Wingman

by Emmy Curtis

  Her back arched against the pressure of his lips and teeth on her neck. And then she stiffened. He pulled back immediately. Sanity rushed into his head.

  “Fuck,” he said, rolling her off him and staring at the ceiling light. “I’m sorry. I just—I don’t have an excuse. It shouldn’t have happened, and I apologize.” His chest heaved under the intensity of the kiss and the immense feat of willpower it had taken to push her away.

  She took a breath, and he turned his head to hear what she had to say. But she just stared at him before getting up and running to the locker room.

  Fuck. What had he done? He lay there, wondering what the fuck was going on. The one constant in his life had gone nuts, and then kissed him, and now his whole world had changed. He’d kissed her. Felt her body under his.

  Nothing would be the same now.

  What had she done? Missy had run back to the barracks and stepped into the shower as if the water could wash away what she’d just done. She’d fucking kissed him. It felt like some kind of self-betrayal.

  It was so confusing. Kissing him was…It had scared her. She’d never seen him lose control like that. Never witnessed him act on anything other than precision and professionalism. But it was bad. Bad that she’d liked it so much. Bad that she hadn’t wanted it to stop. The one thing that had stopped her was her realization that in all the years they’d flown together, he totally considered her a sidekick. There only to make him look good, to make his life easier.

  And as she realized that he only saw her as an extension of him, it was as if a curtain had been parted, shedding light for the first time into a dusty room. He didn’t know anything about her. He’d never asked her about her family—not that she would ever have wanted to go there—or her friends. He’d never even asked her where she was from, what movies she liked—nothing. He’d never gone out socially with her, and now that she was putting all these things together, she was furious with herself for wasting two years of her life pining for him.

  Assuming no one would match up to the awesomeness that was Conrad. What utter fuckery.

  It was a bitter discovery. Conrad was, and always had been, just about himself.

  And now, goddamn it, she’d betrayed herself in one stupid moment of anger and passion. She winced as she thought the word passion, but that was how she’d always thought about him.

  As for him, he probably just wanted another conquest. Judging by his endless revolving door of women, he probably had a hard-on for every female he came across.

  She’d fucked everything up—but that made her even more determined to move on, to get away from this situation that was fast becoming more and more toxic. The transfer was legit. It was the right thing to do. She couldn’t stay.

  Missy stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her head. Sinking onto the foot of the bed, she touched her lips, where he had touched her with his. They felt…plundered. His kiss, their fight, the feeling of his hardness against her…God, but her libido had kicked in so damned fast.

  Hell, no. She wasn’t Monday-morning-quarterbacking this one. She had to shake it off. Forget it.

  Her phone rang. Conrad. Shit. She took two deep breaths and picked up the call. “Hello?” She was proud of how even and normal her voice sounded.

  “Hey. Look. Can you come get me before you go back to the hangar? We can talk on the way. We…need to…”

  “Talk?” she said, enjoying his discomfort.

  He sighed. “Yes. We will talk all night about it, because if we have to sleep on those god-awful cots in the hangar, I’m going to make it as uncomfortable and awkward as possible for everyone. Because that’s the way I roll,” he said.

  She laughed. She hated hangar duty, but after the people meddling in there the previous night, she was never going to complain about it again. If she had to sleep in the hangar to make sure her aircraft wasn’t touched by anyone else, then that was what she’d do.

  “Sure. But if you think you’re going to make me feel awkward, you better bring it, because I can tell you about girl stuff that’ll gross you out and make you squirm,” she said. And then she realized that squirm could be taken more than one way. She rolled her eyes at herself in the mirror.

  He sounded as if he were choking down the phone. “Room 2123.”

  “I’ll be there.” She ended the call.

  She slumped back on the bed. At least he’d seemed a little more himself. And she was going to be totally professional too. She was leaving the squadron, and that was it. She didn’t need to feel bad, or explain it to anyone, let alone him. Taking several deep breaths, she relaxed.

  She could forget the kiss, the burning intensity of his gaze. The weight of him on top of her, the way she had involuntarily arched against him. Closing her eyes, she could visualize him. Her body started to replicate the heat and need that had coursed through her when he’d asked her to tell him no. She’d had every intention of saying no, but her mouth and the air in her lungs refused to cooperate. There was no one in the world who could have said no right there and right then. No one. Least of all her.

  But it was a momentary lapse. It was not going to happen again, regardless of how her body had melted into his.

  She was tempted to touch herself. To finish what he’d started. But that was no way to move past it. No way to get over him. No way to make a clean break. And she was determined to get away in one piece.

  She needed a career that wasn’t dependent on the one person who made it impossible to have a personal life. God, she wished there was alcohol in their room. She checked the mini-fridge in case Eleanor had left some. Nope.

  There was nothing else to do but press on, address the “kiss” and get over it. She blew out a puff of air as she chose some clothes to wear for the evening. Yoga pants, a tank top, and a sweatshirt for when it got cold. She bundled her Kindle, phone, and flashlight into a tote and strode out of the room with her shoulders squared and her head up. She was going to face him with no embarrassment and no fear. She had nothing to lose.

  As she left the barracks, Sergeant Cripps was going in. He raised a hand. He opened his mouth to say something, but she interrupted him, knowing full well what he was going to ask.

  “Yup. Absolutely. Colonel Conrad and I are on our way now.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” he replied, holding the door open for her.

  “Have a good eve…night,” she said, casting her gaze to the already darkening sky.

  “You too, ma’am,” he replied.

  “Just how likely do you think that will be?” she asked, thinking about the metal cots the crew put up for the watcher shift.

  “Not too likely, ma’am,” he said with a grin. “We made your beds up for you, though.”

  “Thank you. Now you go have a good time sleeping in your regular comfortable bed and leave me alone to my misery.” She rolled her eyes with a smile and ran down the steps to the street.

  She looked both ways as she crossed the street to the base lodging—essentially a hotel where the senior officers got to stay during Red Flag. As she reached the sidewalk, someone bumped into her. She apologized without seeing who it was, too busy trying to figure out how not to blush when she saw Conrad.

  “No, it’s my bad. Oh, hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?” he said.

  She stopped, jolted out of her thoughts. She turned and saw a man with long hair and really white, perfectly formed teeth—the type that were clearly implants. He held out his hand and automatically she took it. He shook it and grasped her shoulder as he did.

  It was the man who had been in their hangar the previous night. He squeezed her hand hard. “Nice to meet you,” she said, taking her hand and arm back. She fought the impulse to shake her hand to get the feeling back in it. It was a good thing she was wearing a sweatshirt because she was fairly sure that she’d have been skeeved out by him touching her skin.

  “We know each other, right?” he persisted. His tone made her wary for some reason. She listened to her
gut.

  “No, we don’t. I’m sorry—I have to go,” she said, turning away. She ran up the few steps to the hotel and looked back at him. He was still staring at her, but this time he had a phone to his ear. That was…weird.

  She found Conrad’s room and knocked on the door. It opened.

  “Hey. Is it that time already?” Conrad said with an easy smile—almost as if nothing had happened.

  “I guess,” she said, trying hard not to let her gaze skate away from him. She didn’t want to appear shifty or awkward.

  He leaned down to pick up a backpack and turned to the small table to reach for his key card.

  The elevator doors binged as they opened in the middle of the corridor. She looked to see who had gotten off, just so she wouldn’t be looking at Conrad in his faded T-shirt and absurdly well-fitting jeans. The warm, humid mist from the shower he’d obviously just taken emanated from his room, sending his unique scent out into the hallway, almost begging her to step into his lair.

  The man who stepped off the elevator looked the other way down the corridor. It was the guy from outside. Oh God.

  Without thinking, she rushed the few steps into Conrad’s room and closed the door so he wouldn’t see her. In the process, she ran straight into Conrad, almost pushing him off balance.

  He wrapped his arms around her. “Okay, that works too,” he said, regaining his balance from her surprise breach.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  He’d been all set to apologize. To call for calm. To urge her to pretend that kiss had never happened. It was the right thing to do. It was the sane thing to do.

  But she just barreled in, throwing herself at him, and he for one wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Nope. He was going to do something else with that mouth he’d been fantasizing about for years.

  He pulled her closer and put his mouth over hers. As he closed his eyes, he clocked a look of bewilderment on her face, but by the time he’d processed it, he was already kissing her, and nothing short of an act of God was going to stop him.

  She tensed and he summoned all his willpower to step away from her. But she melted against him before he could, touching every part of her to every part of him, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  Yes. He mentally pumped his fist in the air. She wanted him. She wanted him like fuck, man. Everything he’d been longing for, suffering through those lonely nights for, those cold showers…it was all right here, in this room.

  He bent his knees and lifted her off the floor. Her legs wrapped around his waist, but he hesitated before turning to put her on the bed. This was as close to heaven as he could imagine, having her wrapped around him. Heat rose in him, and desire turned his whole world into static, the only clarity being the woman he held.

  He wrapped his arms around her as if he were trying to absorb her into his body. Just for a second he wanted to assimilate, close his eyes and recognize that she was his, that she’d stay with him now, and they’d fly together until they retired.

  He gently bent down and placed her on the bed, not wanting to have her body away from his. She sat on the edge, looking up at him, her brown eyes looking like little eclipsed suns.

  He took off his T-shirt and knelt before her on the floor. He opened his mouth to speak, to ask if she was okay with…whatever was about to happen. But she placed a finger over his lips and shook her head. She didn’t want to have the conversation.

  It was a shame, as her conversation and her fast-as-hell mind always made him slightly dizzy with wanting her. But they could talk later. Would have to talk later.

  She pushed him away and stood. Her eyes firmly on his, she took off her sweatshirt and her black yoga pants.

  His brain became fogged with need as she peeled off her tank top to leave her in peach-colored bra and panties. The shade emphasized her tan skin. He wanted to know when she’d been out in the sun, but his mind had already moved on to the fantasy of her sunbathing in a tiny bikini.

  He crowded her, his leg pressing against hers so she fell backward onto the bed. As she lay there, looking up at him, he undid his pants and slid them off.

  His dick sprang free, and he took pleasure in watching her gaze follow it. Then he climbed onto the bed next to her and kissed her stomach.

  She arched against the touch of his mouth, stretching her arms above her head. He sat up and snaked a hand beneath her, unclipping her bra gratifyingly quickly. She laughed. “Nifty. You’ve done that before.”

  “Beginner’s luck,” he said, trying not to smile.

  She crossed her eyes at him, and he gave in to a laugh. He sat astride her, reveling in the feeling of her soft stomach against his dick. He spanned her rib cage with his hands and stroked them upward, until they were under the silky fabric of her bra.

  Missy’s laugh turned into a moan and his fingers found her nipples. He felt them harden under his fingers and the sensation pushed lava through his veins from his fingertips to his dick. His balls tightened against her. Jesus. Why had he waited so long for this?

  She placed an arm over her eyes as if it were too bright in the room, so he switched off the bedside lamps. Although the sun hadn’t completely set, the room was rendered into darkness.

  With firm hands, she pulled him down on top of her. And then his body was pressed to hers and the world as he perceived it ceased to exist. Thought escaped him as his body and various fantasies took over.

  He swallowed hard against the wave of…something unfamiliar and intense washing over him. Missy was naked, her body pressed against his. He needed to feel her, properly, and he couldn’t while he was on top of her. He shifted off her, pulling her with him, so they lay facing each other. He stroked her back from her neck to her shoulders, her waist, and her ass, reveling in the disbelief and wonder that his hands—his own hands—were actually touching Missy’s naked body.

  Just as he was settling into a haze of need, she pulled away and climbed on top of him. Ahhh Jesus. He wished he’d left the lights on. He’d give a million dollars to be able to see her in full freaking Technicolor, naked and astride him. But instead he allowed his eyes to adjust to the shadows, and used his fingers to feel her soft curves and the firm muscles quivering beneath her tan skin. He longed to feel her wetness against his dick. She shifted her pelvis against him in response, and he wondered if she was reading his mind, as she did when they were on duty.

  A groan shuddered through him as she opened her legs and slicked along his length. She was so hot and wet and soft. She brought her legs up either side of his hips and pressed her wet heat down on his dick. Her eyes closed as she sat upright and slid herself back and forth along his length.

  Then she raised herself off him, causing an unwelcome coolness where her body should have been, and slid her hands over his dick—up and down and in a spiral around the head. He was not going to last worth a damn if she carried on.

  “Condom?” she asked, her hand stilling on him.

  He tried to gather his senses. “Of course.” He pointed to his pilot case and tried to reach it, not wanting Missy to move a fucking inch away from him.

  She stifled a laugh at his expression, which probably had an air of desperation about it, and gave him her hand. “I’ve got it. Anchor me.”

  For a split second he wondered if that was some kind of sex that he’d missed while pining for Missy from afar. Then he realized she just wanted him to hold her hand so she didn’t fall off the bed. He grabbed her hand and she stretched to reach the bag, just being able to drag it toward the bed with her fingertips.

  “We’re a great team,” he said, reaching for the condom.

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he noticed a slight change in her demeanor. He shouldn’t have said that. Wasn’t that what their whole argument had been about?

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m saving that one to kick you with later.”

  Dammit, she always fucking knew what he was thinking. All he wanted to do was lose himself in her again.

/>   “Now, where were we?” she asked as if she were inside his head again. She pulled his dick toward her, until his tip was touching her clit. His eyes widened as he sought to take in this image: Missy, naked, pleasuring herself with his dick. Never had he allowed himself to ever imagine that his fantasies would become real.

  And then she placed him at her entrance and moved her hips around in a circle, allowing less than an inch of him inside her. Instinctively, his hands flew to her hips to try to stop her from teasing him before he’d had a chance to put the condom on. But she cocked a confident smile and continued playing with him. He wasn’t getting enough of her; he wanted to be balls deep in her, feeling every muscle contract around him.

  But also, more than anything, he wanted to see her face when she came. A shot of abject desire stabbed through him, making every muscle in his body contract. He pulled his dick away from her and urged her closer, wanting to make her feel the same need that was pulsing through him.

  His fingers plundered her wetness, touching her clit for the first time, making her gasp. The sounds she made nearly pushed him over the edge. The moans and sighs. If he lived to be a hundred, he would never forget how she sounded.

  He slid his fingers inside her, almost dying at her heat and wetness and the tightness that stretched around them. She rocked against him, and when he curled his fingers inside and stroked her clit with his thumb, she trembled. Her head stretched back and he had her. Her nipples puckered for him as if attached to her clit with an invisible wire. He ached to get his mouth on them, but she was so close to coming, he didn’t want to stop the momentum. He was in a fucking dream.

  She tightened around his fingers, as one last throaty moan filled the room. She came with a rush of loud breaths and spasms, her eyes still closed. He slipped the condom on, and she found his dick immediately, and before he could protest—as if he would—he was inside her. All her heat and wetness surrounded him as she sat firmly down, burying him deep within her.