“What’s your call sign?”
Now we were talking.
“Burn.”
I waited for her to say it was hot, or something, but all I got was another question.
“So why didn’t you tell me your call sign like he did?”
“Because I don’t need to lead with my call sign to get laid.” I let the promise in my words linger between us.
Her eyes narrowed playfully, her voice silk. “Is that so?”
I leaned in closer, my gaze locking with hers. “My skills speak for themselves.”
I expected her to respond with innuendo of her own, but instead she laughed, her eyes twinkling. She met my move and raised the stakes, her mouth brushing my ear.
Finally.
“Aren’t you guys supposed to have super-hot-shit call signs?”
I nearly choked on my drink, convinced I’d misheard.
“Excuse me?”
Was she joking? Burn was a hot-shit call sign.
“Like Iceman and Maverick. Something like that.”
Was this girl for real? I set my drink down, taking a moment to study her.
I was thirty-three, had been flying F-16s since I was twenty-four. I’d picked up dozens of girls in bars. I didn’t go home with all of them; I didn’t have a face like Easy’s, I struck out a fair share, but the fighter pilot card was magic.
Apparently, she was immune.
And just like that, I realized that what had looked like a casual hook-up just might not be so easy.
“Call signs aren’t supposed to be cool,” I explained, trying to ignore the feeling that I’d just been shot down. “Most of the time they’re given to you because of something you did to look like an idiot. There’s almost always an embarrassing story behind them.”
“So how’d you get your call sign?”
“That’s a story for another day.”
“Don’t want to mess up your game?” she teased.
I shook my head, feeling like she’d batted me around. “I think I’m going to need all the tricks up my sleeve with you.”
Jordan’s smile widened and she leaned forward again, her mouth inches from mine, the temptation nearly unbearable. One taste or two was definitely not enough with this girl.
“I’m guessing this fighter pilot thing gets you laid pretty often.”
God, I hoped it did the trick now. “It has its moments.”
Her brow rose, her voice taking on a distinctive purr. “And you think this is going to be one of those moments?”
I held her gaze, going for honesty when bravado failed me. “You tell me.”
JORDAN
The impulse to tell him that he was definitely getting lucky was on the tip of my tongue. We were both adults, and it didn’t need to be said that obviously we wanted each other. I could climb off his lap, hold out my hand to him, and go upstairs for what I predicted would be a pretty fucking amazing orgasm.
He’d leave me with a hot vacation memory and a story about the time I banged the fighter pilot in Vegas. And likely, I’d be another girl he hooked up with once, maybe even a repeat performance if his body lived up to the packaging.
It wouldn’t be a bad ending to the night. I’d had some pretty decent one-night stands, and the odds that this one would jump to the top of the list were pretty high given how turned on I was. I wasn’t looking for a relationship with a guy who lived across the country, and I definitely wasn’t looking for a relationship with a guy who probably took thrill seeking to extremes.
But ever since I’d seen that flash of cocky, ever since the attraction between us had ratcheted up a notch, the urge to make him work for it had become undeniable.
Because maybe, in some slightly confused part of me, I was curious to see where this was going. I hadn’t been looking for anything but fun, definitely didn’t need complicated, but . . .
I leaned back slightly, my gaze searching his, my body and mind warring with each other until the decision was made.
I’d had a lot of guys in my fifteen-plus years of dating. There were guys who were fun, the kind of guys who were great for a casual hook-up, a quick and easy orgasm. Then there were the guys who had your mother proclaiming things like, He’s a doctor, and He loves kids, and He just bought a lovely three-bedroom house, to all of her friends. The ones you took to your high school reunion. The guys that someone, somewhere, arbitrarily decided were a “catch.”
And then there was the urban legend, Chupacabra-like myth of a man who would fuck you up against a wall while he pulled your hair and then spoon you to sleep after. The guy who would bring you breakfast in bed with an orgasm on the side. The kind of guy who was so masculine that he could get you pregnant just by looking at you.
I’d spent years searching for that guy, only to come up with dud after dud. But this guy? This guy just might be the Bigfoot of the dating world, and everyone knew you did not fuck around with that kind of possibility.
If he was an urban legend, then I needed to make myself one, too—
The Girl Who Does Not Fall for Hot Sexy Fighter Pilots Who Smell Great and Have Nice Voices . . . on the first night, at least. No need to get crazy.
I leaned forward, my body giving a little happy cheer. I kissed him, my fingers threading through his hair, my lips devouring his. And then I pulled back.
His lips were swollen from my kisses, his eyes dark.
“It was nice to meet you, Noah.”
He gave me a rueful grin. “Crash and burn, huh?”
I laughed at the Top Gun joke. He was definitely more than a pretty face and lickable biceps.
“We’ll see how you do tomorrow.”
His eyes glinted and I had a sneak peek of how lethal he must be.
“You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”
I grinned, my mouth brushing against his again.
“Now where’s the fun in that?”
I wiggled out of his lap, my body getting a pretty good idea of how badly he wanted me.
I stood and tossed a look over my shoulder, and then I was walking out of the bar, knowing full well that his eyes were on me the entire time.
THREE
JORDAN
“Are you nuts?”
The words would have been delivered with a shriek if Meg had been slightly less hungover. Instead, they came out with a croak and a wince, as though even that was too much for her.
I grinned, handing over the bottle of pain relievers. “Not the last time I checked.”
“He was hot. Really, really hot.” She fumbled with the cap until finally I took pity on her and opened it myself.
“He was.”
She tossed me a grateful look and swallowed two pills with the big bottle of water next to our lounge chairs.
“So that’s it?”
“No, the ball’s in his court now. He knows I’m interested.”
“But if you were interested, why didn’t you go back to his room? You should have seen him after you left. He looked like a kid who’d just had his ice cream cone taken away from him.”
I couldn’t help smiling at that visual. Some guys would have gone out in search of another girl to take back to their room. The fact that he hadn’t bumped him up majorly in my estimation.
I didn’t bother explaining my Chupacabra theory. Meg would likely think I was crazier than she already did. She’d started dating her fiancé, Mike, her freshman year of college and they’d been together ever since. She hadn’t braved the dating gauntlet and she didn’t understand that it was a freaking war zone out there; a girl needed every advantage she could get.
“If he’s interested, he’ll come find me today. If he’s not, it’s his loss.”
That was the mantra I kept repeating to myself as doubt started to creep in. That said, I’d totally come prepared.
We
were lounging at one of the pools at Palazzo, the resort joined with our hotel, the Venetian. It was late February and the weather was unseasonably warm, but even though the pool was allegedly heated, it was a little too cold for a Florida girl to get in the water. But that didn’t mean I hadn’t rocked my bathing suit “A” game.
I was a beach girl through and through, and owning my own clothing boutique meant I got an awesome discount and my clothing choices were a walking advertisement for the business. Suffice it to say, I had more bikinis than there were days in the month.
Every girl had that one outfit that doubled as her suit of armor—that go-to look that gave her the confidence she needed to kick ass and take names. Thankfully, I’d had the foresight to bring mine to Vegas.
The bikini was white, which was kind of a risky choice, but luckily I spent most of my time at the beach and South Florida had freaking gorgeous weather year-round, so it contrasted with my tanned skin. It was the skimpiest suit I owned, covering the important bits, leaving the rest exposed in between strappy pieces of fabric. I wore my hair down, and as stupid as I’d felt blowing it out and curling it to go lie by the pool, Noah had seemed to have a thing for it last night, and I was on a mission here. No corners would be cut.
I wore a sheer cover-up that exposed more than it concealed, but gave me the right to wear the wedges on my feet that gave my legs the extra advantage I needed.
My makeup consisted of a nude lipstick and some bronzer, a bit of shadow at my eyes, and a swipe of mascara which I never left the house without. I perched a pair of Tom Fords on my face to shield my gaze from the bright Vegas sun.
“Did you even tell him where we were staying?” Meg asked between gulps of water.
The one advantage to having a good forty pounds on my sister was that I wasn’t feeling any effects from last night’s binge.
“Nope.”
“So how is he supposed to find you?”
“Are you talking about the guy last night?” Stacey asked, plopping down next to Meg’s lounge chair.
I hadn’t seen her and Amber this morning, but Meg and I had left a note in our suite telling them to meet us at the pool.
I nodded.
“He asked us where you were staying.”
Meg grinned. “So that’s where you and Amber were last night.”
Tell me they both hooked up with Easy.
She grinned. “Hey, his friend was hot.”
My throat went a little dry. “Please tell me this was a party of three.”
Stacey’s smile widened. “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell. But you’ll be happy to know that your guy went to his room alone right after you left. Trust me, he definitely wasn’t interested.”
Yes.
“So you told him I was staying at the Venetian?”
She nodded. “And I might have added that we planned on coming to the pool today. I didn’t tell him which pool, but I figured those were enough breadcrumbs for him to follow. And for the record, if he’s anything like his friend, trust me when I say, you are very welcome.”
I laughed. I didn’t know Amber or Stacey that well, the age difference between us meant I hadn’t spent a lot of time with Meg’s friends, but they were a lot of fun. A little louder than my sister, but definitely the kind of girls you wanted on a trip like this.
“Thanks. So where’s Amber?”
“She’s feeling the effects of last night a little more than I was. She said she’d be down in a bit. I think she was going to take a nap.”
Meg groaned, using a copy of Vogue to shield the sun from her face. “I should probably go join her.”
I grinned. “I take it that means you aren’t up for a mimosa?”
“I’m never drinking again.”
“More for me, then. Do you want one, Stacey?” She nodded. I grabbed my wallet from my beach bag. “I’m going to head to the bar.”
There were waitresses patrolling the pool area taking drink orders, but it was pretty busy, and I figured it would take a while before someone got around to me.
I walked over to the bar, returning a few smiles that were thrown my way by guys I passed, ignoring the catcalls and the invitations to come join them. I had a feeling a lot of people were still drunk from the night before.
I found an empty spot at the bar, waiting while the bartenders filled orders. After they got to me I paid for the mimosas, heading back to the section of lounge chairs we’d commandeered, and stopped dead in my tracks.
Three guys stood talking to Meg and Stacey. I recognized Easy; wearing navy blue swim trunks, he looked even more beautiful than he had last night. He stood next to a hot guy with reddish hair—channeling Prince Harry—who I hadn’t met before. And then I saw Noah.
My mouth went dry, and any hope of having a coherent thought fled.
Tanned skin. Abs. Fitness magazine abs. Pecs like you read about. Broad shoulders. Aviators. Black swim trunks. Holy fuckballs.
My Chupacabra dating theory went out the window. Everything went out the window. Hopefully, my clothes would follow.
I was going to make this happen or die trying.
NOAH
I turned and my heart stopped.
I’d dreamed of her last night. The kind of dream that ended with me waking up hard, my hand on my cock. I’d thought it would take the edge off, that when I saw her today, the need that burned inside me would have lessened. It wouldn’t have been the first time I’d been attracted to a girl at night only to wake up the next day and find alcohol-tinged arousal lessened by sobriety.
This was not one of those times.
I blinked, half convinced this was a mirage.
She wore white. Some see-through white thing that cloaked her torso and fell just past her hips, baring a lot of leg. Beneath it she wore a white bikini that exposed way more than it covered. And some part of me that had been honed since puberty was pretty sure I could make out the outline of her nipples through the thin top.
I went hard as a rock.
The curves I’d run my hands over last night seemed lusher today, her tits way bigger than a handful, her ass mouthwatering.
Her blond hair tumbled past her shoulders in a gorgeous wave, her mouth full, her lips begging to be kissed. She stopped in front of me, tilting her sunglasses up, her brown eyes dancing, a huge smile breaking out on her face; my heart clenched as though someone had just stabbed me in the chest.
It wasn’t exactly a secret that men were visual creatures, and she’d just given me the best image I’d ever seen.
“Hi.”
I smiled so hard, it hurt my face. “Hi.”
I leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her cheek, holding her to me, my hand against the small of her back, the scent of peppermint and vanilla surrounding me.
I pulled back and pushed my sunglasses up on my head, not wanting anything between me and the girl standing before me.
Jordan handed one of the mimosas off to her friend, but she didn’t move from her spot in front of me.
“You found me.”
I grinned. “It took a few tries, but eventually, yeah, I did.”
Easy walked over, interrupting our conversation. He gave Jordan a head jerk and a smile. “Did you know that the Venetian and Palazzo have several pools?”
A smile tugged at her lips, her words for Easy, but her gaze never leaving mine. “I did.”
“He dragged us to each one looking for you.”
I didn’t even care that he was busting my balls in front of her. I was too dazed to give a shit.
“Is that so?” Laughter filled her voice.
“He was a man on a mission.”
I’d definitely be hearing about this one for a while, but it was totally worth it.
Thor came over to where we stood, his gaze locked on Jordan. Hell, given the looks she’d gotten as she’d wa
lked back from the bar, I was pretty sure half of the pool had noticed her.
“Are you going to introduce me to your friend?” he asked, his smile a little too friendly.
I couldn’t help it. I put my arm around Jordan, feeling like she gave me the greatest gift ever when her body fit to the curve of mine and her head tipped up to smile at me.
She turned her attention to Thor, wrapping her arms around my waist, leaning her head into my chest.
Fuck me.
“I’m Jordan.”
He grinned, the message definitely received. “It’s nice to meet you, Jordan. I’m Thor. Now I see why Burn was so intent on finding the right pool. It was definitely worth the trek.”
She laughed.
“It’s nice to meet you, too. You boys should sit and rest your weary feet after the great pool expedition,” she teased.
I tightened my hold on her, my voice dropping for her ears only. “We actually just reserved a cabana over there. Want to come join us?”
Please come join us.
I figured Easy owed me after he’d kept me up last night listening to the sounds of him going at it with the two bridesmaids. I was definitely cashing in my marker. I wanted some alone time with her and that bikini she was wearing.
Her smile was another punch to my chest. “I would love to. Let me grab my bag.”
We all watched as she bent over and grabbed a giant straw bag, her mimosa in hand. I took the opportunity while she talked to her sister to glare at Easy and Thor. Easy shot me an amused look, as though this girl driving me crazy was solely for his entertainment.
“Fuck off,” I growled under my breath.
His smile deepened.
“I think I’m going to head back to our cabana. Can’t get too much sun.”
I glared at him. “Like hell. You owe me. Hang out here with Thor.”
“You sure? You seem pretty nervous. If you need moral support . . .”
“Fuck off,” I repeated.
He shrugged, a smirk on his face, shoving his hands in the pockets of his swim trunks. “Fine. Have it your way. I’m just saying. You couldn’t close last night; I thought you might need a little extra help.”
Fly With Me Page 3
