At thirty thousand feet, the cabin of the Harrington private jet had become a pressurized vacuum, systematically stripping Julian Caldwell of his logic. The dim, golden ambient light danced off the surface of crystal flutes, but Julian's focus was anchored to a single point: Selena's emerald eyes, watching him with a lethal, predatory intensity.
The touch of her fingers against his lips was more than mere contact; it was the key that turned the lock on a Pandora's box of history. Julian tried to draw a breath, but he inhaled only the scent of sandalwood and vanilla,the fragrance that had served as his oxygen for five years.
"Don't lie to yourself, Julian," Selena whispered, her voice as hauntingly sweet as a siren's song, designed to lure sailors to the ocean floor. "You can build a thousand walls; you can date a thousand ordinary girls. But in the end, only I know how to make your heart beat like this."
