Fly With Me

by Chanel Cleeton

  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.

  “I can’t go slow now. I’ll go slowly later. Promise.”

  I ground out the words, my hands already taking over, tugging at her sweater, pulling it off, cupping her breasts, fuck me, sliding down the soft skin, down her stomach, until I reached the snap of her jeans, fumbling with the button before dragging the zipper down and slipping my hand inside her thong.

  I found her clit, stroking her, once, twice, before going lower, needing to fill her up. I slid a finger inside her, the friction not nearly enough, my cock jerking as she rode my hand. She turned in my arms, attacking my clothes like a woman possessed, sliding down my body, her mouth following the path her hands took.

  It all became a haze, sharpened by random sensations—her teeth on my pec, her nails streaking down my back, the rasp of a zipper, the soft thunk of clothes hitting the floor.

  Somehow we got naked and then she was bent over the bed, her palms on the comforter, feet on the ground, ass in the air, looking like every fantasy I’d ever had. Hell, I was pretty sure this image would be burned in my brain for eternity.

  I grabbed a condom from my jeans’ pocket, tearing open the foil wrapper and sliding it on, my hands shaking with the movement. And then I was sliding inside her, my hands on her hips, pulling her closer while I fucked her hard.

  It felt like forever, and at the same time, like the blink of an eye. There were no words, nothing but the joining of our bodies speaking a frenzied beat. And then she was coming, and I was coming, and our bodies collapsed in a heap on the bed, and I knew without question that she had ruined me for all other women.

  ELEVEN

  JORDAN

  It was ridiculously ironic that when I was twenty, my body was capable of sexual acrobatics, only to be relegated to partners who came after a minute and whose repertoire didn’t extend past missionary. Now that I was thirty, I’d found a man whose art was fucking, and of course, my body felt like it had been run over by a truck. Twice.

  I’d possibly done something to my back. And there was a kink I couldn’t work out of my neck no matter how hard I tried. And I was hobbling. Sort of. If you looked up the phrase “Rode hard and put up wet,” you’d see a picture of my wincing face, my torso slightly hunched over to take some of the pressure off my aching back.

  Death by orgasms.

  It was the kind of thing I normally would have found hilarious, except I was beginning to realize there was nothing funny about sex injuries. And I probably needed to haul my ass to a gym.

  I padded to the kitchen, following the smell of coffee, not sure I was ready to face Noah, but definitely sure I couldn’t handle getting pounced on again. I figured the odds of Easy walking in on us would help keep us away from each other.

  Fingers crossed.

  I hit the kitchen and caught sight of Noah leaning against the countertop, draining a giant sports drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing in a way that had my gaze going straight to his tanned neck. And then lower . . .

  Jesus, take the wheel.

  Apparently he’d gone for a run—was he human?—and lost his T-shirt somewhere along the way. His chest was bare, a pair of low-slung athletic shorts clinging to his thighs. A glimmer of sweat coated his skin.

  I took a step back.

  Another round would
kill me. We needed space. And public places.

  Noah set the drink down, his gaze settling on me, a slow smile spreading across his gorgeous mouth. He took a step toward me.

  I took another step back. I lifted a hand in the air.

  “No more sex.”

  He stopped, his hands on his hips, head cocked to the side, a different sort of smile playing on his lips.

  “What?”

  I shook my head. “I need a sex break. A moratorium. A hiatus. A chastity pact. And you need to stay in your corner.” I gestured toward the cabinets. “Space, good. Touching, bad.”

  The smile widened. “You’re sexy as fuck when you’re being neurotic.”

  No. No.

  “I’m serious. I think you broke my vagina.” And my back. Not to mention my freaking neck. And there was this twinge in my hip . . . maybe that was what the hobbling was about.

  Noah exploded into laughter, and in a flash his arms were around me, burrowing me against his muscular, sweaty, fuck . . .

  “Do you need me to kiss it and make it better?” he whispered in my ear, his voice teasing.

  I groaned. “I need you to not have sex with me for twenty-four hours. I mean, twelve. Okay, fine, eight.”

  He pulled back, his eyes dancing with amusement. “How about I jump in the shower . . .”

  Roll tongue back into mouth.

  “And then I take you to breakfast. There’s a really good pancake place a few miles up the road.”

  My gaze drifted down the impressive abs, held, and then back up to his face again. “You eat pancakes?”

  This time he leaned into me, brushing my hair off my face, pressing his lips to the top of my head.

  “No, but you do. And if I can’t keep you satisfied with the tools at my disposal . . .” He flashed me a wicked grin that brought a little spasm between my thighs. “Extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures.”

  His lips were on me again, all too brief and fleeting, and then he was gone, walking down the hall to take his shower. I stood in the kitchen, my gaze glued to his back and the ass that I kind of wanted to bite.

  It really was a snowy day in hell when pancakes were starting to look like the consolation prize.

  They so were.

  NOAH

  I held Jordan’s hand as we walked toward the restaurant, our fingers linked, the same smile I’d had since I saw her this morning still on my mouth.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d dated a girl that I’d smiled this much around, if ever. Or that I’d felt this way about. Maybe it was fast, but I knew without a doubt that I wanted to move this into the relationship zone.

  She was fucking hilarious. Smart. Sexy as hell. Gorgeous. Kind. She was everything I could have ever wanted in a girl and a few things I hadn’t realized I wanted, but now that I had them, I wanted to hold on tight.

  I had no idea what the future held, but this was the kind of girl I could see myself having a future with. The kind of girl who would greet me when I returned home from deployments with her arms and legs wrapped around me. This was the kind of girl that if you were smart, and played your cards right, you changed your life for.

  I held the door open for her, unable to resist admiring the view despite her no-sex edict. She’d gone for casual, but considering the way she filled out her jeans, casual made a statement.

  The restaurant was packed when we arrived, and I went up to the hostess station and gave my name, and then we stood in the corner of the entryway, waiting for our table to become available.

  I squeezed her hand. “Hungry?”

  Jordan nodded. “Starving.” She tossed me a quizzical look. “So what do you normally eat for breakfast?”

  I shrugged. “Oats. Fruit. Yogurt.”

  She grinned. “Way to live dangerously.”

  I matched her grin, my voice becoming a parody. “That’s right. I am dangerous.”

  She burst out laughing at the Top Gun reference. “Cute. I thought you hated that movie.”

  “I don’t hate the movie. I thought it was the coolest thing I’d ever seen when I was a kid. I couldn’t figure out why he wanted to spend so much time with that girl, though.”

  “And now?” she joked.

  “Now that I’ve been inside you, I can see the appeal. Apparently some things are better than flying,” I answered, my tone completely serious.

  Her cheeks turned pink.

  “You totally can’t say things like that to me in public.”

  I grinned, unable to resist the urge to kiss her.

  Jordan pulled back with a breathless sigh, her arm tight around my waist. I stared down into her brown eyes, a pang in my chest as I realized that she would be leaving tomorrow, and I had no idea when I’d see her again. I literally had months of vacation days accumulated, but taking leave was another thing entirely. We were always busy, seemed perpetually undermanned, and even when I gave plenty of notice, there was always some commitment that came up and prevented me from leaving. Joker was a good guy, and he definitely appreciated the importance of taking care of your personal life, but I wasn’t sure he could spare me so soon after Red Flag. Especially since we had a TDY to Alaska coming up.

  I wanted to go to Florida. Wanted to make an effort to see her, wanted her to know she was a priority. I’d been here before. I mean not here, not with someone I liked as much as I liked her, but there had been other girls I’d wanted to date, other attempts at starting relationships that had crashed and burned because no matter how hard I tried, work always came first.

  What I hadn’t told Jordan was that I’d gotten my call sign in part because of an emergency I’d had in the jet, but also because I was shit at relationships. When I was younger, it had been easier to shrug it off, to tell myself it didn’t matter, that I had plenty of time to meet a girl, start a family. And now I felt like an idiot. I was thirty-three, and my life wasn’t that different from what it had been a decade ago. Still going out to bars and clubs with Easy, looking to get laid, still spending holidays in front of the TV with crappy takeout on the years that I couldn’t make it to California to see my family.

  And now there was Jordan. And even though it hadn’t been that long, and I had no idea how things would play out between us, she was too perfect for me to ignore the twinge that told me that if I fucked this up with her, the odds of me finding a girl like her again were pretty much nil.

  She nudged me. “You okay?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.” I hesitated, wondering when I’d become the guy who initiated the relationship conversation. Maybe it was a side effect of growing up. Or maybe it was the fear of losing out on this chance.

  “I can’t believe you have to leave tomorrow.”

  “I know. It’s been a short visit.”

  I squeezed her hip. “So when am I going to see you again?”

  A hesitant smile played at her full mouth. “You want to see me again?”

  “Yes.”

  The smile got bigger. “Good.”

  I felt like a teenager again, but it was the truth, and somewhere along the way I’d made the conscious decision not to play games with her.

  “I like you. A lot.”

  She beamed back at me, squeezing my hand. “I like you a lot, too.”

  “I know this is tough with our schedules and everything, but I want to try to make it work.” I couldn’t believe I was having this conversation in the entrance of a pancake restaurant, but at the moment I couldn’t be bothered to care all that much. “I want to see if there could be a future here.”

  My heart pounded. On the one hand, we were both definitely at that age when relationships implied settling down. On the other, honestly, I’d been here enough times to be hesitant to make promises I couldn’t keep. And she seemed like she understood about my job, but other girls had before her, only to end things when
an unexpected deployment came up or I missed the holy trifecta of Valentine’s Day–birthday–anniversary.

  Jordan leaned toward me, wrapping both of her arms around me, pressing her face to my chest. Her words were muffled there, but I heard them anyway.

  “Me, too.”

  JORDAN

  It was way too soon for me to admit this. Way too soon for me even to be feeling it. But I did.

  I liked him. A lot. And despite the logistics of it, my heart could definitely see a future with him, even as my head struggled to figure out how to have a future with him without giving up something that mattered a lot to me.

  We spent the day doing touristy stuff, Noah showing me around Oklahoma City. I didn’t know if it was the fact that he’d basically exhausted me or what, but the sexual tension between us settled to a more manageable level since the first time I’d met him, and instead of thinking about how much I wanted to jump him, I spent most of the day just enjoying his company.

  He was really fun and smart. He made me laugh constantly. And he was sweet, affectionate in a way that tugged at my heart.

  He held my hand as he led me around the city. When he drove us places in his big SUV, his palm rested on my thigh, not in a sexual way, but like he wanted the reminder that I was next to him. Like he needed it.

  With every hour that passed, I fell deeper, harder, and I freaked out a little bit more.

  For dinner, he took me to a hole-in-the-wall barbecue restaurant that had amazing brisket.

  We were that couple—we sat next to each other in the booth, his hand on my thigh. I’d never understood why couples sat like that and even mocked my fair share for looking like they were Velcroed together, but now that I was in the same position, I totally got it.

  And liked it. A lot.

  “So what does March look like for you?” Noah asked, his fingers stroking my leg through the denim.