His getaway

Zayn tilted his head, his gaze dropping to my lips for a second too long. "Maybe I wanted some privacy with you."

My heart stuttered. "Privacy?"

"Mmhmm," he leaned back in his seat, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "No distractions. No cameras. No fear of someone seeing you. Just us. Learning, doing things that make us smile a vacation."

I blinked, my throat suddenly dry. The way he said "just us" sent a ripple of heat through me. It was like every word, every look, was designed to fluster me.

And it was working.

"So…" I cleared my throat, "What's the plan, Mr. Confidence?"

He smiled, slow and deliberate, "First, I'm going to make sure you're comfortable."

Before I could react, he stood up and crossed the short distance between us. He crouched down in front of me, his hands gently touching my calves. My breath hitched.

"Zayn, what are you—?"