Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 132649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry. I’ll be fine,” she said again, and his heart just about broke as he understood that despite her terror, she was trying to comfort him. When he didn’t fucking deserve it. “I just need a minute.”
She was bent nearly double, her face almost to her knees and his hand left her nape to stroke gentle circles on her narrow back.
“Take your time, baby,” he murmured, leaning toward her, trying to offer her his heat and strength as a bolster. He began to regale her with facts about the Bombadier Global 7500 they were on.
It wasn’t his jet. It belonged to their generous host, Miles Hollingsworth.
The man used it often for business, since he shuttled between South Africa and London regularly. The plane had just dropped off several of his executives a few days ago—for meetings—and when Miles had learned that Trystan was on his way back he’d generously offered him use of the jet.
Trystan, thinking this would be better for Iris, had happily accepted. The stranded executives would probably have to make their way back to London on a commercial airline.
Trystan regularly rented private jets, but that would have been difficult with the timeframe he’d had to work with. He’d been about to book a couple of first-class seats with his favorite airline when Miles had made the offer.
The pilot’s genial voice welcomed them aboard and informed them that they would be taking off soon and that they could expect turbulence for the first hour or so of their journey before enjoying clear skies for the rest of it.
The cabin attendant, a blonde with a flirtatious smile—who’d introduced herself as Piper when they’d boarded—once again came over to ask if he needed anything before take-off. Trystan shot her an irritated look at her blatant exclusion of the clearly distressed Iris.
“Tea,” he commanded shortly. “With plenty of honey. For Miss Hughes.”
The smile faded from the woman’s lips and a more professional, no-nonsense expression settled on her face.
“Of course. I’ll be right back.” She retreated to the galley, which was situated between the seating area and the lounge, bedroom and bathroom in the back.
“Is it closed?” Iris’s small voice asked from the general vicinity of her knees.
“Yes.” He didn’t bother asking what she meant, knowing she was hyper-focused on that door. “How do I make this better, baby?”
She lifted her head cautiously. Her pretty features were strained, her eyes wild, and her lush lips were quivering.
“I’m not sure,” she admitted on a whisper.
He cradled her face in both hands and did the only thing he could think of. He kissed her.
Iris moaned and leaned into the kiss, her own hands going up to cover his as she opened her mouth to his searching tongue. Trystan was more than happy to acquiesce to her every demand and he deepened the kiss, his tongue seeking refuge in her warm, inviting mouth.
They lost themselves in each other for a few long, satisfying moments and it was only when Trystan eased them both out of the embrace that he became aware of the fact that they were taking off.
Iris came to a simultaneous realization, if her quiet oh was anything to go by, and her bewildered gaze flew, first to the securely shut hatch, then to his eyes.
“How’re you feeling?” Trystan asked and her cheeks darkened. God, she was sweet. She didn’t belong in his world and he had a moment’s misgiving about how it would affect her, terrified that it would ruin her. Eat her up alive and destroy her. If Trish Nesbitt—who’d been an inhabitant of his world—couldn’t survive it, then what the hell chance did someone like Iris have?
But then she smiled and that familiar mischievous spark lit up her gaze.
“No turning back now, huh?” she murmured, and he knew she meant more than just the plane.
“Nope, we’re in this for the long haul,” he said and her lips tilted at the corners.
“Okay.”
“Better?”
“More and more so with every passing moment.” This time she graced him with a full smile and as always, it robbed him of his breath. How the fuck did she do that? One slightly naughty, off-center grin and Trystan was ready to slay dragons for her. It was maddening. Confusing. Fucking exhilarating.
He gradually became aware of someone hovering beside his seat and swung his head to meet Piper’s gaze.
“Tea for Miss Hughes,” she said with an impersonal smile, and Iris’s eyes dropped to the proffered tray in confusion.
“I thought you could use some sweet tea,” Trystan told her and she smiled again, this time gracing the attendant with all that glorious sunshine.
“Thank you so much,” she said, as the woman placed the tray on the table in front of their seats.
“If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask,” Piper told Iris, her voice a little warmer. “And if you’re still feeling under the weather and would like a lie-down, let me know and I’ll turn down the bed for you.”