Fly With Me

by Chanel Cleeton

  In booking our wedding weekend, I’d had the idea to re-create the weekend we’d met as much as possible, so when we checked in to our hotel, we ended up staying at the Venetian in the same suite where we’d first had sex.

  Who said I didn’t have a romantic side.

  Noah lifted me up in his arms, carrying me over the threshold with ease.

  I grinned. “I think you’re supposed to do that after we get married.”

  His mouth found mine. “I’m practicing,” he mumbled between us.

  I leaned back slightly, fluttering my eyelashes, my tongue darting out to lick my bottom lip. I’d put a moratorium on sex the night before the wedding, but that didn’t mean we had to start just yet.

  His eyes flared.

  “In that case, I definitely think we should practice the wedding night.”

  His hand settled on my ass, cupping, squeezing . . .

  His voice sent a tremor down my spine that had my nipples tightening and a low pull settling in my belly.

  “That sounds like a great idea.”

  * * *

  After we’d christened our room, we got dressed up and hit the Strip.

  We’d decided to get married tomorrow to give ourselves a day to recover from the travel. The wedding might have been spur of the moment, but that didn’t mean I didn’t want to look my best. I had the perfect dress, and an appointment to get my hair and makeup done at the hotel.

  Noah took me to dinner at a fancy restaurant at Encore, where we ate a fabulous meal, complemented by an even better bottle of champagne. The whole night felt magical, and I realized how badly we’d needed this break from reality, how much we’d needed to make some time just for the two of us.

  Afterward, he took me to Tao.

  I grinned as we walked through the entrance. “Returning to the scene of the crime?”

  He gave me a heartbreaking smile. “I’ll never forget seeing you dancing here. You were so beautiful, so full of energy. You looked like fun and trouble, and I knew instantly that I wanted to see that smile thrown my way.”

  “I thought you looked like a badass,” I admitted. “A hot badass. There was something about you. The way you walked through the room like you knew exactly who you were and wouldn’t ever apologize for it. You looked like a man and it made me think that I’d been dating boys the whole time.”

  He led me out to the dance floor, taking me to the exact spot where I’d been when we’d first seen each other. I was shocked that he remembered with that kind of detail.

  “I thought you were the Chupacabra,” I told him, the confession escaping before I even realized what I’d said.

  The corner of his mouth tipped up and my heart lurched. God, he was beautiful, and even more than that, it just felt good to see him smile after everything we’d been through. I’d dedicate my life to making him smile. To taking care of him. Loving him.

  “Excuse me?”

  His voice dripped with amusement.

  “The Chupacabra. Legendary mythical beast indigenous to Latin America.”

  His grin deepened. “You thought I was a beast.”

  “A sexy, needle-in-the-haystack beast.”

  “Well, that makes it better, then.”

  My eyes narrowed. “Are you mocking me?”

  “Never.”

  “’Cause it seems like you’re mocking me.”

  “I am honored to be relegated to a tale told to scare children.”

  I laughed. “Something like that.”

  He pulled me into his arms. “I love you.”

  My heart still tumbled and sputtered at those three words falling from his lips, my mouth breaking out into an enormous grin.

  Would it always be like this between us? Would time temper the feelings inside me? Take the love bursting through me and turn it into a steady stream rather than an explosion my skin couldn’t contain? Or was it part of our life together—the uncertainty of it, at least—did the craziness of his schedule, of deployments and danger, make us hang on tighter, feel more, love deeper?

  Yes.

  He released me, taking a step back, and then he was on his knee.

  We were getting married, so the proposal really shouldn’t have been that much of a shock, and yet, some part of me that had once thrown weddings for my dolls and worn my T-shirt inside out over my head like a veil trailing behind me felt a freaking flutter taking root and spreading through my limbs.

  This was the moment. The moment I’d thought about as a little girl. The moment I’d thought would never occur when I endured bad date, after bad date, after worse date. We’d put the cart before the horse, but right now I didn’t care. Every single romantic bone in my body and a few I didn’t even know I possessed were focused on the sight of Noah kneeling in the middle of a crowded Vegas nightclub—the exact spot where we’d met—offering me the world.

  He pulled an immediately recognizable little blue box out of the jacket he’d worn to dinner and my heartbeat kicked up a notch.

  And then he flipped open the lid.

  It was a classic setting, a round solitaire diamond that was the perfect size and full of sparkle.

  Noah swallowed, his expression intent, his gaze on mine. “I know this hasn’t been the most romantic engagement. And I’m sorry that you aren’t getting to have the big, fancy wedding. With our lifestyle, it’ll be like this sometimes, but I want you to always know how much I love you.” He flashed the cocky grin I’d fallen in love with. “Will you marry me?”

  I laughed, tears filling my eyes as I gave him a shaky nod, holding out my hand so he could slide the ring onto my finger.

  NOAH

  “We’re not having sex tonight.”

  I skimmed a hand up Jordan’s leg, my fingers reaching the hem of the sheer black lace nightgown she’d put on that had me questioning the sanity of our decision not to fool around the night before our wedding.

  I groaned as I traced the line of lace against her skin, my fingers itching to go higher, to sink between her thighs.

  “Just a little bit?”

  She laughed. She lay on her side facing me, her body on gorgeous display, her lips so fucking tempting.

  “It’s bad luck to have sex the night before your wedding.”

  I made a face. “Says who? I’m pretty sure I’ve never heard that particular superstition.”

  “Says everyone.”

  She cuddled closer to me, her tits pressing into my chest, making the ache in my cock even worse.

  “Let’s make our own luck,” I whispered, hoping my voice came off as tempting and not needy as hell.

  Our sex life had changed since the accident, since I’d returned from Alaska. What had been fun and playful between us had become a thing of need, a desperate race to fuck. It was good. Mind-blowingly good. But part of me missed the playful sex, the ease of it that drained the tension from my day and replaced whatever shit was going on with a smile. I wanted to get back to normal, or whatever our normal was anyway. And I really wanted to get underneath her lace.

  “What about just the tip?”

  She snorted. “What are you, sixteen?”

  “Feels like it.”

  She laughed. “It’s been like six hours.”

  “It’s been eight.”

  “Let me get this straight, you can’t remember what I asked you to pick up from the grocery store when I give you a three-item list, but you can remember exactly how long it’s been since we last had sex?”

  I fingered the lace, wishing I was fingering something else, moving my hand just a few inches higher.

  “It’s a gift. I also remember what you were wearing and that you sat on my face.”

  Jordan shoved at my chest, her palm resting over my heart. “Why do I love you again?”

  “Because I’m naturally amazing, and if you let m
e, I’ll make you come your brains out.”

  The fingers on my chest stroked my skin.

  “Really?” she purred.

  We have liftoff.

  Her fingernail scraped at my nipple, sending a tingle down my spine, my balls tightening.

  “What about fooling around?”

  “Is this a variation of just the tip?”

  I rolled over until she was beneath me. Her legs spread and I settled my cock between her thighs, my boxers a barrier I was desperate to shed.

  “Maybe,” I murmured, my mouth finding the spot in the hollow of her neck that I loved. I nipped her skin there, my tongue following the bite. Her hips arched beneath me.

  I slid my hand between us, trailing my fingers up the inside of her thigh, each touch teasing a shiver from her skin.

  “Am I going to get an orgasm out of this?” she whispered, her breath hitching as I slid even higher, hovering there.

  “Definitely.”

  I leaned down, claiming her mouth, taking her tongue into mine, sucking on it, my teeth scraping at her pouty lips. If she didn’t want to have full-on sex before our wedding, I’d respect that, and if her version of fooling around meant I’d have her lips wrapped around my cock later, then I was all in.

  My fingers stroked higher, her legs parting wider, a sound somewhere between a moan and a sigh filling the air around us as I hit the right spot. I teased her flesh, gliding over her pussy, her arousal coating my fingers. She shuddered beneath my hand.

  My thumb found her clit, and she arched forward, her tits in my face a temptation I couldn’t resist. My free hand reached up and slipped under the lace, cupping her, my thumb finding her nipple, rubbing the tight point back and forth while my other hand worked her clit.

  God, she was gorgeous. So fucking gorgeous. There was something so sexual about her. She wasn’t shy about what she liked, her gaze hungry, and I knew immediately what she wanted. She wasn’t chasing an orgasm, she was hoarding them, knew that with her no-sex challenge the gauntlet had been thrown down. Maybe I couldn’t make her come with my cock, at least, not with my cock inside her, but I’d make her come every other way. First with my fingers and then while I fucked her tits.

  I leaned forward and captured her other nipple between my teeth, tugging lightly while she squirmed against me, her pussy clenching around my fingers, drawing me deeper. Jordan’s hands threaded through my hair, pulling me down, offering more of her body up to me.

  I fucked her with my fingers while my mouth teased her nipples, moving from one breast to the next, her skin flushed from my lips, tongue, and teeth. Her hips circled my hand, taking what she wanted, doing everything she could to get herself off until I increased the pressure on her clit, my strokes faster now, and then she arched her back, her hair falling against the pillow, moans escaping her lips, as I watched the unforgettable sight of Jordan coming.

  When the last tremor left her body, I rolled to the side, my arm around Jordan, until we lay in bed facing each other, our bodies still joined by my hand between her legs. My fingers slid out, stroking her soft skin, covered in her wetness. Jordan sighed, her gaze on mine, a happy smile tugging at her mouth.

  Her gaze went molten as I sucked her off my fingers.

  I grinned. “Sweet. I can’t decide which part of your body I like to taste more.”

  My hand turned greedy, and I couldn’t resist playing with her rosy nipples, the sight of them tight and wet from my mouth and hands making my dick ache.

  Jordan groaned, moving out of my grasp, her voice teasing. “No. More. Orgasms. At least, for the next five minutes.”

  I leaned back against the pillows. “Weak sauce.”

  Jordan arched an eyebrow at me. “Are you challenging me to see who can take more? Game on, fighter boy.”

  She tossed me a naughty grin, her naked body sliding down mine, all hips and boobs, until her mouth disappeared between my legs.

  “My turn,” she purred, her throat vibrating against my dick.

  Best time not having sex I’d ever had.

  TWENTY-NINE

  JORDAN

  With everything that had happened in the past few weeks, I hadn’t had time or really even thought about getting a wedding dress. Luckily, Sophia had amazing taste in fashion and access to designers, and she hooked a sister up with a dress that had needed minimal altering and stole my heart the first time I saw it.

  I adjusted my boobs, pulling the bodice up with a sigh. Strapless was iffy with double Ds. On the one hand, I knew Noah would appreciate the show; on the other, I’d be waging a losing fight with gravity for most of the night. Whatever. It would be worth it to see Noah’s expression.

  The dress was hands-down the prettiest thing I’d ever seen. It was cut in a mermaid style, the fabric a gorgeous lace that looked like it had been hand-sewn by monks who’d taken a vow of silence or something like that. The bodice was a sweetheart neckline. The hem had a hint of tulle under the lace that gave the illusion that I walked on a cloud.

  It hugged my curves, giving me killer cleavage, a hidden corset sucking in the parts that needed to be sucked in, highlighting my hips and ass.

  I’d have been lying if I didn’t admit that through various times in my life I’d wished I were skinnier or had a little less boobs, a little less ass. And then somewhere along the way, I’d stopped caring. This was me, and I liked it, and Noah liked it, which was an added bonus considering I doubted I had the patience to put up with a guy who was going to give me shit about my body.

  I loved that Noah loved me exactly the way I was. I realized now how many of my dating years had been spent trying to be someone I wasn’t, never understanding that if I had hooked a guy, it wouldn’t have meant anything because he wouldn’t have known me. There was no substitute for finding the guy who loved you for you.

  I picked up the pink bouquet, inhaling the scent of roses, peonies, and a few other flowers I didn’t recognize. Five minutes to show time.

  I’d done the bridesmaid thing enough times to see bridal nerves in action—my friends crying because the flowers in the church were screwed up or freaking out over a glitch with the seating chart. I hadn’t thought a lot about what kind of bride I’d be on my wedding day, but then again, even if I had, the reality of today was so different—so unexpected—that I doubted I could have even come close.

  I wasn’t nervous. At all. No second thoughts—I’d been to those weddings too, one where a friend had almost been a runner—my body was free from tension. I was excited. Ready to start the next chapter of my life, ready to claim my future with Noah. Maybe it was all we had been through in the past few weeks, but I liked that we’d stripped all the trappings and excess away, and while I wasn’t having the glossy magazine wedding, we’d gotten down to the essentials.

  Him. Me. Forever.

  “Are you ready?”

  I turned toward Sharon, the wedding planner, hovering near the open doorway.

  “Yes.”

  I slid my engagement ring—I couldn’t stop staring at it—to my right ring finger in preparation for Noah slipping on the band that would make me his wife.

  My bouquet in one hand, the hem of my skirt in the other, I did a last-minute beauty check in the mirror. I’d splurged and had someone from the hotel salon come to the room and do my hair and makeup and she’d done an amazing job. With how casual the wedding was, a big veil had seemed kind of silly, so I ended up with a short wisp of netting that covered the side of my face and was attached to the most gorgeous headpiece of crystals and feathers.

  It was amazing.

  I followed Sharon out of the room, the first flutter taking root in my stomach.

  This was it. This was the beginning of the rest of my life.

  I walked forward, each step feeling like it took me closer and closer to where I belonged, and the music hit me first. And when I realized the
song he’d picked, a smile spread across my face, a laugh escaping, then another. And then the tears came.

  Elvis Presley. “Can’t Help Falling in Love.”

  It was the perfect song for Vegas, the perfect song for the love that had swept us up and turned our lives inside out. And it was Noah, big, badass, fighter pilot Noah, giving me romance.

  My feet hit the aisle runner as Elvis crooned around us, at the exact moment when the Bellagio fountains shot up over the Strip, the Vegas sun setting in a gorgeous sky of pinks, and reds, and oranges. But the thing that made me stop in my tracks for a moment, stealing the breath from my chest, wasn’t the scenery or the unabashedly romantic air enfolding us. It was the sight of Noah standing at the end of the altar, dressed in a formal blue uniform—elegant jacket that looked like a military version of a tux, crisp white shirt, navy bow tie, and blue trousers that highlighted how tall and masculine he was. The medals on his chest gleamed in the dying Vegas light.

  I’d been wrong when I’d said I liked Navy uniforms best. This was something out of a fucking fairytale. He looked like every prince I’d read about when I was a child.

  Total Chupacabra.

  Our gazes locked across the aisle and the look on his face was so close to the one he’d given me the first time he saw me, like I was everything he’d ever wanted, and it hit me so hard that I gave up on trying to fight the tears and crossed the distance to my future.

  NOAH

  I would never forget this moment as long as I lived.

  I was a guy, so it wasn’t like I’d spent a lot of time thinking about my wedding. I’d wanted Jordan to be happy and have the kind of day she’d dreamed of, hence the wedding package at the Bellagio, and the mess dress, and the fancy dinner reservations I’d made for later on tonight. A part of me worried that I’d cheated her out of the big wedding, so I’d tried to make up for it as best as I could, knowing that this wouldn’t be the first time I couldn’t give her everything she deserved.