I was reminiscing of the early days with Jace as we left the reception. How we were constantly fighting and of course making up with so rough sex. Maybe Roberto was right about the Stockholm syndro thing because if soone had told four years ago that I’d be sitting on a private jet with Jace Romano, not as his collateral, not as his reluctant bride, but as his wife who actually couldn’t stop smiling at the sight of him, I would’ve laughed in their face.
Yet here I was, barefoot on a cream-colored carpet, wrapped in a cashre blanket, watching my husband pour champagne with the softest smile on his lips.
He had refused to tell where we were going.
"It’s a surprise," he’d said with that maddening calmness that sohow always made my pulse quicken.
"Do I get a hint?" I asked for maybe the tenth ti as he handed a glass.
He shook his head, the corners of his mouth twitching. "Not a chance."
"Not even a little one?" I pouted.
"Nope." He sat across from , unbuttoning the top of his shirt and leaning back with that lazy confidence that should have been illegal. "You just have to trust ."
I rolled my eyes playfully. "You’ve used that line before."
"And it worked." He retorted.
I tried to look unimpressed, but the truth was, it had worked. Every single ti.
The jet was quiet except for the faint hum of the engines. The lights were dimd to a soft glow, the kind that made everything look golden and private. It was impossible not to feel cocooned in the little world we’d built for ourselves — just us, thousands of feet above the ground, far from everything we’d endured.
Jace lifted his glass. "To new beginnings," he said simply.
I raised mine. "To surprises I haven’t agreed to yet."
He chuckled, clinking his glass against mine before taking a sip. "You’ll like this one."
"I’d better," I teased, "or I’m turning this jet around."
"You can’t. I made sure you don’t know where the pilot’s cabin is."
I laughed. He loved when I laughed. I saw it in the way his eyes softened, the way his shoulders relaxed, the way his whole face changed.
"What’s that look for?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.
He tilted his head, studying . "Just wondering how I got lucky enough to have you sitting here with ."
I smiled, pretending not to lt completely. "Hmm, I’m still wondering that too."
He grinned, that quiet, wicked grin that always promised trouble. "Careful, Mrs. Romano."
"Or what?" I said in a teasing whisper.
He didn’t answer right away, He just leaned forward, set our glasses aside, and closed the space between us until his breath brushed my skin.
"That’s cheating, we have to wait." I whispered, but my voice wasn’t steady anymore.
"I never play fair with you," he murmured.
My heartbeat stumbled. The warmth between us was electric. It was familiar yet new, like we were rediscovering each other in this mont. The world below could have fallen apart and I wouldn’t have noticed.
I cupped his jaw, tracing the faint stubble with my thumb. "You’re impossible."
"I know." His voice dropped lower. "But you love anyway."
I smiled softly. "Unfortunately."
His laughter rumbled against my chest as he pulled onto his lap, the blanket slipping off my shoulders. "Say that again."
"No."
He kissed and that was the end of words. I held on to him like my life depended on it as his mouth explored mine.
Every touch, every breath, every heartbeat tangled together in a rhythm that felt like ho. There was no rush this ti, no edge of fear or urgency. Just heat, laughter, and a kind of peace I’d never known I could have with him.
His hands traced my skin, even as I pulled his shirt off bit by bit. When his hands cupped my breasts and his fingers teased my nipples, I threw my head back and let the pleasure course through . My moans filled the air as I conveniently forgot about the staff on the jet.
The warmth his mouth on my nipples as his fingers traced the lines of my pussy through my panties, made even wetter. I wanted to take this to the bedroom, not waiting until we landed anymore.
He knew too well so he stopped the sweet torture and continued to kiss .
When we finally pulled apart, my head rested against his shoulder, and his arms stayed around like he never wanted to let go.
"What if I told you the honeymoon destination was the one place you’ve always wanted to visit?" he murmured near my ear.
I lifted my head slightly. "Paris?"
He smiled. "Close."
"Greece?"
"Closer."
I gasped, sitting up. "Jace. Don’t tell —"
He nodded, eyes gleaming. "Santorini."
My mouth fell open. "You’re joking."
He shook his head. "I promised you sothing beautiful, didn’t I?"
I couldn’t even find words. The man who once terrified , the one who’d dragged into his chaos and turned my life upside down, had just planned the most romantic trip imaginable.
He brushed his fingers over my cheek, his gaze softening. "We’ve spent years surviving, Mira. Now I want you to live."
My throat tightened. "You always say the most dangerous things."
"Dangerous?"
"Because they make fall for you all over again." I said with a cheeky grin.
His hand ca up to the back of my neck, pulling closer. "Then I guess I’ll have to keep saying them."
I leaned into him, smiling through the flutter in my chest. "You’re lucky I love surprises."
"I’m lucky you love ," he corrected.
I kissed him again, slower this ti, the hum of the jet wrapping around us like a lullaby. When I finally pulled back, my voice was barely a whisper. "So... Santorini?"
He nodded, brushing his lips over mine once more. "Welco to our honeymoon, Mrs. Romano."
To say I was excited was an understatent.
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