Fatal Flight

by Madelon Smid

  Adam had learned, though people were attracted to the beautiful planes and daring pilots involved in aeronautical competitions, they didn’t get large crowds at them, because the weather, mechanical delays, and repetition of freestyles dragged them out over a two-week period. Attracting more spectators was in the interest of all the sponsors, as was finding new means of highlighting the competitive events. Social media encouraged this type of coverage, and he hoped they’d collaborate on ideas of how they could make it happen.

  He felt Sky’s gaze on him and turned. Catching her watching him might help him get out of the hot bed of jealousy he’d made up, as he watched so many men vie for her attention. She appeared enmeshed in a discussion with one of the judges. The guy was probably in his seventies and had a paunch and no hair—and his hand on Sky’s shoulder. That did it, with a quick glance at his watch, checking he could justify the call, he decided it was time Sky was home in bed.

  “You wanted an early night,” he cued her, closing in on the two of them.

  Sky looked up at him, a startled light in her eyes, and something else. Dare he think it was lust?

  “Adam, you move like one of those jets you test—swift and stealthy.”

  “It’s after ten. You did ask me to keep this short. Are you ready?”

  “Sure.” She set her glass on a table behind her and moved forward. They wove their way through the crowd, his hand on her bare waist. A man backed into Sky, crushing her slender foot. She gasped as she lost her balance, falling against Adam. He braced her, taking their combined weight on his weak leg, and felt his muscle pull. Biting back an oath at the ripping pain, and hoping he hadn’t undone weeks of physio, he set Sky back on her feet.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked, examining her foot.

  “I’ll live.”

  “Sorry.” The man straightened and grinned at her with the loose lips of a drunk. “Let me make it up to you, pretty lady.” He reached for Sky’s hand.

  She pulled away from his clasp and plowed forward, leaving Adam to follow. “Men,” she bit out. “Why is it every one of you thinks you’re irresistible?” She shuddered. “Just once, I’d like to go somewhere without being hit on.”

  “You can’t blame that on us, but whoever created you. We’re just the poor sods hard-wired to respond to your beauty.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m nothing special. You guys are wired so loosely, if it has breasts you’re locked on.”

  He stopped their forward momentum and half turned her, looking down at the gentle swell of hers and watched with satisfaction as her nipples hardened under his perusal. “Could be right, but you girls have some hardwiring of your own.”

  “It’s the air conditioning,” she muttered.

  “That’s not ice I see in your eyes. It’s the heat of passion. Admit it.”

  She fell quiet the minute they climbed into the limousine. He didn’t push her, sat back, and let his gaze wander over her slender body. He enjoyed the heat of her thigh inches from his, the soft sound of her exhalations, and the gentle lift of her breasts. She swiped her tongue over her lips, as if affected by his lazy gaze.

  He hoped her thoughts were traveling in the same direction as his.

  ****

  “Do you need anything,” Adam asked as they faced each other in the center of the trailer.

  Sky’s faced flushed at the innuendo. Yes, you.

  “Tea, coffee, water?” he continued.

  Her flush became a heated blush, as she realized her mistake. Adam was in perfect host mode.

  “Just a glass of water,” she said, licking lips that had gone dry every time she’d followed his progress around the hospitality suite. She couldn’t keep from tracking him, looking for him over the shoulder of the person with whom she spoke, catching his movement, as he shifted from one group to another. He’d looked so in command, so relaxed, his smile flashing. His interest in the subject under discussion apparent and real, or he moved on. He didn’t do fake, or play games. He had a good sense of humor from the amount of laughter he called up in the groups around him. She liked the ways the lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled and the way his gray eyes danced with mischief sometimes. The other women in the room liked it too. Most of them were tracking him with their eyes as much as Sky. Beverly, in particular, seemed to find a dozen excuses for landing by his side and sticking until Adam sent her on another mission.

  Sky had felt considerable satisfaction, when she recognized his efforts to keep the brunette away from him. She wondered if Bev did.

  But that’s not my problem. This crazy reaction to the man is. Why am I acting like a moonstruck fan around her favorite movie star? Fudge Sunday with peanuts! He might not be as bad as Brian, but he comes from the same background. I swore I’d never let myself get dragged into that world again. But popcorn balls, the guy is sexy. And he kisses like a fallen angel, all the way through to my soul. I’ve got to get over this silliness.

  Adam had taken a tumbler from a cabinet and filled it with iced water from the fridge. “Here’s your water.” He touched the glass against her wrist, when she seemed incapable of grasping it. Setting it on the counter, he lifted her hand. “Are they still bothering you?” He peeled open fingers that had curled at his touch and stroked the scabs.

  She liked the feel of his hands beneath hers, the warmth of his skin, the tenderness of his touch.

  He cleared his throat, stepped aside, and lifted the water glass.

  She rose on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Stop teasing me and kiss me,” she commanded, her lips touching his.

  The water glass crashed onto the counter. A few chilled droplets hit her heated skin. She gasped and then gasped again as Adam’s tongue traced her lips and stroked inside. She pulled her body higher, closer, almost climbed his frame. His arms wrapped around her and eased her against his firm musculature.

  She shuddered, moaned into his mouth, as she discovered the voltage of the attraction between them. Adam’s hands were on the narrow bands of black imprisoning her upper arms. He slid them down, until the front of her dress fell free. She wore no bra because of the backless style. He pulled away, his heavy-lidded gaze tracing her throat and collarbones, drifting across her breasts and zeroing in on her nipples. They were already hard nubbins begging for his attention. He didn’t disappoint, palming her, tweaking the straining tips, sipping at them. She writhed in his embrace, seeking more of the overwhelming pleasure. Her fingers tangled in the silken strands of his coal black hair.

  “Undo the dress,” he husked, his mouth moving between the flushed mounds.

  Sky’s fingers scrambled over the little hook and eye and lowered the short zip down her bottom. The dress slid from her hips and puddled on the floor. She stood in a black thong and silver sandals.

  Adam closed his hands around her arms and drew them down to her wrists; capturing her hands, he held them wide. It reminded Sky of what he’d done after she’d rejected their kiss on the wing of her plane. It was obvious he was thinking of the same thing when he spoke.

  “If this is your idea of climbing to altitude, then bailing, tell me now. I told you before I’m not into those kinds of games.”

  “I want you.” Sky didn’t think adding she didn’t know why, thought she was crazy, and yet couldn’t drown out this burning need to have sex with him would serve her purpose. She didn’t do one-nighters, but that was what this was. She’d only had two partners before—a high school buddy and the man she’d almost married. Neither of them had brought out even a small percentage of the desire she felt for Adam.

  Still holding her wrists away from her body, he searched her eyes, reading her hunger, her commitment. Then he pulled her arms behind her back and brought her against him. Leashing her wrists with one hand, he let his other roam her back and bottom. He closed his eyes and, like a man using Braille, tested the texture of her skin, the shape of her body, the tension in her muscles.

  She watched his face, taking in t
he flush along his high cheekbones, the sable fan of his lashes against his taut skin. His eyes opened, gazed into hers. His pupils were dilated, leaving only a silvered rim of gray. He must have found what he wanted in her eyes. His closed again, and, as his lips took command of hers, she wondered what he’d seen. Then she sank into the kiss, the heated exchange of tongue and breath. He let go of her wrists and backed her toward the sofa at the side of the main room. Lowering her into a nest of cushions, he kicked off his shoes, yanked off his socks, and dropped his jacket. The tie came next, and he started on the buttons of his shirt. Sky moaned as his bronze skin showed through the growing gap. When he cast it aside, she sat up.

  “Let me.” She reached for his waistband, drew him closer, and undid his belt. With trembling fingers, she unhooked his trousers and lowered his zipper. Sliding her hands into the top of the pants and his underwear, she pushed them down his legs. He stepped out and, before she could touch him, lay down beside her.

  “I’m too hot for that kind of love play right now,” he growled against her ear. “I’ve been aroused since I met you. That’s a lot of foreplay. I’ll be lucky if I make it through the first act.”

  “And how many acts are there in this play,” she quipped, tracing his ear with her tongue.

  “I guarantee you three, but I’m going for five.”

  “And you’re so goal oriented, I can’t see you failing.” Her hands stroked down his back, squeezed his glutes.

  “God, Sky, you set me off like a smoker on a stunt plane.” He reached for his trousers, dragged them over, and pulled out his wallet. “Thank God,” he said, as he found a condom. “I wasn’t sure I had one anymore.”

  “One isn’t going to last through a five-act play,” she teased. She’d never had so much fun with a guy.

  “One only has to get me off the couch and you into my bedroom.” He pounced on her then, laying light kisses over her face, avoiding her lips, until she grasped his hair and pulled him down, desperate for the heat of his mouth.

  “Adam,” she incited, her restless body urging him, her legs opening, her damp thong pressing his thigh, as she rubbed against his hard muscles.

  He tore the thong off and flung it aside, bringing his hand to the moist threshold aching for his touch.

  “Oh yes, yes,” she called out, “peanut butter and jelly that feels so good.”

  He chuckled, doubled his efforts, and stretched her wider.

  “I need you…need you…” she wailed like a child. Is that me? How can I say these things, feel these things? God, what is happening to me?

  He entered her, taking his time, making it good, soothing her even as he stimulated her further. All thought was lost in the maelstrom of her response. It was like pulling 5 Gs, rocketing out of the atmosphere into space, losing control as she faced the unknown, exploring a place she’d never been before. Magical, mysterious, frightening, and addictive. She followed where he led. And when they reached the pinnacle together and floated down, she nestled her face into the crook of his neck, and for minutes, felt safer than she ever had before.

  “How did you like act one?” He lifted off her, rose, and disposed of the condom under the sink.

  “It was a great start, but I’m looking forward to the entire production, especially the climax. Is that scene four?”

  “You minx. You’re toying with me.” He bent, his hands sliding under her.

  Before he could straighten, lifting her, she scrambled out of his reach. “Adam, much as I’m sure you’re able and I might like the feel of being carried about, I know you pulled your leg when I fell on you. I felt your reaction. Please don’t injure it any further.” She pushed him back and stood; fetching her water from the counter, she took a long drink. She crooked her finger, giving him a sinful smile. He sauntered behind her into his bedroom, toward the largest bed in the Airstream. His gaze drifted over her with heady appreciation, starting the slow burn in her vitals before she’d even lain down.

  “You’ve piqued my interest. I’m excited for a preview of what else you’ve got.” She stretched out, resting her head on one arm.

  “As long as you know there’s a turning point in act three, and the heroine takes the initiative…”

  When act three came after another passionate session and a short doze in Adam’s arms, she surprised him, and herself. She’d lost something when she’d been with Brian—her confidence and sense of self-worth. Now as she straddled Adam, glorying in her femininity, loving the shudders she drew from his big body, and drawing in the heat firing his beautiful eyes, he helped her get it back. He provided the road map and the terrain, but let her find her own way. It was empowering.

  Chapter Seven

  Sky climbed into the cockpit for her second free-style. She’d received top marks for her compulsory. The points earned in her first free-style had increased her lead on the field. If she did well now, the cup was hers, along with the title of top aeronautic pilot on the American circuit. She wanted the title more than the quarter-million-dollar prize.

  Since she’d first climbed into the cockpit of the Tiger Moth as a young child, she’d bucked the male dominated system, fighting for every bit of air time, opportunity, and respect she’d earned. Winning over three of the top pilots on the international circuit would validate all her hard work and sacrifice. Brian had never understood. He’d wanted a beautiful woman on his arm, an opportunity to preen for the other males in his world of wealth and privilege, where topping each other’s latest acquisition mattered most. But where Brian had watched her get into the cockpit with irritation and petulance on his face, Adam’s expression registered pride and confidence in her.

  “You’ve got this, Sky,” he said, stepping back from the plane and turning as a journalist held a mike out and asked a question.

  Andre sauntered up. He’d already completed his last freestyle and had no more points to gain. He ran his hand over her shoulder, before letting it rest on the edge of the cockpit. “Looks like you have the advantage, cherie, bon fortune.” With a cocky half-salute, he stepped back and wandered toward the spectators. Adam finished with the reporter and turned. His eyes appeared darker than usual, as he looked up at Sky.

  “Fly safely,” he mouthed. His hand stroked the wing of the plane, as if stroking her. She wondered how he felt about his design winning the prestigious competition. He hadn’t made a big deal of his contribution to her success, but always put her front and center with the press.

  “Make sure you double check the clips on your canopy,” his voice whispered in her mind. Losing a canopy was one of the hazards of the sport. He’d checked all the snap locks when they’d done the walk-around earlier, found one that had bent a little which might allow the canopy to open under wind pressure, and taking pliers from her tool kit, straightened it. He’d investigated every part of the Storm he could access, and as the engineer who’d designed her, Sky trusted his ability to find a flaw. Besides, he’d had Greg and a relief guard watching Sky Dancer day and night. She felt safe as she snapped the canopy into place and spoke into her mic, receiving clearance to taxi.

  She climbed high. Flying an easy sequence because she had the win wasn’t her way. She would leave no doubt she was the champion. So, she’d planned a complicated set of maneuvers, including the left pullout of the right spin she’d learned by accident at the air show. Once at altitude, she checked the switches on her smoke producing devices, which Adam had mounted on the underside of the wings on the Storm-2B model. She had red and yellow colors, which vaporized with hot oil and would produce red, yellow, and orange trails at her command. Flicking on the red smoker, she completed a vertical roll on her climbing line, followed by a stall-turn with a rotation at the top. Switching to yellow smoke, she made a half-roll on her descending line, inverted, and climbed for altitude upside down. The design of the Storm allowed her to pull the necessary Gs while in the inverted position, an advantage over many of the other planes.

  At the top of her loop, she hit both smokers
and dropping her nose straight down began her controlled spin, three spins counter-clockwise, the smoke producing three lines of color. She closed on the Earth at a rate of twenty-five hundred feet per minute. Just short of the minimum limit of the invisible air box, she pulled out of the spin with a kick on her left rudder, sliding sideways in a steep bank that stopped her momentum. She’d completed the maneuver precisely, and as it was totally unique, should get close to the maximum ten points for it. Elated, she soared higher, setting up for her last twisting roll.

  As Sky went into the roll, tracing her progress across the sky with her brilliant colors, vapor began pouring into the cabin. She coughed, blinked her stinging eyes, gasping for breath. Sky Dancer wavered, fell out of the roll, plummeting toward earth. Sky couldn’t see, as tears streamed from her eyes, and her lungs burned.

  The cockpit was filled with smoke, and she was losing consciousness, her lungs screaming for oxygen. Knowing she had only one chance, she reached for the snaps on the canopy, flicked the two front ones open. A great gray circle was closing in on her vision. She fought it with all her might, putting the plane in a dive, so the force of the air would tear the canopy off. Please work, she prayed, finding it peculiar her thoughts were on Adam and the grief he’d feel if she died flying his spectacular design.

  With a grinding sound, the front of the canopy lifted an inch. She bent, trying to suck in the narrow stream of fresh air and avoid being hit. The force of air lifted it higher, snapping the other locks. The canopy sailed free.

  Sky soaked the clean air into her lungs, even as she pulled up on Sky Dancer’s nose, leveling out only a few hundred feet over the runway. She knew she was out of the designated flight box, but at the moment, cared only that she was alive. Her eyes streamed, her lungs burned like she’d inhaled acid. The pain was incredible, but she brought Sky Dancer down on the runway with just the merest bobble. When she taxied off the runway, she could see Adam waiting by the hangar, every muscle of his body rigid. She knew if their positions were reversed, she would be desperate to run out and meet the plane, but safety codes did not allow it. She pulled Sky Dancer up and shut her down, realizing her smokers were still on, but long since out of color. It had taken every ounce of her consciousness just to keep from crashing. Adam stepped onto the wing, and hung over the cockpit.