“Nothing,” he replied, bending down at the bottom of the bed. The sound of a zipper broke the silence, a second later he was ripping open a packet and rolling on a condom. “Why do you think I left to get my bag before?”
Sam smiled. “Clever man.”
His eyes gleamed. “Let me show you how clever.” Twisting her around so her head was toward the bottom of the bed, he knelt between her legs, dipping down to kiss a path up her body, lingering on each breast, nipping, tugging, sucking until she squirmed. He released her nipple to capture her mouth, but only long enough to make her mildly breathless before nuzzling her neck, finding the blissful spot behind her ear. Bugger. As his tongue and lips tormented, making her squirm, his hand traveled south, cupping her mound, finger sinking inside then back out in an upward motion.
She moaned. Oh, the man was clever as hell. She liked clever. She loved clever. He drew back, staring into her eyes while he held her hips and slowly entered. Another moan left her lips, this time mingling with his deep, guttural groan.
“You feel so damn good, Samantha,” he said, placing a hand on either side of her head, leaning down for a kiss. “I could stay here forever.”
She held his face and smiled. “Then let’s.”
He laughed softly against her mouth, teasing her lips with his tongue, while his hips adopted a slow, erotic rhythm. She ran her hands over his back and sides, delighting in his heat. The man was on fire and she was, too. He released her lips and gathered her with him as he sat back on his knees, their connection constant. The position had him filling her so completely she clutched the headboard behind him and gasped.
“God, you feel so good around me, Samantha,” he said again, one hand cupping her ass cheek, the other up around her back, holding her head as he kissed her neck.
She rocked into him, wrenching a groan from his throat as he began to move inside her. Arching with the rhythm, she closed her eyes and held onto the headboard, delicious sensations rippling through her as her nipples brushed his chest with each thrust of his hips. Never had she felt so connected before.
Eyes fluttering open, she looked into his and forgot how to breathe. He was so handsome. So perfect. Hers. She lifted up and settled back down on him again, eliciting that very male sound from him she’d grown addicted to. Her body throbbed in response. He captured her mouth and thrust deep, stroking her lower spine as he increased the rhythm.
The wave began to build, heating, consuming at a rapid pace. He broke the kiss, face taut, breathing heavy as he held her gaze. With both arms around her, hands on her bottom, he kept moving and driving, increasing the blaze until her climax hit with shuddering force, his name leaving her lips in a long, drawn out breath. A second later, he tensed, coming with her, thrusting deep, crushing her close until he was empty.
Forehead to forehead, they remained locked together, catching their breath, aftershocks shuddering through them.
No wonder she had always been drawn to her grandfather’s stories. Drawn to the past. Drawn to the South Pacific. Part of her was missing. A big part. She glanced at the incredible man holding her tight.
The best part.
Chapter 14
Life was good.
Over the next several days, her captive hero settled in, and Sam experienced her own little version of heaven. Tomorrow, she was due on base, and for the first time—ever—she didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to leave Mitch. The man was strong and competent, thoughtful and giving, and he carried those same attributes into their bed. Within two days, they’d kicked their box of condoms and had to venture out for more.
They bought a bigger box.
Her ace was a quick learner, too. Maybe it was the engineer mind of his, but he picked up the concept of the PC and was surfing the net within twenty minutes, jumpstarting his daily history lessons. He was currently up to the Korean Conflict.
No doubt the engineering degree also helped him to understand and operate the microwave and dishwasher. Of course, taking them apart and putting them back together had helped too. And there wasn’t even a spare part left.
“My mother and sister would’ve loved this around the holidays,” he’d told her as they loaded the supper dishes the other night.
She was hoping he would’ve opened up more and elaborated on his family, but given the circumstances, she didn’t push. The time jump put him well out of his mother’s lifetime, and she was hesitant to ask about his sister. From what Sam could recall, her grandfather hadn’t mentioned the squad’s family history, just their fighting one. She wasn’t exactly sure just who Mitch had left behind.
“You ready for your dad’s birthday party?” he asked, coming out of the bathroom in a pair of hip-hugging jeans and a lightly striped, dusty green, button-down shirt. He stopped short, an appreciative gleam entering his eyes as he took in her above-the-knee, chocolate brown, suede dress. “You look terrific.”
She felt her cheeks heat. “Thank you.”
His gaze slowly traveled down her body, lingering on her legs. “Damn, you have one hell of a pair of gams on you.”
The ‘40’s lingo he used never ceased to make her smile. “Thanks,” she said again, doing some admiring of her own.
The color of his shirt made his gorgeous eyes really pop. Her pulse, too. He looked good enough to eat. Twice. She walked over to him and made a pretense of fixing his collar just so she could touch him.
“You look great in green.”
“Yeah?” His hands settled possessively on her hips. “It’s my new favorite color.”
“I gathered that when we went shopping the other day,” she said with a grin. “Most of the shirts you chose were green.”
He stiffened. “You’re the one who insisted I get clothes.”
Okay, not at all what she’d meant. “Because you needed some,” she said, gently.
“I could’ve made due until I got paid.” Releasing her, he walked across the room, shoulders stiff, mouth tight.
Yesterday had been his first day helping out at the airport. Jensen said Mitch had a great grasp on mechanics, then proceeded, in typical SEAL manor, to question her and Mitch’s about the Marine’s background.
So she enlightened him…once he’d promised not to tell a living soul.
She was mildly surprised when the Navy man didn’t laugh or call her crazy. In fact, he seemed to take it in his stride, even opening up a little and comparing a few war stories with Mitch. Sam knew then and there, putting those two together was not only going to keep the planes in tip-top shape, it was going to unknowingly help both men’s psyche.
Therapy without a therapist.
“What I had was good enough until then,” Mitch insisted, turning around to face her.
She blinked, trying to get her mind back on track.
“But why?” Payday was bi-weekly, and he’d started on the off week. She didn’t want to be running the washer every other day, and there was no way in hell she’d let him wreck his uniform. “There really was no need, Mitch. I have plenty of mon—”
He cut her off with a curse, thrusting a hand through his hair. “That’s not the point.”
She shook her head. “Jeez, your generation sure produced a lot of proud men.” The words left her lips before she could stop them.
“You call it pride,” Mitch said. “I call it taking responsibility for my own debts.”
Sam walked to him and gently caught his rigid chin between her finger and thumb. “And you will. I told you, like you wanted, it was just a loan.”
His gaze began to soften, and his hands were once again on her hips. “I know. I’m sorry, Samantha. I just don’t like feeling like I’m being kept.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Captain.” Linking her hands behind his neck, she brushed against him and smiled. “I seem to recall there were several times in the cabin when you didn’t mind at all.”
He chuckled and crushed her close. “Well now, that was entirely different, Captain,” he proclaimed before capturing her mouth and kissing h
er until she didn’t know up from down. When he drew back, he turned her around to face the mirror attached to her dresser. “This is why green is my new favorite color.”
Her flushed reflection stared back.
“Your eyes glow like two big beautiful emeralds when you’re turned on,” he said, pushing her hair aside to kiss her neck. “Samantha?”
“Hmm?” Shiver after shiver raced each other down her back and arm.
“Do you think the others will be mad if we’re a little late?”
She reached behind to grab his hips and rubbed his bulging crotch with her backside. “No. But I would be if we’re not.”
***
An hour and a half later, they were eating cake and drinking a toast to her father at a local pub when Harry, SC Charter’s other pilot walked in.
“Hey, everyone. Sorry I’m late,” Harry said, pulling up a chair next to her dad. “The Fosters decided to delay their Aspen departure for an hour, which put us last in the rotation.”
Her father slapped the older man on the back. “No problem, Harry. We’ve all been there. Have a beer,” he said, pouring the frazzled man a drink, while Jenny pushed a slice of cake his way.
“Thanks,” he said, before nodding toward her and Mitch. “Did you tell them yet?”
She frowned, looking from her father to her brother and back again. Her pulse hiccupped. Crap. What’s wrong? “Tell us what?”
“Well, we think it’d be a good idea if Mitch started to ride shotgun with Harry,” her brother replied. “Not actually piloting mind you, but you know, observing.”
“That is, if you want to,” her father added, staring at Mitch.
“Absolutely,” he replied with an eager smile, leaning closer. “How soon can we start?”
Everyone laughed.
“How about Sunday?” her father replied.
“Yeah, I’ve got another Aspen run Sunday morning.” Harry nodded, setting his beer on the table. “Departure’s at ten, so meet me at eight and we’ll go over pre-flight.”
“Sounds good.” Mitch returned the nod, then looked at her dad. “Thank you.”
Her brother leaned forward. “Once your paperwork’s taken care of, and we get you up to speed and licensed, we’re going to run you ragged.”
“I look forward to it.” Mitch grinned.
“Well, Mitch,” Jensen spoke up, having sat there silently most of the night. “I sure hate to lose you. With your talent and the way you catch on so fast, you’ve been a big help.”
“No problem,” her father said. “If Mitch wants, he can work with you and fly with Harry in between.”
“Works for me,” Harry said.
“Me too,” Mitch agreed.
She looked at Mitch and noted happiness lighting his eyes. Her heart leapt, knocking some of the invisible weight off her shoulders. Maybe he wasn’t going to have such a hard time fitting into this century after all. She squeezed his knee. “I think it’s a great idea.”
The next half-hour produced several toasts to her father, a few for Mitch and his new venture and even one for her and her upcoming secret flying mission as her brother always called her assignments.
“You know, sis, Jenny could use some help in the office. Maybe this time you can bring back a bookkeeper,” her brother teased.
Everyone laughed, even Harry, despite the fact he didn’t understand the joke.
The conversation turned to local events, and she sat back enjoying the easy banter, leaning slightly against Mitch when she felt every muscle in his body stiffen at once.
She glanced at him and her heart rolled in her chest. He was pale, eyes dark and full of something she’d never seen in them before…hatred. Even when he’d thought she was a German spy his expression had never been this cold. She followed his gaze to a bunch of Asian tourists in cowboy hats walking to a corner booth. Her hand found his fisted and shaking under the table.
“Hey, Mitch…” She squeezed and spoke softly, not wanting to draw attention as the conversation went on around them.
No response.
She crooked a finger under his chin and forced him to break eye-contact with the jovial group. “Mitch, look at me. It’s okay.”
He blinked and focused on her.
“The war’s over. It’s okay.”
Blowing out a breath, he nodded and slowly unclenched his fist. “I know.” He reached for his beer and downed half.
After five minutes of joining the banter and pretending an interest, she decided they’d been there long enough and could call it a night without seeming rude.
As the others bid them farewell, Sam slipped her arm around Mitch’s waist, and took her hero home, a sneaky feeling sinking deep in her gut he wasn’t adjusting to this century as well as he’d like her to believe.
***
The day dawned just like the last few, beautiful, clear and bright. So why did Mitch feel like shit? Because in the short amount of time he’d been in the twenty-first century, he’d grown accustomed to going to bed and waking up with Samantha in his arms, and the past week and a half, his bed had been cold and empty. Like his heart.
Cripes. If the Black Sheep could hear his thoughts they’d label him a fuckin’ pansy, again. And they’d be right.
Oddly enough, he didn’t care. He felt empty without the feisty, green-eyed woman. There was something to the saying absence makes the heart grow fonder. Mitch knew he’d miss Samantha, he just hadn’t realized to what extent. Sure, he was happy and content working on the airplanes and choppers. When he was in the air with Harry, Mitch’s world almost seemed on the right axis. But then they’d land, and he’d go to a quiet loft and feel Samantha’s absence to his very core.
Christ. He threw the covers off, feet slapping the floor when he sat up. A nervous energy tingled through his veins. He thrust a hand through his hair and inhaled deep. Something was going to happen today. He didn’t know what but…
The sound of the phone ringing split the silence and rocked his heart. “Shit.” He reached for the company cell phone Samantha had given him before she left and his pulse rate increased. It was her.
“Hello?”
“Hey, handsome.”
He closed his eyes and smiled. God, it was great to hear her soft, sexy voice.
“Hey, beautiful.”
“I miss you,” she said in a hushed tone. “Listen, I can’t talk long. I just wanted you to know I’m coming home tomorrow.”
His smile widened. “Tomorrow? That’s terrific.”
“I know. I can’t wait! Okay…Shoot. I’ve got to go. See you tomorrow. Stay safe.”
The line went dead before he could reply.
One thing was certain, today was definitely not the same as the past few. Mitch hung up the phone and smiled. Today was the day before Samantha came home.
Eight hours later, Mitch was standing with Harry in Aspen, watching passengers board their plane for the flight back to Telluride. All the travelers were new. None had been on the flight up that morning. Rosy cheeks gave away the skiers. There were three. That left an older couple and a young mother and her toddler daughter. The little girl couldn’t have been any older than Carson. She held her mother’s hand and clutched a bright orange, stuffed cat with wings.
Mitch knelt down and smiled. “What a fine looking cat.”
“His name’s Mitchell. He’s my guardian angel cat.” Her little chin lifted, blonde hair swinging past her shoulders, big blue eyes warm and bright. “My Uncle gave him to me. He’s a pilot like you.”
“Is he now?”
“Yes.” She nodded happily. “He said Mitchell would keep me safe.”
Harry patted Mitch on the shoulder as he smiled down at the little girl. “Well then, you’re in for extra good luck, because that happens to be his name, too.”
“For real?” Those trusting blue eyes widened on him.
He purposely kept the threatening smile from his lips. “For real.”
The young mother glanced at his name tag,
gave a grateful nod and turned to her daughter. “See, Halie? We’re in good hands.”
As he watched the little girl and her mother board the plane, Mitch thought it was kind of cute he had the same name as the toy. Thirty minutes later, three quarters into their flight, he thought about the name again when Harry suddenly grabbed Mitch’s arm, his face ashen.
“I don’t feel so…good. My…chest hurts,” the older man said, his breathing labored. “You’d better…fly.”
Quickly routing the controls to his side, Mitch took over flying with ease. There was no time to worry about legalities. He’d watched Harry enough and had actually logged in some flight time with both Ed and Brian the past week. Piloting the new-fangled craft was not a concern. Harry was. A sheen of sweat now covered the man’s brow. The older pilot was showing definitive signs of a heart attack, and they were still eight minutes from the airport. Having flown this route nearly two dozen times in the last ten days with Harry, Mitch knew SC Charters was the closet airport, given their current location. No need to divert course.
“It’s okay. I got it now,” he told the man who was reaching toward the controls.
“I need…to tell…”
Mitch gently shoved the man back in his seat. “You need to breath normal, lie still and restrict your movements,” he recited verbatim the very instruction Harry had given four days ago should Mitch ever encounter a passenger having a heart attack.
Who knew he’d actually be using it on Harry? Keeping his thoughts and actions calm, he contacted the airport and apprised them of the situation.
“Okay, Ed’s called 911,” he reassured Harry. “The ambulance will meet us on the ground, so, just relax. How’s the pain?”
“Getting…worse.”
“Are you on any medication?”
“N-no.”
“Can you take aspirin?” he asked through Ed’s prompting in his ear.
“Yes, but I…don’t have…any.”
Mitch was going to have to ask the passengers, which meant possibly alerting them to the problem. He didn’t want to scare the little girl, but studying Harry, and taking in the man’s shallow breathing, Mitch didn’t have a choice. He flipped the intercom switch.
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