She giggled. Giggled. Her cheeks pinked, and goddamn, if this plane didn’t get to the gate and un-board them, he was going to pull the emergency hatch.

We play and tease, but―darn it―he has not dragged me into the rain and kissed me senseless yet. And that's how it's supposed to happen. I know; I read romance novels.

Your booty call embargo will remain intact.