by Anthology
And since she knew he probably wouldn’t be flying tonight, wouldn’t that be worth exploring?
But she couldn’t break her almost-two-year sex drought with someone as hot as he was. She’d need a few practice rounds before taking on a guy like… “What’s your name?”
He grinned, slow and sweet, like she’d just given him the moon. That was a nice touch, but a little too practiced. She held her hand up between them before he could answer.
“No, don’t tell me. Never mind.” Spinning around again, not entirely sure how he’d knocked her off her course to home, she refocused on the sensible path.
Apparently he wasn’t a fan of abrupt goodbyes. This time he didn’t use his words to turn her around, he just reached out and slid one of his big, strong hands around her forearm. Heat radiated through her light blazer, and as soon as he had her facing him again, he let go. Persistent, but not pushy. He walked that line with care.
He narrowed his eyes in thought, then nodded. “Okay, no names. I like that, gives a bit of mystery to the next few hours. I’ll call you Red, and you can—”
Emme laughed despite herself. “No. Never Red.”
“Shorty.”
Another giggle, and an unfamiliar warmth spread across her chest. This was weirdly fun. “Ew, no.”
“Mystery Girl?”
Yeah, that would work. “You can call me M for Mystery.”
“M.” God, she liked the way he said her name, thinking it was just a letter. The trick jostled something inside her, spilling a drop of liquid desire in places she’d thought of as scorched earth. “And what should you call me?”
Sir. She could feel her cheeks flush at the thought, and from the way his eyes danced at her, he maybe could guess where her mind had gone. That was okay. They were flirting.
Holy crap, she wanted to do a little jig. She was flirting with a cute boy. The weight of the last week—the last year—fell away, and she cocked her head to the side. “How about we grab that dinner you mentioned and figure that out together?”
The redhead seemed to know her way around the terminal. She quickly settled them in a booth at a bar and grill, then busied herself with the menu.
Nathan let her hide for a minute before giving in to his base desire to see her eyes again. “So what else is off-limits? Can I ask where you were flying tonight?”
She blinked up at him, weighing the question for a minute before setting the menu aside. “Texas.”
He laughed. “Wow, top-secret information, eh?”
“San Antonio.”
“For absolutely no reason?”
“Pretty much.” She leaned back against her side of the booth. “Your turn to be totally forthcoming about something.”
“I’m going to San Diego.”
“That’s not new information.”
“Because I live there.”
“Neither is that.” She stuck her tongue out at him, an unexpectedly playful response, and he decided to give her something.
“I’m in the Navy. Originally from Chicago, hence the visit here.”
“Cool.” She picked up her menu again, coyly this time, and slowly slid it in front of her face. He let her get it up to her eyes before tugging at the top and shifting it to the side. “Hey, I was reading that!”
“I’m pretty sure this isn’t your first or fifth time in this bar, and you know exactly what you want.” He slowed his words down, teasing her a bit, because until his plane took off, he’d be happy to give her whatever it was she wanted, any way she’d take it.
“Okay.” She set the menu down and crossed her hands in the middle of the table, seemingly oblivious to his double entendre. Nathan was struck with the strongest urge to touch her hands—long, slim fingers topped with neatly trimmed nails. Feminine but strong. He wanted to lace their fingers together, but he held himself back because she was so skittish. She rewarded him with a laughing grin. “I’m a flight attendant. Happy?”
“Very. If I play my cards right, maybe you’ll call me up the next time you’re in San Diego.”
A cloud drifted over her face, and he regretted saying too much.
“Hey, it’s okay. Are you… Is this a problem, us having dinner?”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Nope, not at all. Other than it’s the first time I’ve done anything like this in a long time.”
“That sounds like it has a heavy story behind it.”
With a sigh, she blinked her eyes open, a determined look newly in place. “Not one that matters tonight. And… that’s all I can handle right now—just tonight, okay?”
“Sure.” He tapped the menu. “What’s good?”
Two club sandwiches and a shared order of fries later, he knew his mystery woman liked tomatoes but not pickles, was addicted to hate-watching reality shows, and she was the youngest of four—something they had in common. And she was still nameless.
“Okay, M.” He crumpled his napkin and tossed it onto his empty plate. “Time to name me.”
As she appraised him from across the booth, she pulled her lower lip between her teeth, and he found himself staring. Such a cliché, and he didn’t care. She had a damn pretty mouth.
“West Coast,” she started, and he frowned his disapproval, much to her delight. “Big Guy. Gentle Giant. Little One.”
“No. Only in the bedroom. No. And absolutely never.”
“Is Sailor too obvious?” She blinked up at him as she asked, and her voice had dropped in a husky wave of words that gave him half a hard-on.
He cleared his throat, totally unnerved by how perfect the name sounded on her lips. “No, that’ll do.”
“So, Sailor.” From the pink of her cheeks, the nickname worked just as well for her. “What do you like to do for fun?”
CHAPTER TWO
Emme didn’t know what had gotten into her, but she really liked the way her Navy guy kept looking at her across the table.
“I read. I like movies. I run.” He shrugged. “Most of the time, I’m working, to be honest.”
“Have you seen a lot of the world?”
As soon as the question was out there, she wanted to reel it back in, but it wasn’t the first time he’d fielded it, clearly.
“Not the same parts you have, M.”
She made a face. “I mostly see airports and hotel rooms for six hours at a time if I’m lucky.”
“I mostly see military bases and cots in barracks. Six hours sounds luxurious.” He winked.
“I bet.” She swallowed hard. “Thank you, you know. For not sleeping a lot. And serving our country.”
He just nodded, then suddenly reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “Your turn, M. Tell me something that you like.”
I like you touching me. His callused fingers woke her up like nothing she’d ever experienced, as if his touch was actually electric.
“Let me guess.” He dropped his voice. “You’re a dog person.”
“Cats.”
“Long walks on the beach.”
With him, sure. Anyone else… “I’m more of a camping and bonfire girl.”
“I bet you look cute as hell in plaid.”
She took a deep breath. “You too.”
He squeezed her fingers and started to say something else when his phone vibrated on the table. He held on to her hands with one of his while he checked his messages with the other. “My flight. Says it’s still just delayed, not canceled.”
“Do you have to be back for work?” She could probably help him squeeze onto a Cali-bound plane if it was important. If any took off tonight.
“In theory, but if I get snowbound, they’ll deal.”
“I can—” She sucked in a breath as he reached across the table and pressed his index finger to her lips.
“Shhh. If I can steal another few hours with you, I’m going to do that.”
“Why?” she asked against hand, breathing in the faint taste of him.
“Because you’ve got pretty eyes,” he s
aid, his own gorgeous gaze locked on her face. “And a sexy laugh. You travel light and have a secret punk girl hiding under your suit. But mostly because I don’t want to say goodbye yet.”
“Secret punk girl?” Her heart thumped eagerly in her chest.
“No Doubt sticker on your phone. Cute little skull piercing on your belly button.”
She jerked her gaze down to her midsection. “Do you have x-ray vision?”
“Noticed at security.” He winked. “You raised your arms.”
“Oh.” She held his gaze for a minute, enjoying the naked appreciation there. “It’s new. Nobody else has seen it.”
“Then I’m a lucky man.”
She glanced over at the bar. She wanted more of this, but not here. “Come on. I’ve got an idea.”
Her idea turned out to be beer that the bartender happily put in to-go cups—apparently a secret thing that made O’Hare immediately more fun in Nathan’s eyes—and a bench tucked around the corner from a departure gate. In front of them was a floor-to-ceiling glass window that turned the quiet hallway into their own private airplane-geek snow globe. She pointed to the bench, handed him her beer, and promised to be right back.
While she was gone, he shot a quick email to his commanding officer, copying the clerk, advising them of his probable travel delays. If he was given an opportunity to spend another night in Chicago, he was going to take it. And maybe—hopefully—have company for breakfast.
Five minutes later she returned a completely different woman. Gone was the black suit. In its place she wore super-faded, distressed jeans, a heavy brown leather belt, and a long-sleeve thermal Henley that fit like a glove.
“Wow, you dress down nicely.”
She blushed. “We need to wear business clothing when we fly standby. Since I’m not getting out of here tonight, the suit could go.”
He patted the bench and held her beer out. “Come here and tell me more about the secrets of this airport.”
“There’s a yoga room.”
“And I forgot my mat.”
She laughed, her shoulder brushing his as she eased closer with each shake, and Nathan shifted his hand to the back of the bench, opening up his side for leaning if she was interested.
She was. It was tentative, but once their thighs slid together, she didn’t move away. He turned his face towards her, breathing in the jasmine and vanilla scent of her shampoo, but she kept her gaze pinned straight ahead.
“Tell me something,” he said quietly.
“That’s the opposite of being mysterious.” Her lips curled in a little smile.
“Let’s make it a game, then. Two truths and a lie.”
“You go first.”
You make me hard. I’ve got condoms. I love yoga. “I’m afraid of snakes… I’ve never been to Disney World… I have a Betty Boop tattoo.”
“No way.” She spun in her spot, and he took advantage of her move to wrap his arm around her a little more tightly. Their faces were close now, close enough to kiss, but he wasn’t sure they were on the same page about that.
Hell, he was ready to find the nearest bed and have her ride him. His judgement call on how fast they should move was not the measure to go by. He took a deep breath and fixed his poker face. “Well? Which one is a lie?”
“Gotta be Disney. And I’m desperate to see this tattoo.”
“I’ll have you know I have manly tattoos as well.”
“I bet you do. And I bet they’re cute. But I want to see Betty.” She leaned in and touched her fingertips to his collar, tugging gently.
“Not there.” His voice was rough enough for her to take notice, and she glanced up, almost bumping their faces together as she realized how close she’d gotten to him. She yanked herself back. “You’ve got freckles.”
“Most redheads do,” she said quietly.
“Hey, M. I want to kiss you right now. But I’m not sure what the deal is.”
She parted her lips for a minute, then closed her eyes and screwed up her face as she if needed courage. “I want you to kiss me, too… I’m afraid of heights… I’ve got some issues because my divorce was finalized today.”
Wow. That was some sharing. “I’m sorry.”
She cracked one eyelid and peered at him, like she wanted to test his reaction. He wasn’t going to make this hard for her. It sounded like she’d already been dealt more than enough of that shit.
“I mean, being scared of heights as a flight attendant—that must suck.” He leaned in close, brushing a strand of hair off her cheek. “Can I kiss you now?”
“Yes, please.”
He curved his hand along her jaw, savoring the softness of her skin and the sweet look on her face for a moment before he lowered his head and tasted her lips for the first time.
Vanilla lip balm and the barest touch of a warm tongue. Tentative heat and welcoming sweetness. He groaned as she breathed him in, opening for him to explore her mouth deeper. His fingers tangled in the silky straight strands of her hair as she stroked her hands up his chest and around his neck.
“Wow,” she whispered when they paused for air. “That was some kiss, Sailor.”
“You can probably call me N—unf!” The rest of his name was lost in her mouth as she flew into his lap, covering his mouth with hers as she straddled his legs with her own. Her fearlessness took him by surprise—and turned him on even more than before.
“Uh-uh,” she said softly as she licked her way out of his mouth again. “No names.”
“That’s just cruel.” A lie. Yeah, he wanted her name. He wanted to know everything about her. But he could handle her boundaries, no problem.
“Awww, poor baby. I’ll kiss you and make it better.” Her eyes crinkled up as she laughed gently. “This is fun, right?”
He palmed her ass, tugging her tighter into his lap. “Hell yeah.”
This time she brought her lips to his so slowly he wasn’t sure she was moving at first. But with each inch, his need for her grew, and by the time she sank her teeth gently into his lower lip, he was a goner. Rocking his hips in the cradle of her thighs, he took over the embrace, showing her with his tongue what he’d do with his cock if this wasn’t such a shitty day for her.
He wouldn’t—couldn’t—take advantage of her. She’d been hesitant about dinner. No way could he play with the off-the-charts chemical reaction between their bodies just to make her forget her fragility. Because he was literally leaving on a jet plane.
Ask her how often she comes to the west coast, a voice on his shoulder said, and damned if he could tell if it was an angel or devil. Shut up and pay attention to the only kisses you might ever get from her, said another voice. Different. Equally conflicting.
And in his arms, a woman whose name he still didn’t know swiveled her hips.
Jesus H. Murphy.
She kissed her way down his neck, and he slid one hand under her shirt. Hot, smooth skin. A dip in the middle of her back, then the rise of her vertebrae as he traced her spine north. A bra strap, and didn’t that just fill his cock with all the remaining blood in his body.
Over her shoulder, out the window, snow fell in the cold, dark night. Fucking poetic as she licked the hollow at the base of his neck, and then he needed her mouth again.
He needed a hell of a lot more than that, but her mouth was what he could have.
Down boy.
His dick settled, but didn’t lie down. Nathan slowed himself, pausing between kisses to tell her how good she smelled and felt and tasted. And she gave back as good as she got, whispering stuff he didn’t need but still liked to hear. How big his arms were, shit like that. What he liked most was the warm string of barely restrained happiness that ran through all her murmured words.
“Is Betty hiding somewhere indecent?” she whispered against his ear, her tongue tracing the outer cartilage as he laughed against her.
“No.”
She peeked down the front of his shirt, humming in an appreciative way that he appreciated when sh
e saw the big tribal tattoo he had on his right pec.
“Not there,” she said huskily.
“Nope.”
“That’s nice, though.” She drew a small circle on the skin just below his collarbone with her fingertip, and he wanted to yank his shirt off and press her cool little hands all over his skin. He felt feverish and heading towards frustration, which wasn’t fair. They were in a hallway in an airport. Total strangers. This had to be enough.
He swallowed hard. “Glad you approve.”
“I bet it tastes good.”
“Seriously, where is a private room when I need one?” He hugged her tight as she laughed. “Betty’s on my back. My left shoulder blade.”
“Turn around, I want to see it.”
Emme traced the black-ink tat of a winking Betty Boop curled up on a motorcycle. “She’s not what I was expecting.”
“Better than it could have been, I suppose.”
“Can I ask why… ?”
His laugh rumbled beneath her hand. “Sure.”
She waited a minute, filling the silence with a gratuitous feeling-up of his impressive back muscles. After outlining a long, white scar that made her wonder what part of the Navy he was in, she dove back into the conversation. “I think that was your opening to tell me more.”
“But I like it when you pull the details out of me. Makes me feel better about being so curious about you.”
Emme leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his back before smoothing his shirt into place. She didn’t miss the shiver and faint groan. She felt it, too. Terrible timing. But she owed him an explanation, this sailor with the broad shoulders and kind eyes.
She wrapped her arms around him from the back and turned her face to the side, resting her cheek against his shoulder blade. “My ex-husband is a pilot. A big presence in my life, still, because we work together. And a philanderer, although I like the term ‘cheating scumbag’ better. Has a more honest ring to it.”
Inside the circle of her arms, muscles tensed, ready for a fight against an unknown opponent. In that moment, she loved this stranger for his unexpected kindness.