The Stopover (The Miles High Club 1)

I smile as I pull my fingers through his dark hair. “Did you come all the way across town to make out with me on the street?” I ask innocently.

“No.” He smirks. “But now that I’m here, it’s the only thing I want to do.”

We kiss again, and it’s slow and tender, and I feel my arousal fly in like a 747.

His hard length makes an appearance up against my stomach, and I smile broadly.

“What?”

“Is he coming to dinner?” I ask.

He chuckles. “Well, he does seem to want to hang around whenever you are near.”

“Hanging isn’t a word that I would use to describe that thing.”

His eyes sparkle with a certain something, and he takes my hand in his. “Let’s go this way.”

“We’re walking?” I ask in surprise.

“I got dropped off. They’ll pick us up later. We’ll catch a cab from here to the restaurant.”

“Okay.”

We walk around the corner, and he hails a cab, and we climb into the back of it. “Waverly Place, please.”

“Okay.” The driver pulls out into the traffic.

“How long have you lived in New York?” I ask.

“My whole life.”

“Your parents live here?” I frown. I can’t imagine growing up in a city like this.

“Yes, although I went to school elsewhere.”

“Where did you go to school?”

“Many places—finished in Aspen.”

I stare at him. What the hell? “You went to school alone in Aspen?”

“No, I always had my brothers with me.” He picks my hand up and kisses the back of it with a soft smile.

I stare at him. We come from completely different worlds. I can’t even fathom his upbringing.

“What’s that look?” he asks.

“I wasn’t even allowed to have a sleepover at my friend’s place.”

“Independence has always been encouraged in my family.”

I smile as I think of something.

“What?”

“If you’ve been living on your own since you were . . . ?” I pause as I wait for his answer.

“Twelve.”