The aerial view of the Isle of Man was breathtaking. The greens were dusted by white. But the highest peak was already capped by snow.
Desmond’s private jet slowly made its descent that late afternoon, making Dasha excited to walk on her beloved man’s island. She turned to look at him after gazing out of the squircle window.
“You do look excited,” he observed, grinning at her contentedly. He held her hand and kissed the back of it.
“Yes! I love how your island looks from up here,” she admitted, loving his lips on her skin.
“I’m glad you love it. I can’t wait to show you around,” he murmured and kissed her temple, and she closed her eyes.
It was not long when they descended the stairs to get off the private plane.
They immediately got into a waiting limousine, dropped by the Immigra
