“I wish we were on a private jet.” “Why is that?” His eyes drop to my lips once more. “Because I’d break that drought of yours and initiate you into the Miles-High Club.” I get a visual of climbing on top of him, right here, right now. “It’s Mile-High Club . . . not Miles,” I whisper. “No . . . it’s Miles.” He smirks as his eyes darken. “Trust me—it’s Miles.”
