The Bet (Winslow Brothers 1)

My chest feels like a vise around my heart, and one particular question stands out in my mind. Now that I know this is a work trip, I’ve got an entirely different perspective on his job. I don’t know why, but I’d assumed he only worked in New York.

“Would you ever…uh…move to Vegas?”

“Fuck no,” he responds on a scoff. “I’m a New Yorker through and through, babe.”

The breath I didn’t realize I was holding escapes my lungs on a deep but silent exhale.

Almost as if his answer gave me relief. Which is…strange.

“Are you trying to get rid of me or something?” he teases, and I shake my head on a giggle.

“No. Well, not yet, at least.”

“Not yet?” he repeats and places a hand to his chest like he’s in pain. “As in, one day soon, you’ll want to? Damn, Sophie, you wound me.”

“Oh, get over yourself.” I reach out and slap a playful hand onto his thigh. “You and I both know that you’re not about the long-term commitment kind of thing. This, all the fun we’re having together, it will end one day.”

Gah. I know it’s true—that’s why I said it. I just didn’t expect voicing it to feel so uncomfortable.

Jude doesn’t say anything but, instead, searches my eyes for a long moment. I can’t quite figure out what’s rolling through his head, and when he still doesn’t say anything, I have the urge to find some kind of distraction. So, I take it upon myself to get up from my seat and walk around the cabin.

I look at the food and champagne that have been set up for us by the flight attendant named Peggy, who is currently busy in the galley.

I run my fingers across the cream leather seats toward the back of the plane. And when I stop at the end of the small hallway, I peek into a room and find that it’s the bathroom.

But it’s not a typical plane bathroom. It’s a fancy private plane bathroom.

More spacious and modern than I’ve ever witnessed inside a cabin. But that doesn’t mean anything because I’ve only ever experienced the sardine-can–sized bathrooms on commercial flights. You know, the ones where trying to pee feels like you’re auditioning for Cirque du Soleil.

The longer I gawk at the massive shower and spacious sink, the more my mind is blown.

This is the Taj Mahal of plane bathrooms!

“What are you looking at, babe?” Jude asks from somewhere behind me.

“Uh…have you seen this bathroom? It’s freaking huge!” I call over my shoulder. “I feel like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. Give me a phone, Jude, because I need to call Kit and tell her this bathroom is bigger than the Blue Banana!”

“Fan of the bathroom, I take it?” he asks, and I look over my shoulder to find him grinning.

“Who wouldn’t be a fan of this bathroom? Pretty sure there’s a plane full of people on a Delta flight right now who would give up their right kidney to have this bathroom inside their cabin.”

He laughs at that, and I look back inside the spacious room, my mind still reeling that this kind of bathroom is even possible on a freaking plane.

“You know, the Mile High Club never made sense to me,” I comment. “Logistically, I mean. But now, after seeing this bathroom, I get it. Sex in an airplane really is possible if you’re flying on a swanky private jet like this. But those tiny-ass excuses inside commercial ones? I still say you’re just asking for a concussion and a pulled groin muscle.”

Within seconds, Jude is on his feet and all up in my personal space. He grabs me by the hips, pulls us both into the bathroom, and shuts the door with a kick of his heel just as he gently pushes my back against the wall. “Lift up your sexy little skirt and take off your panties, babe.”

“Excuse me?” I question, but also, a panting little breath slips past my lips.

Jude doesn’t falter. Doesn’t hesitate. His blue eyes blaze as he stares down at me and repeats his demand. “Take…off…your…panties. I’m going to give you a banana you can call Kit about.”

It’s almost sad how quickly I obey, a grin drifting over my face at the cuteness of his joke.

But…this is Jude. And while I might never see these panties again, I know I’ll at least be getting an earth-shattering orgasm as a trade-off.

Thursday, March 22nd

Jude

After a five-hour plane ride and an Escalade escort to our hotel, Sophie and I have officially made it to Las Vegas in the wee hours of Thursday morning.

The town is bright and lively, proving it truly is the city that never sleeps.

“Oh my gosh! This living room is bigger than my whole apartment, Jude!”

And the penthouse Billy Jones and the rest of Electric’s investors put us up in at the Venetian apparently doesn’t disappoint either.