Fly With Me (10 page)

“I want to watch you like that one time. Just want to sit in a chair and watch you get yourself off. There's nothing like you coming. Most beautiful fucking thing I've ever seen.”

“God, Noah.”

“Play with your nipples with your free hand.”

I heard Jordan adjusting in the bed, imagined her in a similar position to me. I'd learned enough about her body in the short time we'd been together to visualize her back arching as she played with her tits, could imagine her writhing as she fingered herself. The visual was . . . fuck me. My hand pumped harder, my teeth sinking down on my lower lip with a sharp bite.

“Are you wet?”

She gave another breathy sigh that I felt in my dick.

“Yes.”

“Slide your hand under your thong. I want to hear you fucking yourself with your fingers. Want to imagine you lying there, playing with your clit, all that heat.”

I remembered the feel of her perfectly—slippery and wet, so fucking warm.

“If I were there right now, I'd have my mouth between your legs.”

Jordan groaned.

“Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be content to just sit there and watch. I'd have to taste you. I'd bury my face in your
pussy, licking every drop. You'd be amazing. So fucking sweet. I'd want to savor your orgasm on my tongue, watch you shatter against my mouth.”

She groaned again and I increased my pace, images of fucking Jordan flashing through my mind, the memory of squeezing her ass in my hands, of her sinking down on my cock, riding me, her body milking mine as she took what she wanted, bringing me closer and closer to my own release.

“I'm so close,” she whispered.

“Are you going to come for me?”

I needed to hear it, needed to give her that. Needed to know she'd fall into sleep sated from the orgasm I'd wrung from her.

“Y-yes.”

“Good.”

We stopped talking, the only sound between us the quickening breaths and muffled beats of us chasing our orgasms. And then she moaned, and I listened as she found what she was searching for. I came a minute later, imagining it was her body surrounding me, her hands, her mouth giving me the release I craved.

I fell asleep drowning in her and woke up the next morning with a smile on my face.

JORDAN

Get up. Get up.

I stared at the woman sitting next to me, willing her to rise from her seat. She ignored me.

Ahead of us, rows and rows of people began deplaning; behind us, another line waited with no gap in sight. If she didn't claim her place in the aisle to exit the plane, we'd be relegated to the very last ones off, which normally I wouldn't care about, but considering who I had waiting for me . . .

I cared a lot.

I waited, waited . . .
fuck
. We were going to be the last ones off.

It was literally a difference of a few more minutes, but even with the phone sex—which seemed to get better each night—this week had already felt like an eternity. I wanted to see Noah, and considering patience was not a virtue I possessed, I wanted to see him now.

She turned to face me with a conspiratorial smile.

Yes, get off the plane.

“People these days. Everyone's in a hurry. I'd rather wait until the plane is totally empty. No need to rush and push.”

No. No. No.

I'd had a lifetime of Southern gentility drilled into me, and while a lot of it didn't take, some of it was inescapable. Like always being polite to strangers.

I flashed her a smile, despite the voice screaming in my head.

Let me off this plane.

I sat patiently, or as patiently as anyone could with their foot tapping a mile a minute, until finally it was our turn, and we were indeed the last ones off the plane.

And then impatience gave way to nerves. Lots and lots of nerves.

What if my memory was better than the reality? What if this was a mistake? What if we didn't have chemistry this time? What if he wasn't attracted to me? Did my outfit look okay? Should I have worn my hair up? Did I have too much makeup on? Did I have too little makeup on?

Commence freak-out.

Everything about this was making me a little nuts all of a sudden. I'd flown across the country to see a guy I'd known for, like, three days. And by “known,” really I was talking biblically. I didn't even know him all that well. And given my track record, the odds of me fucking this up were not small.

What was I thinking?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I cursed in time with my steps, profanity flitting through my mind each time my sole touched the floor until it became a catchy little tune in my head.

The arrival area loomed closer and closer, and I searched the crowd for Noah, remembering that he'd said he might
have to pick me up straight from work, wondering if he was running late . . .

And then I saw him.

Flight suit. Big fucking smile. Roses. Nerves gone.

I launched myself at him, my purse flailing inelegantly behind me. He didn't shy away, didn't act like he was embarrassed to be seen with the girl who had no concern for appropriate behavior. Instead, he caught me mid-laugh, my arms wrapped around his neck as he gripped my waist, hauling me toward him. His mouth came down on mine and my lips parted instantly and then his tongue was inside me and it took every inch of willpower I possessed to keep from hopping up and climbing him like a vine on a wall.

I settled for a kiss.

I had not been wrong. This kiss lived up to every memory of us I had. This kiss was unreal.

We broke apart what felt like minutes later, Noah's lips swollen, his mouth curved in a satisfied grin. His hand settled just above my ass, possessive, teasing, hot as hell.

He stared down at me, his eyes dancing. “Hey.”

Maybe it was the phone sex, but his voice triggered some feelings in my lady parts.

“Hi.”

We both stood there like idiots, grinning at each other, and then he took my hand and propelled me toward the baggage claim.

“In a hurry?” I called after him, his long strides eating up the carpet.

He flashed me a grin. “You have no idea.”

*   *   *

I followed Noah over the threshold, my gaze taking in all the little details, all of the pieces that made up his life.

He lived in a one-story house in a quiet subdivision with brick homes and decent-sized lots. It had a family-friendly vibe to it, which wasn't what I would have predicted for a single fighter pilot, but it definitely impressed me. I'd seen my share of gross boy apartments, and while his artwork tended to have a single-focus—pretty kick-ass framed photos of planes at various stages of flight—there were no dirty clothes on the floor, no empty beer bottles on end tables.

“Hey, Jordan.”

I spotted Easy sitting on a leather sectional in the family room, watching a movie on a ginormous TV. Noah had mentioned that he owned the house and Easy lived with him.

“Hey.”

Easy rose as I walked toward him, enfolding me in a quick hug. He gestured to a spot on the sectional.

“Sit.”

I kind of wanted to go bone Noah in his bedroom, but Southern manners and all . . .

I sat down, Noah not bothering to cover up the groan that escaped his lips as he sat down next to me, placing my suitcase on the floor.

Easy looked down at my luggage and shot me a teasing grin. “Planning on staying awhile?”

My cheeks flamed. Yes, maybe I had overpacked. It hadn't been easy deciding what to bring. I had a mixture of sexy dresses that were basically a nuclear arsenal in and of themselves, casual jeans and sweaters that were designed to convey the image that I wasn't trying too hard or anything, and a fortune in lingerie that was definitely trying too hard, but I was pretty sure Noah would appreciate a hell of a lot . . . if Easy ever let us go.

Noah shot him a look. “Like you don't spend a fucking hour getting ready in the morning.”

Easy winked at me. “He's jealous. He wishes he could be this pretty.”

I snorted. The guy totally owned how full of shit he was. You had to appreciate that, at least.

Noah wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me against his body. I felt ab ridges.

Gah.

He ducked his head so that his lips tickled my ear, his words loud enough for Easy to hear. “You look amazing in whatever you wear, babe.”

I went a little melty.

Easy laughed.

“So how was the rest of your Vegas trip?” I asked, wanting to get off the subject of my gargantuan suitcase pronto.

“Good,” Noah answered. “We had a few jets break getting back, so some guys are stuck out there still, but not exactly a hardship. There are a lot worse places you can get stuck.”

Easy made a face. “I'm still pissed about getting stuck in the desert.” His gaze shifted to me. “I had to make an emergency landing in a neighboring country when we deployed to the Mideast. It was intense.” He gestured toward Noah. “Meanwhile, these guys got back and took leave and went diving in the Caymans.”

“Does that happen a lot? Uh, jets breaking?”

I knew nothing about planes, but that kind of sounded like a big deal.

Easy snorted. “We're flying planes that were built when some of us were born, so yeah. It happens. Not to mention, the maintainers have to do their part. Maintenance has been on its ass since we left for Red Flag.”

“So when you say jets break, are you guys flying them when this happens?”

Noah answered. “It depends. Sometimes it breaks before we take off and we have to step to another jet. Other times you can have a problem when you're in the air.”

“What do you do then?”

“Depends on the problem. We have a checklist and procedures we go through in the event of an emergency. Some stuff isn't a big deal; other stuff is a lot worse. Our job is to make the right judgment call and decide whether we should stick with the mission, fly home, divert to the nearest runway, or eject.”

I didn't like the sound of “a lot worse.” Or “eject.” I didn't like the sound of any of this. Or the way they casually discussed the plane “breaking” like it wasn't a big deal. I guessed it came with the territory, but that didn't make it any less intense. My idea of risk-seeking behavior was eating more cookies than the recommended serving size or making out with strangers on a dance floor. It wasn't this casual disregard for personal safety.

“Have you ever ejected?” I asked Noah, not sure I wanted to hear the answer.

He shook his head.

My gaze drifted to Easy. “You?”

“Only if she isn't cute.” He grinned. “Sorry. Pilot humor.”

Wow, it was surprising that he could fit in the cockpit with a head that big.

Noah squeezed my leg. “I'm going to go change, okay? I'll be right back.”

I was a little sad to see the flight suit go, but I nodded.

Easy jerked his head toward the kitchen. “Do you want a beer?”

I hesitated and then nodded again, feeling like I needed the liquid courage. I didn't know what it was, but I had a hard time feeling comfortable around Easy. Maybe it was
how hot he was or the fact that he so clearly knew it and knew that everyone else knew it, too. Noah was hot, but in a less obvious, cocky way. Easy was in-your-fucking-face. And some part of me had been trained since puberty not to trust a guy who was too good looking. I found it hard to believe that Noah would be friends with a guy who was a dick, but the verdict was still out on Easy.

He got up from the couch, his long legs encased in worn denim, wearing a ratty-looking navy T-shirt, striding to the kitchen. A minute later he returned with a beer dangling from his hands. I wasn't a huge beer drinker, but I didn't really want to stand out as being high maintenance. Or more high maintenance than I already appeared to be.

My outfit, for one, was admittedly a little over the top. I'd channeled my motto of “go big or go home” when dressing for the flight. I'd ended up with a tight pair of ripped jeans, in a look that was basically, “I did a drummer last night,” and had gotten me some side-eye as I'd strutted through the airport—justifiably so. They were also a little tough to walk in considering I could barely breathe, but hey, fashion was pain, right? Because I apparently didn't give a fuck, I'd paired the jeans with stiletto boots that walked the thin line between high fashion and hooker. I wore a low-cut sweater and I'd teased my hair out into fat curls that spilled down my back. It was totally over the top, but it was also kind of me, and given the appreciation that had flashed in Noah's eyes, it was definitely the look I was going for.

I took the beer from Easy, taking a sip, silence yawning between us. It was the kind of silence that spoke volumes, and I figured he knew I didn't like him. I also figured he didn't give a shit. Okay, maybe that wasn't fair, and maybe I was wrong to judge a book by its cover, especially considering mine sort of screamed bimbo.

I took a sip of my beer. “Sorry to show up last minute. I'm sure you're tired from being gone for so long and it's probably a pain to have someone staying here right after you got back.”

Easy shrugged. “It was important to Noah.”

“You guys are really close, aren't you?”

He nodded. “We were roommates in college. We've been close ever since. He's like a brother.”

“He seems like a really good guy.”

Easy smiled, and without the smirk, he appeared a little more approachable. “Yeah, he is.”

I searched for something else to talk about, but came up short. I figured it wasn't great if I alienated the best friend, but for some reason I couldn't relax around him. And I couldn't tell if he approved of me or not. There was something shrewd in his gaze that gave the impression that his devil-may-care attitude was more show than anything else.

Yeah, the verdict was definitely still out on Easy.

“He likes you a lot.”

I opened my mouth to speak—no clue what I was going to say—and then we were interrupted by Noah walking back in the room, wearing jeans and a T-shirt.

He shot Easy a look that made me wonder if he'd heard our conversation—
so awkward
—and then he was back on the couch next to me, tucking my body against him.

We sat there for a few more minutes, half watching the movie Easy had playing, half chatting, and then Noah leaned down and whispered in my ear.

“Do you want to go to bed?”

I nodded, not sure I trusted my voice to speak.

Easy gave us a knowing grin that had my cheeks flaming again—
fucker
.

Noah pulled me up from the couch, taking my hand and
leading me down a hallway with more airplane pictures, which I was beginning to think were some form of guy porn. We passed by a few closed doors, my heart picking up with each step we took.

“I'll give you the grand tour tomorrow, okay?”

I nodded.

Noah opened a door at the end of the hall, stepping back so I could enter first, and then the door closed behind us, and I was in his arms, my back to his front, his hand sweeping my hair away, his lips grazing the sensitive hollow between my shoulder and my neck.

My head rolled back and the rest of my nerves slid away.

NOAH

I descended on her like a ravenous man presented with his last meal. And if she were food, she'd be a fucking filet mignon.

The jeans were something beyond hot, showcasing her long legs, hugging her ass. Her tits were high and perky, and I'd been dying to get my hands on her all night. Not to mention the hair, and the heels, and the way she'd strutted through the Oklahoma City airport like she was a fucking rockstar.

As great as the body was, the attitude was everything.

I was seriously hooked by this girl.

She smelled amazing—her scent different than what I'd remembered in Vegas, but somehow the perfect complement to the bombshell look she had going on.

I was going to fuck her all night long.

Jordan pushed back against my body, grinding her ass against my cock. I was already hard as a fucking rock. I groaned, nipping her skin, my tongue following my teeth, the movement tearing a shudder from her body. My hand found the top of her sweater, slipped under the cup of her bra, and then I was squeezing her breast, rolling her nipple between my thumb and forefinger, getting off on the little throaty moans she made, the way her hips arched against me like she was as desperate as I was.