Fly In Fly Out

by Evie Snow

  “You said that the first time I picked you up, remember?”

  “Did I?”

  “Yep. You coming?” He gave her hand a small tug.

  “Yeah.” For once, she didn’t feel exhausted after the long flight; seeing him here like this, smelling the warm night air, she was buzzing like she’d plugged herself into an electrical socket.

  She followed him to where he’d parked his Lexus under a large gum tree that was doing a good job of blocking out the light from the nearest streetlamp, and she leaned against the passenger-side door while he reached in his pocket for his keys, taking his time as he ran his eyes over her plane-rumpled self.

  “You going to unlock the car?” she asked, enjoying how he looked, how he moved. She breathed in his crisp aftershave and realized that his scent was becoming a part of the home smell for her too.

  “Not yet.” He gripped her hips, pulling her against him with a grin. “I was planning on saying hello properly first.”

  “Were you?” She smiled widely as his lips brushed hers. “That’s very polite of you.”

  “I’m always polite.” He drew her bottom lip between his teeth and gave it a gentle nip.

  “Nice,” she said softly before burying her fingers in his hair and sliding her tongue over his teeth. He pulled her harder against him with a soft groan.

  “This is really not smart,” he said.

  “Nope.” She began running a series of biting kisses down the side of his chin to his neck.

  “We should wait until we get home.”

  She slid her hands up under his T-shirt, short nails digging into the muscles of his back. He sucked in a breath and rocked against her.

  “Yep.” She chuckled softly. He was hard and she could feel an urgency in his movements that made her want to push him a little more. She moved her hands from his back around his sides to his flat, hard stomach, enjoying the feel of the muscles there jumping at her touch.

  “Oi! This isn’t a bloody hotel, right? Go home or get a room. I’ve got kids here.”

  They both twisted around to see a solidly built middle-aged man with two small children and a cart piled high with baggage glaring at them from a few cars down. His kids were staring at them with goggled eyes.

  “Busted,” Stephen murmured against Jo’s hair.

  “Sorry, mate,” Jo called out to the man, who shook his head disapprovingly.

  When Stephen muttered, “No, you’re not,” she muffled a laugh.

  “No. Not really.” She naughtily ran a hand over the bulge in his shorts.

  “I’ll get revenge for that. Payback’s a bitch,” he said, voice strained as he twisted away and opened her door, giving her backside a sharp smack as she climbed in. More than a little bit turned on and thoroughly elated at being back home, Jo felt her face split into a wide grin that didn’t go away the entire drive back to the apartment.

  The minute they got through the front door, Stephen dropped Jo’s bag and dragged her through to the bathroom before flicking on the taps for the shower.

  “You giving me a hint?” Jo asked, laughing. “Do I smell that bad?”

  “Nope. Just looking for an excuse.” He turned back to her and swiftly unbuttoned her shirt, then her jeans, while taking every chance he could to run his hands over bare skin.

  “An excuse for what?” Jo asked, curious, eyes half closed, mouth curled into a Cheshire cat smile.

  “To get you naked,” he replied with a naughty grin before reaching behind her back to unhook her bra.

  “Easy, tiger.” She held up her hand, pushing against his chest. “Haven’t you heard that good things come to those who wait? Bugger off, and I’ll be out in a second.”

  “Why?” His eyes widened in surprise.

  “Because I just flew a few thousand miles in this underwear, and I’d rather take it off by myself,” Jo said, giving him a glare that had sent roughnecks running for cover many times before.

  Stephen didn’t run anywhere. Instead, he looked down at her bare breasts speculatively as if weighing whether to argue the issue.

  “You’ll be quick?” he asked, running a long finger from her collarbone down to one nipple and then across to the other. They furled into tight buds, and Jo shivered before catching his hands.

  “Promise. Just give me a few minutes.”

  “If you’re not out in five minutes, I’ll have to come in here and carry you to bed,” he said seductively, sliding his finger down the middle of her stomach.

  She caught it just as it ventured below her navel. “I’d like to see you try.”

  “So would I,” Stephen said, ducking the jeans she threw at him as he walked out the door.

  Jo ended up taking just a little longer than she’d intended because the water was so warm and the feeling of anticipation building in her lady parts was too good to let go of so quickly.

  He ended up making her pay for it once they got to the bedroom.

  “Stephen! Oh my god!”

  “That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” Stephen chuckled, his blond head dipping again between Jo’s thighs as he went back to the task of driving her insane, until her legs tensed up so much she thought her muscles were going to snap.

  She gripped his hair, laughing and whimpering, pushing herself against his mouth as his tongue flicked over her then delved inside her in a way that made her scream and writhe against him. “Finish it!”

  He blew gently on her clit and eased a finger inside her, grinning wickedly. “Ask nicely.”

  “You. Bastard!” Jo groaned, reaching down with a hand to touch herself.

  “Uh-uh.” He caught her fingers with his spare hand and gave them a gentle bite before intertwining them with his. “Ask nicely.”

  “Please.” Jo gasped and wailed, back arching as she felt another finger go deep inside her. A pressure so intense filled her lower body that she screamed in frustration as Stephen leaned down and gently bit her clit while his fingers worked their magic.

  She saw stars.

  “Hold that thought,” he muttered roughly before sliding up her body and pushing himself deep. When he couldn’t go any further, he stilled, looking down at her with heavy-lidded eyes, muscles in his shoulders and arms straining.

  She whimpered and tried to move, but he held still, his weight pinning her down.

  “What was that you said?” he asked in a gravelly voice, rearing back.

  “Deeper,” she demanded, pushing against his chest, moving his arms one by one and lifting her long legs to hook her knees over his shoulders. They both groaned in unison at the heightened sensation.

  Stephen started a slow, steady rhythm that had them both sweating and Jo screaming again before they were done, coming hard a second time before he rolled them over, Jo on top, so he could reach between them and touch her where she needed it most. He laughed roughly then shouted when his own release hit him, his whole body shaking as he rolled them over again, collapsing on top of her, his head in the crook of her neck.

  “Oomph,” Jo muttered, hiding her smile in his sweat-dampened hair.

  “Shaddup,” Stephen said softly, his head buried in the pillow beneath them, body vibrating with silent laughter.

  Jo bit his shoulder hard enough to get his attention.

  “Ouch!” He pushed himself up onto his elbows.

  “Shaddup.” Jo ran her hand along the side of his face. “I really did miss you. Is that stupid?”

  “Completely,” Stephen purred, rubbing his stubble-roughened cheek against her palm like a cat.

  “Did you miss me? Like really miss me?” Jo asked, a little scared at how much she needed to hear the right answer from him. It was too soon to be asking questions this heavy, but she needed to know.

  Instead of brushing her off, he leaned down and gave her an impossibly sweet, gentle kiss. “Yeah, but don’t let it go to your head.” Before she could react, he rolled over again and took her with him, tucking her head under his chin. “Now let me get some sleep, you’ve
worn me out.”

  Hearing the mischief in his voice, she punched him lightly on the shoulder.

  He yelped, chuckling. “I missed you. Almost too much. Happy?”

  “Yep.” Feeling immeasurably content, she gave a yawn that would put a tiger to shame and let herself drift off, enjoying the steady thump of his heart beneath her ear.

  Chapter 13

  The rumble of Boomba’s loud purr woke Jo from the first decent sleep she’d had in weeks. She mumbled incoherently and half opened her eyes, reaching up to push the cat off her pillow. He let out a loud, irritated chirrup before jumping off the bed and heading for more comfortable surroundings. Presumably in the kitchen.

  “I hope you’re not going to treat me the same way,” Stephen’s sleep-roughened voice said close to her ear, sending a warm shiver down her spine.

  “Nope. Not if you’re good.” She twisted her head around and gave him a lazy grin, stretched, then looked down at the mess they’d made of her bed. Stephen was gloriously naked in the middle of it, propped up on an elbow and giving her his full attention.

  “You know, this is the first time I’ve been in your room other than to put you to bed when you were drunk and disorderly after that night out with Mike,” he said, eyes lazily drinking in her sleep-flushed cheeks and rumpled hair.

  “Really?” Jo rolled over to face him fully, the sheet twisting around her. She pushed it to her hips. “Didn’t we sleep in here before I left for Mauritania?”

  “Nope.”

  “Huh. And you didn’t sneak a peek in here while I was away?”

  “Nope. Didn’t seem right.” His eyes wandered down to her bare breasts, and for some unaccountable reason, she blushed and pulled the sheet up.

  He grinned widely. “No, don’t. Leave it there.” He reached out to lightly stroke a nipple, which pebbled into a hard nub. “Damn, I love it how they do that.”

  Feeling a liquid rush of pleasure flow through her, Jo reached over and tweaked one of the flat brown disks nestled in the light smattering of golden hair on his chest, enjoying the way his eyes narrowed. “I could say the same here,” she said huskily.

  “Could you now?” Stephen ran a finger down the bridge of her nose and then along her bottom lip.

  “Yep.” Jo inched her inquisitive hand down his flat stomach.

  A feline howl from the kitchen interrupted her descent.

  “Some peace and quiet here would be nice!” Stephen bellowed, scowling at the doorway. The cat howled again in response.

  “He’s got a point. It is breakfast time.” Jo grinned at the indignant pout on Stephen’s lips and moved her hand off his stomach to push herself upright.

  “No, I’ve got a bloody point. He’s a pest.” Stephen looked down morosely at his impressive display of morning wood.

  “Your point can wait.” Jo leaned down and gave his impressive display a sneaky kiss, then jumped off the bed and ran to the bathroom before Stephen could grab her.

  “No, it can’t!” he roared, only to be drowned out by Boomba, who’d decided on a more direct, in-your-face approach. The cat jumped up onto the bed near Stephen’s feet and gave another near deafening howl. Stephen threw a pillow at him, which the cat predictably ducked. In the end, Stephen gave in and made his way to the kitchen.

  “You’re bloody lucky I don’t strangle you and use you for a doorstop,” he grumbled.

  Unamused, Boomba gave him a short meow that could be interpreted as, “Bollocks to you!” in any language before going back to breakfast.

  Knowing that Jo would be spending half the morning in the shower just enjoying unlimited hot water, Stephen took his time making himself a coffee before wandering back into her bedroom. He hadn’t lied when he’d told her he’d avoided her room since that night months ago. He’d been tempted, especially these last few weeks, but something had always held him back. It was Jo’s space, and until she invited him into it, he’d felt like his presence was an invasion of sorts. Now he had an invite, it was a different matter entirely.

  Like the rest of the apartment, Jo’s bedroom was full of high-quality dark wood furniture with only a single large black-and-white photograph decorating the wall between her king-sized bed and her bedroom window. Remembering Mike’s enigmatic comment about the photo in Jo’s bedroom, Stephen moved closer to have a better look.

  It was definitely one of Scott’s photographs. One of his early ones. The black-and-white image depicted two girls standing side by side in torn and filthy clothes, their long hair snarled and straggling. Shadowed by a large peppermint tree, they faced away from the camera.

  The photographer had captured one girl—a tall, heavyset brunette—with her hand reaching towards the shoulders of the other, a tiny blonde half her size whose fists were bunched at her sides in unmistakable frustration. The gesture appeared simultaneously comforting and protective.

  They were watching two other kids in the distance, a short, blond boy who was running along the top of a dam bank, chasing a dark-haired girl. Although bathed in sunlight, his hand was holding something too blurred to see properly. It was obvious the laughing children on the dam bank were oblivious to their audience, who was watching on with what could only be described as intense longing.

  There was something incredibly, indescribably sad about the photograph, and yet also something familiar. Stepping closer, Stephen realized with a shock that he was the boy in the picture, and that the girl he chased was Rachael. He would have been about twelve or thirteen. He recognized the bikini his sister was wearing as one she’d gotten for some long-ago Christmas.

  “I met Scott for the first time that day.”

  Jo’s voice broke his concentration, and he reluctantly turned to find her wearing a short white cotton bathrobe and a distant expression.

  “We caught him only seconds after he took that photo. He’d snuck up on us.”

  “That’s you?” Stephen exclaimed, moving closer to examine the two girls in the foreground.

  “And Amy. I was twelve, so she would have been eight.” Jo made an odd little noise in her throat. “You make me some coffee too?”

  “What? No. Sorry. I thought you’d be longer in the shower,” he said, eyes glued to the photo, trying to process what it meant. How had they not known the Blaine girls were there? What had the girls been doing watching them looking like that? Come to think of it, how had Scott spotted them when no one else had?

  He opened his mouth to start asking questions, but Jo stalled him by running a hand down his back.

  “I’m starving. Come on, make me some coffee while I work out how to cook breakfast. Which, I assure you, will involve milk and cornflakes.” She tugged on his arm, pulling him away from the picture. Her grip was firm, indicating that she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  With great reluctance, he allowed her to pull him away, his brow furrowed. He wanted to know more. “So what were you girls doing there?”

  “Actually, why don’t we go out for breakfast?” Jo interrupted, talking over him.

  “Yeah. Okay.” Stephen tried to work out what was going on with her, feeling frustration rise in him at being shut down yet again. “You sure?”

  “Yep.” Jo dropped her robe and dressed quickly in jeans and a tight white T-shirt. “I’m starving.” She dragged him into his room, throwing his shorts and shirt from the night before at him. “It’s early, no one will care what we look like, let’s go.”

  Stephen knew she was using this urgency to distract him. “But—”

  “We’ll take my bike,” Jo said abruptly. “I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten properly for days.”

  “Okay, we’re gone.” He gave in—after the few things she’d said about the food out on the rig, he couldn’t deny her a cooked breakfast. And he was hungry, after all. There would always be time to talk later. “As long as you let me ride up front.”

  “Negotiation will commence on our way down the stairs,” Jo said, walking away from him to collect her wallet, riding jacket, and tw
o helmets while he swiftly got dressed.

  * * *

  That night, Stephen woke up as Jo gently moved his hand from her hip and rolled quietly out of his bed. Squinting to see in the near-dark, he watched her tiptoe towards the door. Something about the way she moved told him she wasn’t just going to the bathroom or getting a glass of water.

  His curiosity aroused, Stephen quietly padded along behind her as she made her way into her bedroom and over to the photograph he’d looked at that morning. His curiosity increased a thousandfold when she lifted the frame off the wall in an almost reverential manner and slid it under her bed.

  At that point, Boomba decided to make an appearance. He tottered up behind Stephen, meowing loudly. Jo rocketed up from where she was crouched on the other side of the bed, her expression unaccountably terrified.

  “You alright?” Stephen asked, keeping his voice low and calm.

  She ran a visibly shaking hand over her face. “Yeah. You scared me. I was, ah . . . I thought I heard something moving in here, so I came in to see what the noise was,” she finished weakly.

  “You find it?” Stephen had a gut feeling that now wasn’t the time to be calling her out on the lie. He resisted the urge to look towards the blank space on the wall.

  “No. No, I didn’t.”

  “Ah well. Come to bed then, I’ll keep an ear out. You need sleep.” Stephen closed the gap between them and pulled her into a tight, comforting hug, alarmed at how tense she was.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  He was relieved when she melted against his chest, her arms coming around his back and gripping him in a way that almost felt like desperation.

  They stood there in the dark for what seemed like ages, holding each other tightly. Jo with her eyes closed, head resting on Stephen’s shoulder, lips pressed against his neck; Stephen studying the unencumbered hook on the wall behind her with a brooding expression.

  * * *

  “We haven’t had a chance to talk about that phone call Rachael received a while back,” Stephen said a few mornings later.