers before she could respond, and any remaining thoughts about confessions or bank transfers simply...dissolved.

This kiss...

It was different from the others.

Slower.

Deeper.

Like her husband had all the time in the world and intended to use every second of it.

His hands slid up her back, fingers tracing the line of her spine through the delicate fabric of her wedding dress. Andie melted against him, her own hands finding his shoulders, gripping the fine wool of his jacket.

“I’ve been wanting to do this,” Paul murmured against her lips, “since the moment you walked toward me in that courtroom.”

“We’ve been married for—” She tried to think. Failed. “—three hours?”

“The longest three hours of my life.”

He was walking her backward, slow and deliberate. Her knees hit the edge of the bed, and she sat down hard, the mattress dipping beneath her weight.

Paul loomed over her, one hand braced beside her head, his gray eyes dark with want.

“I’ve thought about this.” His voice was rough. Strained. “Thought about having you in my bed. Thought about all the things I want to do to you.”