Into the Blue (A Wild Aces Romance)

by Chanel Cleeton

  “We’ll wait until he taxis into his canopy spot and then you can go see him,” Easy said.

  “I’m allowed to go out there?”

  “To the canopy? Yeah.” Amusement filled his voice. “I think Thor’s going to want the full impact of you seeing him get out of the jet.”

  Jordan snorted. “You’re such an ass.” She ducked her head, whispering conspiratorially in my ear. “He’s not wrong, though. It is pretty hot.”

  I couldn’t argue with that point. I’d never imagined that I’d find his job sexy—especially with our track record—but I’d been really, really wrong. There was something about that roar, seeing the jet soaring in the sky, knowing all the hard work, dedication, sacrifice, and determination that had gone into it, that made it awe-inspiring.

  And yeah, really freaking sexy.

  Easy nodded as the jet came to a stop under an awning.

  “Go for it.”

  I walked toward the F-16 on shaky legs, torn between wanting to run up there and trying to keep my cool. Finally I settled somewhere between the two, waiting until the jet canopy popped open and I got my first full-on view of Eric in all his glory.

  Holy hell.

  The smile got me first. He looked so happy to see me and so proud, that same expression on his face that he’d always had—the one that suggested he’d take you on the ride of your life if you let him—and I fell even more in love with him.

  We’d talked every day in the last month, and I’d known it would be amazing when we finally saw each other again, but nothing compared to this moment and the feeling bubbling up inside me like someone had shaken up a bottle of champagne and let it fly.

  I stood there waiting while he took his helmet off, his hands going over his flight suit, unhooking parts of his gear with a self-assured grace that impressed me. He hopped out of the jet, his feet hitting the metal ladder as he climbed down toward me.

  He looked . . . there really weren’t words. He looked like flight suits had been designed with him in mind, like he’d been born to this. He seemed even taller, his body encased in a green suit that zipped up the front. The suit was smattered with patches on the shoulder and chest, his call sign prominent.

  He wore an impressive pair of boots that might have had something to do with the additional inches he appeared to have gained, his hair mussed from the helmet he’d removed, faint lines on his face from what I assumed was the mask he’d been wearing.

  He looked like an all-American fantasy and he walked with an air I’d never seen on him before. He’d always been confident, brushing right up against cocky, but now? He carried himself like he could do anything, as though the remnants of the adrenaline high he must have felt in the jet crackled through his body like electricity.

  He looked at me like he wanted to devour me, like those moments up in the sky hadn’t been enough and he needed to burn off more steam.

  I was definitely up for the job.

  I took a step forward, and then another, meeting him halfway so he caught me around the waist, smelling like machine and man.

  When we were younger, we hadn’t experienced absences in our relationship, so I’d gone into the month apart unprepared for what it would be like to be away from each other, somehow expecting the worst. What I’d gotten instead was four weeks of reconnecting, of sexy video chats and talking about our days. We’d fallen back into our relationship so easily, but this was the best of both worlds, having him here in front of me, strong and steady.

  He broke apart first, his gaze running over my face, his hands traversing my body, a smile playing at his lips.

  I reached out, my thumb brushing against his lower lip, wiping the hint of lipstick that had gone from my skin to his.

  “Hi,” he whispered.

  I grinned. “Hi.”

  “I missed you.”

  “Missed you, too.”

  He brushed a strand of hair away from my face, hooking his arm around my waist and pulling me toward him.

  “God, I love you.”

  I would never grow tired of hearing him say that. Never grow tired of saying it back.

  “I love you, too.”

  He reached down, grabbing my hand and linking our fingers, waving to Easy and Jordan standing next to each other with matching grins on their faces.

  We walked back into the squadron together, my hand in Eric’s, his helmet bag dangling from his free hand, a line of gleaming F-16s behind us, and I felt like each step toward the squadron took me away from the life I’d known and into a new adventure, a new world.

  THOR

  The squadron had emptied out by the time I got through the debrief and went to my office in search of Becca.

  I found her sitting in my desk chair, flipping through her phone, and for a moment I just stood in the doorway watching her.

  She’d worked in the morning before flying to see me, and she hadn’t changed from the knee-length, ass-hugging skirt or the silky black button-down top that hinted at cleavage. She’d draped her coat over the couch in my office, leaving her beautiful body on display.

  I closed the door behind me, locking it, before turning back to face her, eternally grateful for the dull, windowless space that now afforded me the privacy I craved.

  “Have I ever told you that I sort of have this thing about you all dressed up for work?”

  She looked up from her phone, her lips curving into a smile. “A thing?”

  “As in, when I see you in those tight little skirts you wear, I want to bend you over a desk, lift your skirt, and fuck you until you’re screaming my name.”

  She grinned. “I could be down for that.”

  This girl slayed me.

  “Stand up.”

  She rose from the chair, and I closed the distance between us, figuring I’d never look at my office the same way again. I drank in the sight of her, my dick already so fucking hard, the month apart catching up with me.

  “You’re so beautiful,” I whispered, coming to stand behind her, my hands settling on her hips, holding her against me.

  Becca trembled as I lifted her hair and kissed her nape, as my hand drifted from her hip, to her stomach, and higher still until I cupped her breast in my hand, my fingers finding her nipple through the fabric.

  She moaned.

  My other hand slid behind her, between us, cupping her ass, stroking her through her skirt, squeezing, my mind already four steps ahead, consumed with all the things I wanted to do to her.

  My teeth grazed the curve of her shoulder, and then I nipped her there, loving how she squirmed against my dick, the sound of her breaths growing louder, harsher, as though she clung to her control by a thread.

  I ground myself against her ass, the zipper of my flight suit digging into my dick to the point of pain, and then I couldn’t take it anymore, and I pulled the zipper down until my boxers were exposed, and I’d freed my cock.

  I bent her forward over the desk, swiping some papers away, and then I was lifting up her skirt, watching the fabric slide over her ass and the lacy black thong she wore.

  I groaned. “You are so fucking gorgeous. Perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect.”

  I laid my palm on her ass, caressing her there before reaching up and pulling the lace from her body, dragging it down her thighs, loving the visual of her spread open before me. I would never sit at my desk again without seeing her here, just like this.

  “Eric . . .”

  I leaned forward, my cock brushing against her bare ass, my hands sliding between her body and the desk, cupping her breasts, tweaking her nipples while she rocked against me.

  Fuck. She was soaked.

  I couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t hold back, and my hands left her breasts, gripping her hips, just below her skirt bunched up around her waist.

  With one hand I positioned myself at her
entrance, rubbing against her clit, her wetness smearing around the head of my cock. My balls tightened, a bead of sweat popping up on my forehead as I slid inside, a slow steady glide, feeling her clench around me.

  When I’d pushed all the way inside, I grabbed her hips, holding her steady, stilling, trying to get my shit together, and then I couldn’t take it and I had to move.

  I fucked her hard and fast, biting down on my lip hard enough to draw blood to keep from shouting out when I came, when I felt the beginning of her orgasm pulsing around my dick, when my name fell from her lips.

  When we’d finished, she sagged against the desk, and I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her down into my lap, my heart hammering. Minutes passed before we spoke, until Becca broke the silence.

  “That was one way to welcome me to Oklahoma.” She grinned. “Turns out a month is a really long time.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  She kissed my cheek. “Take me home. I have another round in me.”

  She was definitely going to kill me, but I couldn’t think of a better way to go.

  TWENTY-SIX

  THOR

  Becca straddled me, her naked body calling to me like a homing beacon. I lay beneath her, fully clothed in my flight suit while she . . . explored. It had been quick and desperate between us back in my office, but now that we were in bed, she seemed eager to take her time, and as much as she was slowly killing me, I was only too happy to indulge her.

  I groaned as she reached between us, taking advantage of my open zipper and slipping inside the slit of my boxers, her hand fisting my cock.

  We’d gotten back to my rental house and she’d pounced. She seemed fascinated by my flight suit, taking her time until I was lying here with an aching cock and an escalating need to get inside of her.

  She knew it, too.

  She slid down my body . . .

  Fuck. Yes.

  Becca took me into her mouth, her hand gripping the base, her tongue licking me over and over again, swirling around the tip, sucking me deep, taking the orgasm barreling toward me to a whole other level.

  My eyes closed and I fell back against the pillow, losing myself to her lips, her tongue, her hands, the way she moaned around my dick. I reached down, rubbing my thumb over her nipple, cupping her breast, her moans growing louder.

  “Babe. I can’t. I’m so close. Babe.”

  Our gazes locked, and then she was straddling me, giving me exactly what I wanted, her hands guiding my cock inside her with agonizing slowness, inch by fucking inch.

  I groaned as she contracted around me, her body drawing me deeper and deeper inside until I couldn’t take it anymore and I lifted my hips, thrusting deep. Our hands found each other, our palms touching, fingers linking midair as I pumped into her, as her body swayed over mine, all soft curves and sexy lines.

  I brought her to the edge, watched her orgasm hover just out of her grasp, and then my thumb found her clit, sliding into the slippery wetness, taking her over the edge so that she came apart, her body quaking over mine, pushing me past the finish line as my balls tightened and I came hard, my gaze on her.

  Becca leaned forward, wrapping her arms around me, hugging my body close to hers as we both relaxed into each other. She tipped her face up, her chin resting on my chest, eyes full of mischief.

  “Have I ever told you that I sort of have this thing about you all dressed up for work?” she asked, echoing my words from earlier.

  I burst into laughter. “Somehow I didn’t expect that. I figured you’d be more briefcases and business suits than helmet bags and flight suits.”

  “I guess you changed my mind.” She moved closer to me, her hand stroking down my stomach. “I like your place, by the way.”

  Considering how eager I’d been to get her naked, I hadn’t exactly given her much time to see it.

  “Thanks.” I shrugged. “It’s just temporary. Some guys buy houses when they PCS, but I figured it was more hassle than it was worth.”

  “That makes sense considering how short your assignments are.”

  She sat up in bed, the sheets dropping to her waist, her long hair falling down over her breasts.

  So fucking beautiful.

  “So explain how your assignment process works. When do you find out where you’re moving next?”

  I would have been lying if I didn’t admit that I was nervous to have this conversation with her, afraid she’d freak out the same way she had before. Becca’s entire life had been about needing structure, about finding stability after the loss of her parents. The only thing that was guaranteed about my lifestyle was that there were no guarantees, no way to predict what would happen next. You had to be able to go with the flow, and Becca was all about control.

  “The active duty service commitment I signed in exchange for the Air Force training me to fly is nearly up. I have a year left. I should find out where I’m moving in the next month or so. When that happens, I’ll have about a week to decide if I’m going to accept that assignment or get out.

  “If I decide to get out, I’ll still have to finish out the year, and I probably will extend it for a few months because the squadron really needs instructor pilots and more experienced guys for this deployment to Afghanistan.”

  “Have you thought more about your options?” she asked.

  “I have. I talked to some guys I know who got out and are in the Guard and the Reserve. Either option would still keep me flying. I’d basically keep my rank and benefits; I just would be assigned to one location and wouldn’t have to move every few years.

  “I would still deploy, though. Still have to go TDY. And the hours would still be crazy. It’s an option, but I don’t know that it’s going to be one you would be happy with.”

  “Would you be happy with it? Independent of me?”

  There really wasn’t an “independent of her” anymore, but I knew what she meant.

  “Yeah. I would. The more I think about it, I’m starting to burn out on active duty. I like the flying and the squadron’s great, but the higher you get, the more you realize how political everything is. The job becomes less about the kind of pilot you are and more about how well you network.

  “You know me. I’m not that guy. I don’t care if I’m a general one day; I just want to fly. The other bullshit that comes with it doesn’t really matter.”

  “And the private sector?” she asked, her expression neutral. “Is there anything else you could see yourself doing? Anything else you would be interested in?”

  I wanted to tell her that I’d realized my lifelong dream to be a dentist or found a previously undiscovered talent for crunching numbers. Unfortunately, that was not the case. I’d racked my brain thinking of alternative options, only to come up short. I was good at what I did, with a very defined set of skills that didn’t necessarily translate to the civilian world.

  “I don’t know,” I hedged. “Maybe? There’s always defense contracting. Not exactly the stuff of dreams, but the money’s good. The life would be stable—”

  “And you would be miserable.”

  “No. Maybe,” I admitted. “It’s just never seemed like something I would enjoy. I’m not exactly a suit.”

  She grinned. “I noticed.” She reached out, linking our fingers together and running her lips over my knuckles. “You looked amazing out there today. You looked like you were in your element, happy, confident. Like the world was yours for the taking and you could do anything while you were in the cockpit.”

  I’d never thought of it that way, but she was right—

  Flying made me feel like I could do anything. It made the impossible possible.

  I’d been going to weekly sessions, talking through my PTSD with a counselor the military had assigned me. So far it was helping more than I’d anticipated. I hadn’t had another freak-out in the jet, and she was right—t
he last few weeks I’d enjoyed flying more than I had in the last year.

  “How do you always do that?” I asked, falling a little more in love with her with each moment that passed.

  “Do what?”

  “Get me. Know what I’m feeling even before I do.”

  She ran her hand through my hair, a smile playing at her mouth. “I love you. I’ve loved you forever. And I see the fire in your eyes when you fly, see the passion there. You wouldn’t be happy behind a desk somewhere. Not after the life you’ve lived. I don’t want to be the cause of you waking up every morning and dreading going to work. It’s so rare to find a job that you love. Don’t throw that away.”

  “I don’t think of it as throwing it away. I want to be with you. Want to make this work.”

  She leaned forward and kissed me. “I know. And I know I’ve been reluctant to consider military life, but I think you’re right. There can be a compromise here. We should look for something that will let us both do what we love.”

  “I think the Guard or reserves could be a good option. There are F-16 units around the country. Would you be okay with moving out of South Carolina if we needed to? That would be it—just the one move and then you could set up your practice somewhere. I know it’s not exactly what you wanted—”

  “It’s perfect. If that’s what we need to do, we’ll do it. I can still be an attorney, still build my career.”

  “That’s the big positive with it. At the same time, I’m going to be honest, Guard and Reserve spots can be tricky. It’s a timing thing—you have to hope for an open spot when you need it, and depending on the base, they can be competitive. I don’t know for sure that a job will open up, but I’m trying to figure something out. I’ve put out feelers with a bunch of guys I know in the community. We’ll see if anything becomes available.”

  “Okay.” She extended her hand to me, a soft smile playing at her lips. “I’m in.”