Fly With Me (Wild Aces #1)(26)
I put on the speed breaks to slow the F-16 to a taxiing speed, exiting at the end of the runway, the motions I went through each time I flew nearly as familiar as breathing.
I taxied in to de-arm the jet, maintenance doing a quick check of the systems to make sure it was good to taxi back. I called the ops desk, notifying them of my status, and then I taxied the F-16 until I hit the parking spot and put it in park. I flipped the canopy switch, the canopy rising as I shut down the jet, going through the motions that were rote.
I began unhooking hoses, my com cord. I released my harness, then my lap belt, followed by my seat kit and G-suit. Each movement was a little faster than normal, still methodical but definitely spurred on by my desire to get back to the room. Grabbing my helmet bag from behind the seat, I disconnected the cord from my oxygen mask and removed my helmet, the dry Vegas air hitting my face. I picked up my gear, handing it off to my crew chief, then stuffed my classified materials in my G-suit pocket.
Almost home.
I stood in the cockpit, swinging myself to the canopy rail to avoid standing on the seat. I climbed down the ladder, unhooking my harness, letting the boys breathe, doing my postflight walk-around, running my hands on my jet, stroking the metal. I finished everything up, an edgy energy filling me as I went back to the squadron and rushed through the debrief, struggling to concentrate with the knowledge of what awaited me on the other side.
I went home to the girl waiting for me in bed.
JORDAN
I heard the sound of the key card sliding into the electronic lock, my heart pounding with anticipation.
Noah had to wake up early this morning so we’d gone to bed at 10 p.m. last night. Well, he’d gone to bed. I’d lain awake, a million thoughts running through my mind on loop, struggling to get it together, to figure out how I was going to get on a plane and fly back to Florida leaving all this behind me.
Yeah, I still didn’t have an answer to that one.
I had to get back. My partner, Sophia, was working the store and watching my dog, Lulu, but it was only a temporary arrangement. It wasn’t like I could duck out on my responsibilities. Even if I wanted to.
I’d spent the morning packing, waiting for Noah to come back from his flight before I headed to the airport, and now he was here, and holy hell, I was not prepared for the sight in front of me.
I’d been asleep when he’d gone to work in the morning, so I’d missed the opportunity to see him in a flight suit. Now that I’d made up for that and experienced him in his full glory, I knew it was an image I’d likely never forget.
Noah opened his mouth to speak, staring at me kneeling on the bed, and I held up a hand in the air, cutting him off.
“I’m gonna need you to just stand there for a moment.”
He cocked his head to the side, a gleam entering his gaze.
“You know how guys get off on pictures of topless girls with their legs spread and like a cherry hanging from their mouth?”
His eyes went dark, a delicious tension filling the air around us as he nodded slowly.
“This is my version of a Playboy magazine and you’re basically Miss February.”
Noah’s lips curved. I wasn’t kidding.
I came up on my knees, crawling to the edge of the bed, sinking back on my heels, his body close enough that I could reach out and touch it if I wanted to. Which I didn’t. Not yet, at least. Right now I wanted to burn this image into my brain.
He wore a green flight suit covered in patches and Velcro and all kinds of interesting zippers and pockets that hugged his tall frame in all the right places, his legs seeming longer, his shoulders broader. His sleeves were rolled up to expose tanned, muscular forearms, his wrist adorned with the watch I had previously thought capable of conducting missions to the moon, and now knowing what he did for a living, probably wasn’t that far off.
His feet were covered in rugged green boots, a blue hat in his hand, which I figured was another part of his ensemble. His flight suit was unzipped a bit, exposing a khaki-colored T-shirt underneath, the zipper that ran down the entire front of his flight suit, from neck to crotch, a temptation I couldn’t ignore.
His eyes locked on to me like he was devouring me, even as he stood as I’d asked him, his lips firm, his jaw tight, his hair just a bit messy.
I rose up on my knees, crooking a finger at him, beckoning him closer, my nipples already pebbling with the promise of what was to come.
Noah stalked toward the bed, his gaze intent on me dressed in his T-shirt, which I’d slept in the night before. He stopped so close that our bodies touched and I swayed a bit toward him, unsteady on my knees as I reached out and stroked the patch on his shoulder, a gold leaf-looking object.
“What’s that?”
“Major rank.”
I trailed my hand down to his chest, tracing the stitching on the patch with his name, Noah Miller, and his call sign, Burn. I moved over to his shoulder, to the patch with the lettering that said “Aces Wild” and had a picture of an F-16 on it.
“And this one?”
“Squadron patch. Our squadron is the Wild Aces.”
I touched the patch on his other shoulder, reading the words there.
“This one?”
“It says that I graduated weapons school.” He grinned. “And yes, as much as it pains me to admit it, it is kind of like the Air Force’s version of Top Gun.”
My eyes gleamed. “So you’re kind of a badass.”