“And were any of them trapped in that mine?” Henry’s jaw is tense as he paces around the plane, knuckles white from his grip on his phone. “Let me help you with that answer, Mick. No, they weren’t. They were in their beds with their high-priced escorts sucking their dicks—”

I wince. Whichever corporate lawyer Mick is, he can’t be enjoying this tongue-lashing.

“If I want suggestions from the board on how to manage my company, I’ll ask!” He ends the call and tosses the phone onto an empty seat.

“Everything okay?” I dare ask.

“Yes,” he snaps, then sighs, as if catching his temper. He pushes his hands through his thick mane of chestnut-brown hair, revealing the small scrape he earned in the mine collapse. His only injury, thankfully. “Just Scott still trying to fuck me from his grave.”

Mention of his conspiring, murderous brother has me reaching for my forehead, where bruises still linger from my last run-in with him. Scott has already almost succeeded in taking Henry from me once, thanks to that old mine he’d been funneling company money into, unbeknownst to everyone. Henry made a terrible mistake going into it. He could’ve died in there.

What else has Scott done?

Henry sees my reaction and the anger radiating from him dissolves instantly. He settles into the cream leather seat across from me and pitches forward, collecting my hand. “He can’t hurt either of us anymore.” He kisses my knuckles, his beautiful blue eyes catching the engagement ring he slipped on this morning. The gold band is thin, the pearl centerpiece perfectly round with an iridescent luster, surrounded by a cluster of tiny diamonds. It’s simple, and nothing like one might expect from the owner of Wolf Enterprise. It was his grandmother’s ring.

Who knew the hard-nosed billionaire tycoon who once intimidated me would be so sentimental?

I smile. I did. At least, I figured it out somewhere along the way to falling madly in love with him.

And now Henry Wolf is all mine.

He leans into his seat and rests his head, showing off a protruding Adam’s apple and that delicious cleft in his chin. Absent is the tailored suit I’ve grown accustomed to seeing him in. Today, he chose dark blue jeans and a soft charcoal gray cashmere shirt that hugs his powerful torso in all the right places.

While I can’t decide which version of Henry I love more, this casual one always gets my blood flowing, especially when his legs are splayed, drawing my attention to a part of him that has brought me so much pleasure over these past months.

“I was thinking about this meeting with Margo’s Nordstrom friend next week.”

“Yeah?” My eyes divert from their intent focus.

Henry is smirking at me. His hand slides to rest on his thigh, his fingers drumming inches away from the prize. “What are you thinking about, Abbi?” His eyebrow arches. “Being full last night?”

My cheeks flush upon mention of our depraved evening. Never would I have expected Henry to share me with another man—let alone Ronan. I can still feel both of them deep inside me. “What about the meeting?” I ask, steering the conversation away from one I’d never want anyone overhearing.

His knowing gaze lingers on me for another few beats before relenting in his teasing. He opens his mouth but then stalls. “Are you nervous about meeting with this buyer?”

“Terrified,” I admit with a laugh. “Like, come on! I make homemade soaps in my parents’ barn using herbs from their garden, wrap them in plastic, and sell them at the Christmas bazaar and the farmers’ market. I don’t know the first thing about this whole big business world. I’m going to make a fool of myself. I don’t even understand what a buyer does.”

Margo wasn’t much help when I asked her. “She chooses all the wonderful things they carry in store!” she exclaimed with glee. But when I asked how and why this Nordstrom buyer chooses what she does, Margo winked and said, “As long as she picks your wonderful thing, what does it matter?” A predictable answer from the enigmatic supermodel who has people falling at her perfect, beautiful feet wherever she goes.

“I can help prep you if you want.” Henry’s lips twist in thought. “But it might not be the right move for you.”

“What do you mean? It’s Nordstrom.” Where’s he going with this?

“This is your company, Abbi. Your brand. No one else’s. You get to call the shots. But do you want my opinion?”

“Of course. Always.” Henry runs a multibillion-dollar empire. There’s no one’s advice I value more, even if it’s for my little soap business.

“Don’t be so quick to hand it over to anyone.”

I frown. “But I thought landing distribution in a department store is the end game.”

“Maybe. But in today’s retail world, maybe not. You clearly have something people want. You’re only just starting out and look at all the demand you’re already stirring up.”

“You mean that Margo is stirring up.” She’s been tapping into beauty industry connections that even Henry doesn’t have.

“She knows who to talk to, I agree.” Henry leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “But you don’t want to lose control too quickly by signing contracts that handcuff you. Besides, a contract like that means you have to find a production facility, which means you risk manufacturing a subpar product because you can’t possibly make that much by hand. That’s something you want to work up to, instead of getting thrown into.”

“So you don’t think I should pursue this.”

He hesitates. “It’s your company.”

I groan with frustration. “Henry, you’ve been involved with my company since this all started. Now you’ve decided to stay out of it?”

“Fine. I don’t think you should take the deal.” His voice has shifted to that typical commanding tone. “You can have a highly successful business without your product ever touching a shelf inside a store, at least for now. My advice is to stay the course. Build your name on your own first. Retail store contracts will be worth that much more later.”

I weigh Henry’s words. “Zaheera seems to know what she’s doing.” In the time since Henry hired and paid for Nailed It to step in and help me make something of my hobby, I now have stylish packaging, a website, and a basic but perfect new name—Farm Girl Soap—for my legal company.

“They’re the best at what they do. That’s why we went with them.”

“We?” There was no “we” in that decision the day I got the phone call from Zaheera.

Henry ignores me. “She’ll make sure it grows at a healthy rate that you’re comfortable with, so you’re not overwhelmed. Besides, you still have a degree to finish, right?”

I wince at the reminder. “I’m so behind.” After my father’s accident, when I knew I couldn’t head back to Chicago to finish my last year full-time because my parents needed help, I enrolled in correspondence courses. I’ve barely touched the assigned work for this semester, too wrapped up in life with Henry.

“You’ll get there.” He takes my hand in his, his thumb sliding over the pearl. “And now you have a wedding to plan too.”

A thrill radiates through me as I admire the ring again. My wedding to Henry. Because Henry will be my husband soon. It still doesn’t feel real, and I doubt it will until I’m walking down the aisle. “If I can wrestle it away from Mama.” I held my breath when I announced the good news over the phone just before leaving Wolf Cove, not sure what to expect from a woman who has done everything in her power to keep Henry and me apart, including ingesting caffeine pills to fake a heart attack.

The whoop of glee that escaped her had my mouth hanging. According to her, Henry is doing the honorable thing … finally. We’ve only been together a few months.

Henry chuckles. “At least she’s not knitting a Henry doll to burn in effigy.”

“Have you met Bernadette Mitchell? She’d be afraid God himself would strike her with lightning for something so sinful as black magic.”

His laughter grows, his eyes twinkling. “Do you think she’ll keep it quiet—”

“Not a chance.” There won’t be a soul in Greenbank, Pennsylvania, who won’t have heard about my engagement by the end of the day, which means the media will find out shortly after. With all the interest in Henry these days, that’s likely to cause a stir. Will the headlines be kind or judgmental? Worry gnaws at my bliss, threatening to damper it.

“And did you tell her it would be in Alaska?”

“One hurdle at a time.” Though I suspect that will be a monumental one to overcome. Mama will have her heart set on including the entire church congregation, and we can’t possibly be expected to fly them all up there.

Henry’s wry smirk says he guessed as much. “Wolf Hotels has a special events planner for big occasions. I’ll have Miles contact her to call you next week to start the ball rolling. She’s good. Her name is Jill, and she’ll organize anything you want.”

“We want,” I correct him. “It’s your wedding too.”

“Abbi, if it were up to me, we’d be driving to the courthouse from the tarmac as soon as we land, and I’d be fucking my wife by nightfall.”

“How romantic,” I tease, but my stomach flips with nerves. There is something swoony about his sudden impatience to marry me.

A dangerous glint lights in his eye as his grip tightens. “You want romance, Abbi?”

“I want you.”

“You already have me.” He yanks me forward and onto his lap, my legs straddling his thighs. “Every inch of me.” Heat from his strong, skilled hands seer my skin through my black leggings as they slide around to cup either side of my ass, pulling me forward until our torsos are flush against each other and that delicious hard ridge is pressing into the apex at my thighs.

I wind my arms around his neck, my wrists entwined behind his head. “I’ve never been happier in my life,” I whisper, a bubble of exhilaration stirring as I lean in to capture his plump lips.

“Same,” he murmurs against my mouth before our tongues meet in a slow, seductive dance that quickly spirals, his hand seizing a fistful of my hair, angling my head back so he can get closer.

Jack, the co-captain, slips out from the cockpit. “Sorry to disturb. We’re about to start our descent, and we’ll have you on the ground shortly. Is there anything you need in the meantime?”

“Draw the privacy curtain,” Henry demands in a gruff voice.

Could he make it any more obvious?

Heat crawls up my neck as I catch Jack’s sly smile.

“Yes, sir.” He taps his ring finger and mouths “Congratulations” before shutting us out with the thick gray curtain.

I let out a yelp as Henry stands and spins us around, releasing me into the seat he just vacated. He drops to his knees.

“What are you doing?”

“You need to ask that?” He tugs my shoes off and casts them aside, and then his fingers curl around the waistband of my leggings, peeling them, along with my panties, past my ankles, leaving me bare from the waist down.

Moisture pools at my core as he pushes my thighs apart, exposing me to the setting sun that streams in through the portal windows. “We were rough on you last night.” His index finger slides along my folds before easing inside.

I wince at the intrusion. “I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not.” He hooks his arm under my thigh and pulls my body toward him, halfway out of my seat. “But you will be.”

I barely bite back the moan at the first swipe of his tongue, but I can’t stop from crying out as he licks my sensitive flesh. From this angle, I can see everything he’s doing, and I watch intently as he seals his mouth over my clit.

Two fingers plunge in and find that spot deep inside. He puts pressure on it, stirring a flood of warmth.

“No one but me will ever taste you again, Abbi,” he purrs, his voice vibrating deep within me.

“No one,” I pant, my breath ragged as pressure builds low in my belly.

He slips his fingers out and his hands find the backs of my thighs, making my skin slick. He pushes them farther apart, stretching my body as far as it can go as his eyes flip to meet mine.

I see the truth in his hooded gaze, how much he enjoys doing this.

That tongue is mine for the rest of our lives …

His mouth seals over my clit, sucking hard.

My orgasm hits suddenly and unexpectedly. I stifle my cries and grab the back of his head, my fingers digging into his silky hair as I buck against his mouth, trying to get closer, to draw it out.

I haven’t even settled before Henry is unfastening his jeans and pushing them down his thighs. I cry out as he shoves his hard length into me in a single thrust.

“Wait!” I gasp.

He stalls his hips. “Are you that sore?”

“No, I just …” I am that sore, but I’m also desperate to have Henry come inside me. “I just need a minute. Please,” I say, even as I roll my hips against his, urging him to keep moving.

He smiles as he slides his cock out and back in, much slower this time, giving my body time to adjust to the intense, almost unbearable fullness of him. Over and over again, Henry pulls out and pushes back in with gentle thrusts, until my hips are lifting to meet his eagerly, begging for more.

“Fuck, Abbi,” he growls. “Sweater off, now.” He helps me tug it off and tosses it aside. Slipping a hand beneath my back, he has my bra unfastened with one expert flick of his fingers. In a split second, that’s cast aside, too, leaving me naked.

He peels his sweater off, giving me a delicious view of his sculpted chest.

“Please don’t let us crash,” I pant, my body flushed from being so exposed, especially with two men in the cockpit who know exactly what we’re doing.

“What a way to go, though.” Henry guides my legs over his shoulders and plunges harder into me, his hips slamming against my thighs. The angle is ideal, hitting me deep with each thrust. Soon, all discomfort has faded from thought, my body eager to welcome his. I revel in his touch as he fills his hands with my breasts, the pads of his thumbs teasing my pebbled nipples with merciless strokes.

Slipping my fingers between us, I rub circles around my clit.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his eyes filled with raw desire. “You’re about to come again, aren’t you.” It’s not a question.

“Yes.” That familiar warmth is spreading through my middle, a tingle creeping along my spine. He knows my body so well.

“Let me hear you this time,” Henry forces out through gritted teeth, picking up the pace. My slickened body accepts his hard thrusts. Not even the jet’s engines can drown out the wet sounds of our bodies enjoying each other. Everything about Henry—the feel of his hands on me, the scent of his skin, the sound of his voice, his cries—makes my body sing, and I fall deeper into the endless pit of love for this man.

“I want to hear you, Abbi.” His fingers clamp down over my nipples, just shy of the point of pain. “I want everyone to hear how fucking good my cock feels, how much you love having it inside you.” He punctuates his words with his thrusts.

A surge of blood rushes to my core with his dirty words and his illicit touch, swelling the flesh between my legs. I don’t mute myself this time, letting my cries sail as an orgasm rips through me, my muscles contracting around Henry’s hard length. He follows seconds later, his face contorting with the guttural sounds that escape his parted lips. I feel him pulse inside me as he unloads in wave after wave until all that’s left is our ragged breaths and spent, slick bodies.

“Kiss me,” I demand softly.

He leans down, his lips soft and pliable as they touch mine. Affectionate.

“Was that loud enough for you?” I tease.

He grins. “Yes, much better. Thank you.”

“Well, I understood the assignment, Mr. Wolf.”

Henry chuckles and, peeling away, steals a glance out the portal window. “We’re about to land.” He pulls free and then does something unexpected by slipping a finger between my legs, coating it in a mixture of us. He holds it against my lips.

With a grin, I open my mouth and suck hard, tasting the saltiness.

A sexy smirk curls Henry’s lips. “How far my innocent little farm girl has come.”