Into the Blue (A Wild Aces Romance)

by Chanel Cleeton

  His voice trailed off, the pain there making my stomach sink.

  “How long ago was it?”

  “Four months. I started to feel this way before Joker, but after . . .” He took a deep breath. “I just started to wonder if it was all worth it, you know? When he died, I wondered what my life was all about.

  “There’s no one special in my life. No one whose life I make special. Joker had that. He was married and they had this great marriage, and his wife, Dani, looked at him like he was the love of her life. And then in a flash, he was gone, and she was a widow, and I watched her grieve for him, saw how his death rocked her, and while I know he loved to fly, I couldn’t help but wonder if he would have done things differently if he’d known how it would all play out.

  “The truth is, we don’t think about dying when we’re up in the sky. Sure, there are moments in sorties when I have close calls, times when my brain just becomes a litany of ‘fucks’ as I deal with whatever emergency has cropped up in the jet, as I do everything I can to have to keep from fucking ejecting, but it’s not real, you know? It becomes so normal, living on the edge, that at times I forget how dangerous it really is. That I could die. It doesn’t feel real until it is, and I don’t know, I just keep asking myself if it’s worth it. When Joker died, he left behind someone who’d loved him, who mourns him. If I died . . .”

  I couldn’t help it. Fuck. I took a step forward, closing the distance between us, hating the words falling from his lips, hating the way he spoke of his life. It was true—this was the path he’d chosen, the decision he’d made when we were young, but at the same time, I knew better than anyone that sometimes you couldn’t see your path until you were already so far down it that there was no way back.

  “I can promise you . . .” The words stuck in my throat, blocked by a boulder of fear and do-not-go-there-he-will-crush-your-heart-to-dust. “That if something happened to you, I would care.” I swallowed. “A lot.”

  My heart hammered, my hand moving to cup his cheek. The second I touched him, his body stiffened, his eyes widening. I was pretty sure his expression mirrored mine since I wasn’t sure who was more shocked by the gesture.

  And then some part of me gave up fighting it, and I leaned forward, rising to my toes, my mouth colliding with his.

  Kissing him felt a lot like coming home.

  My hand slid to his neck, threading through his hair, pulling his head down to mine, pressing my body into the curve of his, and then his arm hooked around my waist, his cock brushing against me, his lips parting, his tongue swooping in.

  He tasted so freaking good, his lips and tongue laying siege to mine. His mouth contained the kind of hunger I couldn’t ignore if I tried, his hands holding me like he never wanted to let me go.

  His teeth sank down on my lower lip, drawing it between his, sucking on it, laving my flesh with his tongue as my nipples tightened and my clit throbbed.

  It was both familiar and new all at the same time. As though I was kissing a stranger, because there was a desperation to this kiss that hadn’t been there before. This was a decade of pent-up unrequited whatever-we-were, and we kissed like we couldn’t get enough of each other.

  My hands were all over him, gripping his hair, stroking his neck, moving lower to feel his impressive shoulders, going lower, my hands gripping his biceps, holding him close to me. His body felt amazing against mine and I found a whole new appreciation for the physical demands of his job. He’d always been in shape, but he’d never felt this hard against me, his muscles impressive enough to make my mouth go dry and make my body so very wet.

  I moaned as his hands gripped my ass, pulling me closer, his leg sliding between mine so that I rode him, the friction sending even more heat through me.

  My fingers dug into his skin, and he made a noise somewhere between a moan and a growl, nipping at my lip again, his hips canting toward me so I could feel every inch of how badly he wanted me.

  And by the thick, hard length brushing against me, apparently he wanted me a lot.

  THOR

  Of all the ways I’d imagined this playing out, I hadn’t dared to hope that the evening would end with my arms around Becca, my mouth on hers, drowning in the taste of her. And I definitely never would have predicted that the reality of kissing her would blow the memory out of the fucking water.

  Whatever doubts and fears I’d had were silenced the instant our mouths connected. I’d been an idiot before and thrown away the best thing that had ever happened to me, but there was no way I was making the same mistake again. I’d wanted an in with her, some kind of sign that hope wasn’t lost, and if this wasn’t a flashing-light-burning-bush kind of sign, I didn’t know what was.

  She pulled away first, her lips swollen, eyes wide, her chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. I knew exactly how she felt, because I couldn’t have gotten control if I tried. Forget the beers, I was utterly wrecked by her.

  I ran my tongue over my bottom lip, capturing the last taste of her while she watched, that familiar look in her eyes that my body instantly recognized.

  I took a step back, needing to put distance between us before I did something I’d regret. I wanted her and she wanted me, but as easy as it would be to fall into bed with her again, there was still too much between us for sex to do anything but complicate an already messy situation. I wanted her, but I wanted more than her body, even as I didn’t know what I had to offer her in return.

  Becca swallowed, my gaze immediately drawn to her mouth.

  “That was unexpected.”

  I couldn’t fight the grin at how cute she sounded—as I remembered just how much she hated the unexpected, how she tended to want everything in her life to fit into a neat container that she could label and manage. What she called “unexpected,” I called “inevitable,” because there was no way we could be near each other, setting off the kind of sparks we did, without something catching on fire.

  “Go on a date with me.”

  She blinked. “Are you joking?”

  I stepped forward, taking advantage of the way she just stood there, staggered, and twined my fingers through her hair, pressing my lips to hers.

  “One date.”

  Her mouth opened, her breath mingling with mine, her body relaxing into my embrace.

  “No.” Her hands settled on my hips, holding on to me as her words pushed me away.

  “Becca.”

  I sucked on her bottom lip as she shuddered against me, the grip on my hips tightening, her body arching forward.

  She tasted amazing. So fucking sweet. All soft curves and sex.

  “Give me a chance,” I whispered against her mouth. “Please.”

  She stilled and I waited, everything hanging on her answer.

  “Maybe.”

  One word. It wasn’t the one I wanted, but it was enough to give me hope, and considering it was probably more than I deserved, I’d take it.

  “Okay.”

  I held out a hand to her, feeling like the luckiest guy in the world when she slid her palm into mine, following me back inside the bar to find the rest of the group.

  “Maybe” was a lot to hang everything on, but right now I clutched it in my fist, praying it was enough.

  TEN

  BECCA

  I woke up feeling like death had visited me sometime after I’d fallen asleep. I would have blamed the alcohol and the late night out, but I figured the brunt of it came from the congestion filling my nose and head, the ache in my throat, the watery eyes, the chills wracking my limbs.

  I groaned as I studied my reflection in the bathroom mirror—taking in the pale skin, red eyes, puffy face.

  Yep. I was definitely sick.

  I gave up, crawling back into bed, welcoming the warmth of my sheets and the comfort of my soft mattress. I needed to get up and take some medicine, make myself tea
or something, but I felt like shit and all I wanted to do was just lie in bed, every step making me dizzy and weak.

  The sound of my doorbell ringing screwed that plan up.

  I groaned, contemplating just ignoring it and weighing the odds of whether it was Lizzie, coming to pump me for information on what had happened with Eric last night. She’d ended up driving both of us back to Bradbury, and the silence in the car had spoken volumes. She’d dropped me off with a meaningful look I recognized as code for spill later.

  I had no clue what to tell her. We’d kissed and I’d sort of reached the conclusion that the likelihood of us eventually having sex was pretty much inevitable. I just wished I could parse out my feelings about the whole thing, that I could separate out the emotion and love stuff and just enjoy what he offered—really great orgasms and a lot of fun. I tried to tell myself we could do no-strings, even as we were connected by more strings than a fucking puppet.

  So yeah, best friend or not, I wasn’t entirely sure I was ready to have a conversation about this with Lizzie.

  The doorbell rang again and I finally gave in, grabbing my bathrobe from the foot of the bed and wrapping it around my body, running my hands through my hair, trying to get most of the tangles out.

  I padded to the front door, wincing with each step. I was definitely going to give myself a big dose of cold meds and then go back to bed when Lizzie left. Maybe if I was lucky, I could convince her to make me tea, or soup, or something.

  I pulled open my door, prepared for Lizzie, and got someone else instead.

  Eric.

  Shit.

  I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve these awkward run-ins, but I would happily settle any bad karma that I’d accumulated in order to clear the scales.

  Eric stood on the doorstep wearing a gray long-sleeved tee, the sleeves pushed up to expose his forearms, his reddish-blond hair messy and tousled. His lips curved, something that looked a lot like concern in his gaze.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m dying,” I croaked, glaring at how freaking healthy he looked. There was a flash of embarrassment over the fact that he’d caught me in my ratty bathrobe, cocooned in a blanket, unwashed hair—fuck, I forgot to brush my teeth. I took a step back into the apartment, hoping that put enough distance between us.

  Seriously, why did he have to look so perfect all the time, and why did he keep seeing me at my absolute worst?

  “Are you hungover?” Eric asked, his gaze raking over me.

  I shook my head, wrapping the blanket more tightly around my body. “Sick.”

  He frowned, crossing the threshold in one smooth stride, the back of his hand connecting with my forehead as his other hand held me steady, his fingers pressing into my skin.

  I was pretty sure it was the fever and not the man that made me feel warm all over, the sinus infection that made my breath hitch.

  I swayed.

  His grip on me tightened, holding me steady.

  “You’re burning up.”

  “I told you I was dying,” I muttered, my voice sounding peevish even to my ears.

  “Come on.” He shut the door, leading me into the living room.

  I opened my mouth to tell him that I could walk on my own, that I didn’t need him here taking care of me, but at the moment, I was too tired to put up a fight.

  “Couch or bed?” Eric asked.

  I thought about it for a moment.

  “Couch. I don’t have a TV in my bedroom.”

  “Do you want a pillow?”

  “Please.” I pointed to the bedroom door, grateful for the help, even if it did come at the expense of me looking like this. “My bedroom is over there.”

  He returned a minute later with two pillows. I leaned forward while he adjusted them behind my head, a flush settling over my cheeks.

  “I look terrible,” I mumbled.

  “You do not look terrible. You look like you feel terrible, though. Do you need me to take you to the doctor?” He sat down on the edge of the couch, next to my legs, worry in his gaze.

  I shook my head. “Thanks, but I’ll give it a day or two. I’m hoping it’s just one of those twenty-four-hour things. I felt okay last night.” I winced, remembering our kiss. “Sorry. I hope I didn’t get you sick.”

  He grinned. “I don’t think so, but if you did, it was worth it.”

  Well, hell.

  I blinked, my head feeling like it was about to explode, my vision going a bit wobbly. “Why did you stop by?”

  “You left your phone in the car last night.” He pulled it out of his back pocket and set it on the coffee table. “I wanted to make sure you got it back.”

  Ugh. Definitely had too much to drink last night.

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  “Wait.” A flash of memory broke through the haze. “Lizzie gave you a ride home. Why didn’t you just leave my phone with her? I see her all the time. It would have been easy for her to return it.”

  He gave me a boyish grin that tugged at my heart. “Because then I wouldn’t have had a chance to return it to you.” His voice turned husky, sending a shiver through my body that had nothing to do with the fever. “I wanted to see you again.”

  I didn’t even know what to say to that one, and feeling the way I did, the best I could come up with was a weak, “Oh.”

  I waited to see if he’d get up and leave, but he didn’t. He just sat there, staring at me, a smile playing at his lips.

  I felt my cheeks heat under his scrutiny, and I burrowed deeper into the blanket.

  “I forgot how cute you are when you’re sick.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “It softens you up. You get all cuddly and sweet, and it’s probably the only time in your life that you actually let someone take care of you. And as much as I like the fact that you’re the kind of girl who doesn’t need anyone to take care of her, it’s nice to have a chance.”

  I opened my mouth to say something, protest, anything, but the words died on my lips and I just stared at him, my thoughts scrambled by the feelings filling me up and the sickness dragging me down.

  A coughing fit hit me again as I opened my mouth to tell him he could go. Suddenly he was there, his big body surrounding me, his palm warm on my back. I seriously needed air.

  The shaking subsided, my eyes watery, nose running.

  Ugh. So freaking embarrassing. Well, on the bright side, I’d wanted to put some distance between us and cool things off, and I had a hard time believing this wouldn’t do it. Nothing about my current appearance screamed desirable or sexy. More like covered in phlegm.

  I grabbed a tissue, pausing mid-blow. “You don’t have to stay. I mean, I appreciate it and everything, but I’m sure you have better things to do than sit with me and risk catching my germs.”

  Please have better things to do.

  He grinned. “I have a ridiculous immune system, remember? There’s no chance you’ll get me sick.”

  I did remember. He never got sick. We used to joke that hopefully our kids would inherit his genes.

  “It just feels weird,” I confessed. “After everything. After last night. I don’t know how to move forward. How to pretend things between us aren’t awkward.”

  “So don’t let them be awkward.” He hesitated. “That kiss last night—”

  “Was complicated.”

  I grabbed another tissue, blowing my nose loudly, wishing I were firing on all cylinders for this conversation and not hopelessly over my head.

  “You can’t tell me it didn’t mean something to you; that there isn’t still a part of you that cares for me.”

  I grimaced. “That was never the problem.”

  “I don’t know how many times I can say I’m sorry before you’ll believe it.”

  “I do believ
e that you’re sorry; it just isn’t enough.”

  “Then what is? Tell me what I have to do for you to let me in again. Tell me how I can make it up to you, and I will.”

  “I don’t know.” Frustration filled my voice, swimming through my body as exhaustion overtook me. “I’m not playing a game here, not trying to be difficult. I just don’t know where this is going.”

  I sucked in a deep breath and told him exactly what was on my mind, because I figured, with our history, we owed each other that much. And I hadn’t lied—last night had been about ego, and hurt, and part of me had flirted with Bandit to get a reaction out of Eric, but the truth was, I didn’t know what I wanted from him.

  “The kiss was amazing, but then again, you know that. Sex was never our problem. And yeah, it’s really easy to be around you and to slide into old habit patterns, but that was never our problem, either. No, actually, maybe that is the problem. Because yes, I can see myself letting you in again, but I don’t envision this playing out differently than it did before. And as hot as things are between us, as much as yes, I want to go to bed with you again, it can’t be like last time. I can’t put myself out there again, give you my heart, only for it to be crushed in return.”

  “That’s fair. And I get that. After the way things ended between us, you giving me a chance is more than I deserve.” He took my hand, seemingly unconcerned with the fact that I was a disgusting, germy mess. “What we had—what we have—you and I both know it isn’t a given. I’ve never found it with anyone else, never felt the way I do about you. And I think you feel the same way.”

  I nodded, figuring there was no point in denying it.

  “I don’t know where this is going. I’m still sorting my shit out, and I wish I could tell you I had all the answers, but I don’t. If you don’t want to take a chance on that, then I understand, and I’ll back off. I don’t want to hurt you, don’t want to let you down again. But if you want to give this a shot, however you want it, I’m here.”