"You're giving me Christmas."

He chuckles and spins me around until I'm facing him. "I know you're away from home and away from your dad, and if I could fly you home in time for Christmas Day you know I would. But since Mother Nature has decided to leave us stranded here together for the holidays, I wanted to give you something that I knew you really wanted. You love Christmas. You've been playing those annoying Christmas songs on repeat in your office for weeks now. Especially when you think no one is around. Your eyes lit up at the Christmas displays we saw today. I can't give you Christmas with your family, but I want to give you Christmas with me."

"Oh my God. I . . ." I'm speechless. He's rendered me fucking speechless.

Staring up into those beautiful lush green eyes of his, full of sincerity and something else I can't quite pinpoint, I decide I want to lose myself in this man. Even if we fly home tomorrow and everything changes-I want him tonight.

"You gave me Christmas," I whisper and a slow sexy smile grows on his face as tears well up in my eyes.

"You deserve all of this and more, Harlow Wilson, and I want to be the man to give you the world."

That does it. Tears fall down my cheeks. I bite my lip to try and rein in my scattered emotions but fail miserably. I look down at the ground, embarrassed that I'm crying like a girl at what should be a happy time.

Bending down so we're at eye level, Porter puts a finger beneath my chin and lifts my head up so we're looking at each other. "I mean every word." He leans forward and kisses me softly, slowly. It's as if he's trying to tell me how he's feeling with this kiss. It's addictive, it's heady, and God, it's so damn good, I don't ever want it to end.

He pulls back, piercing with a stare that is so full of hunger, I feel like the gazelle being offered up to the lion. Except in my case, I'd go willingly.

"I want you in my life, Harlow. I've wanted you for so damn long. I met you, and I wanted you. Straight up. Then and there, you changed the way I saw the world. I've had the privilege of spending the day with you, being able to do things that normal couples do every day, and I want it. I want it with you. Not just now, or tomorrow. I want us to try making this something real."

He walks me backwards toward the fire, gently lowering me onto a bed of pillows that have been laid out for us. I can't speak, still choked up with the lump in my throat and the shock of hearing Porter say all the words I've only dreamt he'd ever say to me.

How does a girl respond to that? He's just said that I changed his life. He wants something with me. Wants to try and make this thing between us a thing.

Oh God, now I've lost my ability to think of anything coherent and meaningful.

Then he leans up and rests his forearms on either side of my head, running his fingers through my hair before leaning his forehead against mine. "I need you to say the words, Har. I need to hear that you want this too." His eyes are hooded, full of desire and need, but there is a hint of wariness in there. He's showing me the vulnerable side that I know for a fact very few people see.

Fuck, it's sexy as sin.

"I've wanted you forever, Porter. I'd given up hope of being with you."

"Don't ever give up on me, sweetheart. I'll never give you a reason to, but promise me now that you'll never give up on us without talking to me."

"Never," I whisper hoarsely.

He smiles and gives me another soft, probing kiss, causing my body to arch up against his as he stokes the fire that's been simmering inside me all day. "So . . . the next time someone asks if we're together?"

Ding, ding, ding. NOW I get it. Suddenly, everything seems crystal clear.

"I want you. I've wanted you since I met you."

"Thank fucking God!" he spits out before plunging his tongue into my mouth.

Under the flashing lights of my Christmas tree, by the raging fire in my hotel suite in Chicago, Porter and I make love all night long, pouring our feelings into every kiss, every touch, every thrust of our hips against each other.

And by the time we collapse in a sated heap on the floor, our limbs tangled together and my head resting heavy on his shoulder, I know that being stranded in Chicago is going to change my life forever.

Chapter 9.

Porter It was one of the best nights of my life. Making love to Harlow and finally giving in to my undeniable attraction to her rates right up there with my first solo flight as one of the most thrilling and satisfying moments I've ever experienced.

It was only surpassed by the feeling of waking up Christmas morning with the woman I care about in my arms. Granted, I had a sore back from sleeping on the floor all night, but I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat.

I feel her move and tilt my head down to see her looking up at me, her eyes half open, half closed, her dark hair mussed and an adorable smile gracing those delicious lips of hers.

"Morning, sweetheart."

"Merry Christmas," she replies with a voice that can only be described as fifty percent sweet and fifty percent sex. My morning wood pulses against her thigh which is draped comfortably across my hips, and the tightening of her fingers against my chest tells me instantly she didn't miss it.

"Something else is happy to wake up next to you too," I add, shamelessly.

"Well, Merry Christmas to me."

"Hold that thought. You were all over me last night, so I couldn't give you your present."

Without warning she jumps up onto her knees, totally forgetting she's naked, and claps her hands excitedly. I shamelessly rake my eyes up and down her body, unabashedly enjoying the show until her eyes meet mine and every thought leaves my head except the desire to lose myself in her once more. The heat I see reflected back tells me everything I need to know; Harlow is fully on board with my new plan.

The presents can wait.

Harlow A few hours after waking up and giving Porter my own personal Christmas present in the form of oral sex, which was overshadowed by the screaming orgasm-or two but who's counting-he gave me in return, we received word that it was safe enough to fly out if we wanted to.

After discussing it with Grayson and my dad, we decided to fly home so that we could spend the rest of the day with our families without missing out on all of the holidays.

Due to not having any passengers on the return leg of our flight, I was able to sit back and relax while my gorgeous man and Grayson flew us back to Seattle. Back to reality and work, and in time for me to spend the evening with my father, saving him a Christmas on his lonesome, which was my biggest concern about being stuck in Chicago.

In saying that, I would not give up the last two days with Porter for all the tea in China. Or the rain in Seattle. But I'm still over the moon to be heading home; he is just another reason for the huge smile I can't wipe off my face.

The cockpit door opens and I look up to see the tall frame of Porter Daniels walking toward me. Raising an eyebrow at him, I watch his body with avid appreciation as he reaches my seat and sits across the table from me.

"Keeping your distance already?" I ask jokingly, immediately regretting it when I see his grin suddenly drop. He reaches for my hand and links our fingers together, leaning forward and lifting my wrist to his mouth where he places a soft, reverent kiss before resting our joined hands back down on the table.

"I don't think I'll ever want to stay away from you, sweetheart. But I figured sitting over here was safer. I need to have a physical barrier between us, considering I can think of nothing better to do than making you a card-carrying member of the mile-high club."

My eyes flare with heat and if his muttered growl is anything to go by, he doesn't miss my interest in the idea.

"Stop that thought. I have to get us back to Seattle in one piece, and as good as Grayson is, he can't land this plane by himself."

"Spoil sport," I whisper back at him.

"Temptress."

I give myself a pretend pat on the back when I see him reach down and obviously adjust himself. Round one to me! "Always."

He shakes his head, obviously trying to get the blood heading back north. "We're about thirty minutes out. I wanted to talk to you before we have to leave our Chicago bubble."

"We were in a bubble?" I feign innocence as I squeeze his hand reassuringly.

"You know what I mean. I know I kinda laid it all out last night at the hotel, but I want you to know that it doesn't matter where on earth we are, my feelings for you are real and I want you to always remember that."

"You make it sound like things might be different?"

He puts his other hand over mine, his warmth surrounding me. "I'm not going to change. I might be unemployed, but I've wanted you for a long time, Har. Nothing, not even your father's wrath, will stop me from caring about you."

I giggle. Then snort. Which makes me giggle even more. I chance a look at Porter, who is frowning back at me. "Glad you find it amusing," he grumbles as he tries to release my hand.

I flex my fingers and hold on tight, not willing to let him go. Hell, I don't ever want to let this man go, his employment status be damned.

"My dad only wants one thing in this world, and that is for me to be happy. You, Porter, you make me happier than I have been in a very long time. I want you as long as you want me. I don't care if you're the chief pilot or my chief sex slave, I don't want anything to change just because we're back on home soil."

"So we're on the same page?" he asks. The look on his face is so adorable and sexy that now more than ever, I want to take him up on his offer to join the mile-high club invitation. I nod, biting my lip to stop myself from begging this man to take me hard and fast on the table.

"Stop that!"

"Stop what?" I ask.

"Stop thinking those thoughts. Dirty thoughts. Very, very dirty thoughts. You bite your lip when you're thinking sexy, dirty, very naughty things and I want you to save those for when we've landed and I can take you home to my bed, where you and those dirty, sexy thoughts belong." He pulls his hand away, leans over the table and pulls me up to my feet before planting a very hard, probing, leave-me-breathless kiss on my lips.

He releases me, and after checking I'm steady-ish on my feet, he flashes me a double-dimpled grin and turns away.

"Hey, do you want to catch up later?"

He looks back at me. "I thought you'd be spending the day with your father."

"I plan to." I take a deep breath, deciding to put my big girl panties on. "But I'd like to see you later on, too. If you want to that is."

"Did that kiss tell you anything other than how much I want you?"

I pause, letting his words sink in. There is no other way to interpret that kiss. "Ah, yeah. I guess that's a yes then?"

"It's an abso-fucking-lutely. Give me a call when you're finished with your dad and I'll give you directions to my house. I want you in my bed tonight."

"Okay," I reply, struggling to sound unaffected. This man continues to rock my world, even when he's standing ten feet away from me.

"I'll see you later then," he adds before walking back into the cockpit and shutting the door.

I sit-read: collapse-back into my chair, trying to slow my racing heart and libido down. What I can't do is wipe the smile off my face.

Half an hour later, we've landed back in Seattle. I leave the boys to do their thing and after a final check of the cabin, I grab my bag and step off the plane. Once inside our building, I go into my office to gather my things. I get sidetracked by some messages on my desk and text my dad to tell him that we've landed and I'm on my way to his place, then head out to the parking lot.

What I don't expect to see when I walk out the front door is a gorgeous blond woman running toward Porter before she jumps into his arms, her legs straddling his waist, kissing him on the lips.

Taking in the scene in front of me, I realize that I'm a fool. A big, stupid fool who believed I was different. I watch while she pulls back and just looks at him before burying her face in his neck and hugging him tight, noticing with a heavy heart that at no time does he try to push her away or stop her.

Not willing to put myself through any more heartache, I rush to my car. Porter calls out my name, asking me to wait, but I can't bear to hear whatever it is he has to say.

Starting my car, I quickly reverse out of my spot and drive off, daring to spare one last glance behind me in the rear-vision mirror where I see Porter standing with his hands on his hips, watching my car leave, and his blond whatever-she-is, still standing by his side.

Merry fucking Christmas.

Chapter 10.

Harlow As soon as I arrive at Dad's house, he knows straight away that something is wrong.

"Tell me," he orders the moment he opens the front door and sees me.

"Dad, I'm okay." I plead with him, hoping he's read between the lines to not push me on it.

"Princess, there is no way you are okay," he comments as I walk past him and into the living room, collapsing on the couch and lying down.

I sigh loudly. I should've known I can't get anything past him. I never could.

"Okay, I'm not fine. But I will be. Eventually. Maybe when I move to Timbuktu and become a nun. With a lot of cats."

He chuckles and I shoot a death stare at him. "No moving and no becoming a nun. Cats are okay, as long as you don't start collecting them like those women you see on that reality television show."

"Animal Rescue?"

"Yeah, that one. What happened?"

"Nothing. I just got my hopes up that someone, I mean something, would happen. But I was misled. I'll be fine after a bottle of wine or three and a week of hibernation."

"Last time I checked you weren't in need of hibernation. Was it Porter?"

My head snaps up and I look over at him. He's sitting in his leather recliner watching me. "How did you know?"

He shakes his head, the concern written all over his face. "Well firstly, that boy has had his eye on you for a while. Secondly, I'm not blind and I'm not dumb. You're not the most subtle person when it comes to showing a man you're interested in them."

My cheeks heat and I bury my face in the arm of the sofa again.

"So I ask again, what did he do?"

"We kind of got together when we were away and I thought . . . Well, we talked about . . . I thought that it was the start of something between us."

"I'm not seeing a problem here, Har," he says, urging me to continue.