Born To Be More

The plan

Max

We were watching a movie. Well, she was watching the movie. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

I’ve waited eleven damn years for my mate—and she was living across the fuckin’ world in New Zealand this entire time.

The Moon Goddess chose her for me. For me.

And now, after all these years, she’s finally sitting beside me.

There’s no way I’m letting her go. Not now. Not ever.

Her eyes flutter shut, her head sinking back into the pillow, and I watch her drift off—completely captivated. I want to see her like this every day. Peaceful. Close. Mine.

Christ, I sound like a fuckin’ sap.

Thank the Goddess my brothers aren’t here to see me like this. They’d never let me live it down. Neither of them has met their mates yet, so I know exactly how that conversation would go—especially with Seth.

My old man didn’t meet my mum until he was twenty-six. He used to tell us, “The Moon Goddess always has her timing. Trust her. She doesn’t make mistakes.”

So I waited. Eleven years.

And now she’s here.

Sleeping next to me.

Smelling like heaven and sin.

And completely unaware she’s about to flip my entire world on its axis.

Her head falls softly onto my shoulder, and she lets out a little sigh. God, she’s beautiful.

Tyson, my wolf, purrs in my mind. "You need a plan, Max. We can't let her go."

He’s right. She doesn’t understand what’s happening to her—or to us. She doesn’t know why she’s reacting the way she is, and I need to tread carefully. I have to protect her without coming off like some needy, obsessive prick. That’ll push her away. And I can’t lose her.

I drape the blanket over us both, moving slow so I don’t wake her, and settle back in my seat. Her warmth seeps into me, and I edge a little closer beneath the blanket just to feel more of her against me.

I’m lost in thought, trying to piece together a plan, when she lets out the softest little moan.

Fuck me.

It’s the sweetest damn sound I’ve ever heard.

She moans again, and my d**k reacts like it’s been waiting for the invitation. I catch her scent—sweet, heady, aroused.

Is she wet?

FUCK, is she dreaming about me?

Then she whispers it—“More, Max…”—and her hips shift, grinding the air like she’s searching for me in her sleep.

Holy hell.

My c**k strains so hard against my jeans I swear it’s going to split the zipper in two.

I sit frozen, torn between pride and agony. She’s dreaming about me. And I am one wrong move away from embarrassing myself like a fuckin’ teenager.

The blanket slips off her lap and pools to the floor. Her dress has ridden high up her thighs, revealing creamy skin and the top edge of black thigh-highs. Fuckin' hell.

I lean back and exhale slowly, trying to bring myself under control.

If I don’t get a grip, I’m going to lose it right here at 35,000 feet like some horny fifteen-year-old.

Her hand lands on my lap.

My body goes rigid—literally and figuratively—as her fingers start to trail up my thigh, inching closer to the very problem she's creating.

Fuck. I’m about to embarrass myself like a damn rookie.

I have to stop this. Now.

"Rainey," I murmur, voice low but firm.

"Mmmm," she replies sleepily, her fingers still strumming my thigh.

Holy hell. I bark out a short laugh—half shock, half desperation.

"Rainey," I say again, more urgent this time. No response. Her hand is one breath away from meeting my very alert d**k.

"Rainey." I gently touch her cheek.

Her eyes flutter open, dazed and dreamy—until they drop to where her hand is. The sleepy smile vanishes from her face like a popped bubble, and she snatches her hand back like she's been burned, burying her face in her palms.

I can’t help it. I burst out laughing.

"Max, I'm so sorry, I didn't—" she starts.

I cut her off, grinning. "What were you dreaming about, Rainey?"

"Ah... nothing?" she says, clearly mortified and obviously lying. She’s pissed, but f**k, it’s too good to let slide.

I lean a little closer, teasing, “Didn’t seem like nothing, angel.”

She mumbles something sarcastic about the plane messing with her head, and I know she’s trying to play it off—but I’m not letting her get away that easy.

"Oh, Angel," I say, low and heated, watching the pink creep up her neck. "You should know—I enjoyed your dream very much."

I close the distance just enough that my breath skims the shell of her ear. "The real thing will be much better. I promise."

I lean back slowly, giving her space to breathe. She shifts, tugging her dress down, finally noticing how much thigh she’s showing. I chuckle again—because honestly, this might be one of the best damn days of my life. My d**k’s throbbing, but she smells like pure want and my wolf is pacing.

I’d love nothing more than to bury myself in her and not come up for air until we’re both spent and shaking.

“Max?” she says, squirming a little. “I need to use the bathroom.”

A huge smile spreads across my face. "Do you want me to move... or join you, Angel?"

Her jaw drops—gorgeous.

"Oh, ha-ha. You’ve made fun of me enough, Max. Please just let me out so I can pee."

I stand, and she freezes. She’s staring. Right at my very obvious hard-on. Her face is level with it, and for a second, I swear she’s considering licking the damn zipper.

Please, Goddess.

She bolts past me like she’s on fire. Or being chased.

Oh, baby, if only.

Tyson growls in my head. Me too, Max. We need to help her find her wolf. I want Mate.

“I know, Tyson,” I reply quietly. “We’ll figure it out.”

A plan begins forming in my mind. One that includes keeping her close. Protecting her. And uncovering exactly why her wolf is buried so deep.

I open my notes app and start typing.

“Feel better?” I ask when Raine returns.

“Ah—yes. Thanks, I do.” Her face is still flushed, but at least she came back instead of hiding in the bathroom for the rest of the flight.

I stand to let her slide past, savoring the brush of her body as she moves into her seat. Most of the cabin is asleep by now, the lights dimmed, with only a few passengers still watching movies or fiddling with screens. Quiet enough for a little fun.

Raine settles in and reaches up to press the call button. Then she scrolls through the on-screen entertainment, landing on the game menu.

An idea sparks.

“Rainey,” I say, nudging her with a grin, “wanna play a game?”

She glances over, eyebrow raised in suspicion, that sly little smirk back on her lips. “Not those kinds of games, Angel.”

She chuckles, the sound light and warm, and I see her finally relax a bit.

“Sure,” she says, leaning toward her screen.

I join her, both of us scrolling through the options until I find what I’m looking for—mini-golf. I’d used this before, once on a flight to Australia, to flirt my way through the skies. Looks like it’s still useful.

I start a game and send her a challenge request.

She accepts and pauses over the player name field. After a second, she types Angel.

I look at her, then back at my own screen, and type in Wolf.

She catches the name immediately, eyes flicking to mine. Her breath hitches—soft, but I catch it.

“Why Wolf?” she asks, genuinely curious.

I hold her gaze and answer calmly. “Because I am one.”

She studies me like she’s trying to figure out if I’m joking. A smile curls at her lips, but there’s something else there too—surprise... intrigue.

She doesn’t laugh. She doesn’t ask more.

But she doesn’t look away, either.

Julia saunters over with a smug sway of her hips, t**s practically begging for attention. “Max, you called me?” she says, brushing far too close to my arm, her boobs barely caged in that tight uniform. One cough and the girls would be on the floor.

I roll my eyes. Desperate much? I’ve probably f****d a few attendants over the years, but Julia’s Velcro act is something else. “No, I didn’t. Raine did,” I say, eyes on the screen, setting up the game.

“Oh... I forgot you were there,” Julia snarks, her tone thick with fake innocence. She turns to Raine, her mouth already in a sneer. “What do you want?”

Raine doesn’t even flinch. She turns toward me instead. “Max, do you want a drink?” she asks sweetly.

God, I love that voice. “Hmm... what are you having, Angel?”

Julia turns red. Like, ripe-tomato red. Her eyes shoot daggers at Raine. I can practically hear her clenching her teeth.

“A G&T with lime,” Raine replies casually.

I reach out and brush my thumb over her bottom lip, tilting her chin toward me. “Make that two,” I say, eyes locked on hers, not sparing Julia a single glance.

Behind us, Julia lets out a sharp huff and stomps off.

Raine bursts out laughing. “Oh my God, Max, that was so mean!”

“Yeah, maybe,” I admit, grinning. “But she earned it, acting like a bitch.”

A different flight attendant returns with our drinks. Message received.

“Thank you,” I say, taking them from the tray and handing one to Raine.

“So,” she says, lifting her drink and arching a brow, “how good are you at these games?”

I smirk. “You’ll find out. Want to make it interesting?”

“Oh? How interesting?”

“I win,” I say, “you have dinner with me in New York. And we swap numbers.”

She narrows her eyes, but there’s amusement behind it. “Is this some smooth airline pickup line you use on every poor girl stuck beside you?”

“No, Angel. Nobody ever sits next to me.”

That gets her. She tilts her head, curious, like she’s just noticed something important.

“So?” I press. “Deal?”

She shrugs, but her smile says everything. “Deal. I can’t promise a day or time. I don’t even know where I’m staying yet.”

“We’ll figure it out,” I say, the grin spreading across my face.

She has no idea I already have her itinerary. My assistant emailed her transfer details an hour ago—and yes, I bought the seat next to hers. I normally fly private on domestic runs, but there’s no way in hell I’m letting her sit next to some stranger with wandering eyes.

She’s mine.