Fly With Me (Wild Aces #1)(31)

I cared a lot.

I waited, waited . . . f*ck. We were going to be the last ones off.

It was literally a difference of a few more minutes, but even with the phone sex—which seemed to get better each night—this week had already felt like an eternity. I wanted to see Noah, and considering patience was not a virtue I possessed, I wanted to see him now.

She turned to face me with a conspiratorial smile.

Yes, get off the plane.

“People these days. Everyone’s in a hurry. I’d rather wait until the plane is totally empty. No need to rush and push.”

No. No. No.

I’d had a lifetime of Southern gentility drilled into me, and while a lot of it didn’t take, some of it was inescapable. Like always being polite to strangers.

I flashed her a smile, despite the voice screaming in my head.

Let me off this plane.

I sat patiently, or as patiently as anyone could with their foot tapping a mile a minute, until finally it was our turn, and we were indeed the last ones off the plane.

And then impatience gave way to nerves. Lots and lots of nerves.

What if my memory was better than the reality? What if this was a mistake? What if we didn’t have chemistry this time? What if he wasn’t attracted to me? Did my outfit look okay? Should I have worn my hair up? Did I have too much makeup on? Did I have too little makeup on?

Commence freak-out.

Everything about this was making me a little nuts all of a sudden. I’d flown across the country to see a guy I’d known for, like, three days. And by “known,” really I was talking biblically. I didn’t even know him all that well. And given my track record, the odds of me f*cking this up were not small.

What was I thinking?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I cursed in time with my steps, profanity flitting through my mind each time my sole touched the floor until it became a catchy little tune in my head.

The arrival area loomed closer and closer, and I searched the crowd for Noah, remembering that he’d said he might have to pick me up straight from work, wondering if he was running late . . .

And then I saw him.

Flight suit. Big f*cking smile. Roses. Nerves gone.

I launched myself at him, my purse flailing inelegantly behind me. He didn’t shy away, didn’t act like he was embarrassed to be seen with the girl who had no concern for appropriate behavior. Instead, he caught me mid-laugh, my arms wrapped around his neck as he gripped my waist, hauling me toward him. His mouth came down on mine and my lips parted instantly and then his tongue was inside me and it took every inch of willpower I possessed to keep from hopping up and climbing him like a vine on a wall.

I settled for a kiss.

I had not been wrong. This kiss lived up to every memory of us I had. This kiss was unreal.

We broke apart what felt like minutes later, Noah’s lips swollen, his mouth curved in a satisfied grin. His hand settled just above my ass, possessive, teasing, hot as hell.

He stared down at me, his eyes dancing. “Hey.”

Maybe it was the phone sex, but his voice triggered some feelings in my lady parts.

“Hi.”

We both stood there like idiots, grinning at each other, and then he took my hand and propelled me toward the baggage claim.

“In a hurry?” I called after him, his long strides eating up the carpet.

He flashed me a grin. “You have no idea.”


*



I followed Noah over the threshold, my gaze taking in all the little details, all of the pieces that made up his life.

He lived in a one-story house in a quiet subdivision with brick homes and decent-sized lots. It had a family-friendly vibe to it, which wasn’t what I would have predicted for a single fighter pilot, but it definitely impressed me. I’d seen my share of gross boy apartments, and while his artwork tended to have a single-focus—pretty kick-ass framed photos of planes at various stages of flight—there were no dirty clothes on the floor, no empty beer bottles on end tables.

“Hey, Jordan.”

I spotted Easy sitting on a leather sectional in the family room, watching a movie on a ginormous TV. Noah had mentioned that he owned the house and Easy lived with him.

“Hey.”

Easy rose as I walked toward him, enfolding me in a quick hug. He gestured to a spot on the sectional.

“Sit.”

I kind of wanted to go bone Noah in his bedroom, but Southern manners and all . . .

I sat down, Noah not bothering to cover up the groan that escaped his lips as he sat down next to me, placing my suitcase on the floor.

Easy looked down at my luggage and shot me a teasing grin. “Planning on staying awhile?”

My cheeks flamed. Yes, maybe I had overpacked. It hadn’t been easy deciding what to bring. I had a mixture of sexy dresses that were basically a nuclear arsenal in and of themselves, casual jeans and sweaters that were designed to convey the image that I wasn’t trying too hard or anything, and a fortune in lingerie that was definitely trying too hard, but I was pretty sure Noah would appreciate a hell of a lot . . . if Easy ever let us go.

Noah shot him a look. “Like you don’t spend a f*cking hour getting ready in the morning.”

Easy winked at me. “He’s jealous. He wishes he could be this pretty.”

I snorted. The guy totally owned how full of shit he was. You had to appreciate that, at least.