Fly With Me (Wild Aces #1)(7)

“I’m guessing this fighter pilot thing gets you laid pretty often.”

God, I hoped it did the trick now. “It has its moments.”

Her brow rose, her voice taking on a distinctive purr. “And you think this is going to be one of those moments?”

I held her gaze, going for honesty when bravado failed me. “You tell me.”



JORDAN

The impulse to tell him that he was definitely getting lucky was on the tip of my tongue. We were both adults, and it didn’t need to be said that obviously we wanted each other. I could climb off his lap, hold out my hand to him, and go upstairs for what I predicted would be a pretty f*cking amazing orgasm.

He’d leave me with a hot vacation memory and a story about the time I banged the fighter pilot in Vegas. And likely, I’d be another girl he hooked up with once, maybe even a repeat performance if his body lived up to the packaging.

It wouldn’t be a bad ending to the night. I’d had some pretty decent one-night stands, and the odds that this one would jump to the top of the list were pretty high given how turned on I was. I wasn’t looking for a relationship with a guy who lived across the country, and I definitely wasn’t looking for a relationship with a guy who probably took thrill seeking to extremes.

But ever since I’d seen that flash of cocky, ever since the attraction between us had ratcheted up a notch, the urge to make him work for it had become undeniable.

Because maybe, in some slightly confused part of me, I was curious to see where this was going. I hadn’t been looking for anything but fun, definitely didn’t need complicated, but . . .

I leaned back slightly, my gaze searching his, my body and mind warring with each other until the decision was made.

I’d had a lot of guys in my fifteen-plus years of dating. There were guys who were fun, the kind of guys who were great for a casual hook-up, a quick and easy orgasm. Then there were the guys who had your mother proclaiming things like, He’s a doctor, and He loves kids, and He just bought a lovely three-bedroom house, to all of her friends. The ones you took to your high school reunion. The guys that someone, somewhere, arbitrarily decided were a “catch.”

And then there was the urban legend, Chupacabra-like myth of a man who would f*ck you up against a wall while he pulled your hair and then spoon you to sleep after. The guy who would bring you breakfast in bed with an orgasm on the side. The kind of guy who was so masculine that he could get you pregnant just by looking at you.

I’d spent years searching for that guy, only to come up with dud after dud. But this guy? This guy just might be the Bigfoot of the dating world, and everyone knew you did not f*ck around with that kind of possibility.

If he was an urban legend, then I needed to make myself one, too—

The Girl Who Does Not Fall for Hot Sexy Fighter Pilots Who Smell Great and Have Nice Voices . . . on the first night, at least. No need to get crazy.

I leaned forward, my body giving a little happy cheer. I kissed him, my fingers threading through his hair, my lips devouring his. And then I pulled back.

His lips were swollen from my kisses, his eyes dark.

“It was nice to meet you, Noah.”

He gave me a rueful grin. “Crash and burn, huh?”

I laughed at the Top Gun joke. He was definitely more than a pretty face and lickable biceps.

“We’ll see how you do tomorrow.”

His eyes glinted and I had a sneak peek of how lethal he must be.

“You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”

I grinned, my mouth brushing against his again.

“Now where’s the fun in that?”

I wiggled out of his lap, my body getting a pretty good idea of how badly he wanted me.

I stood and tossed a look over my shoulder, and then I was walking out of the bar, knowing full well that his eyes were on me the entire time.





THREE




JORDAN

“Are you nuts?”

The words would have been delivered with a shriek if Meg had been slightly less hungover. Instead, they came out with a croak and a wince, as though even that was too much for her.

I grinned, handing over the bottle of pain relievers. “Not the last time I checked.”

“He was hot. Really, really hot.” She fumbled with the cap until finally I took pity on her and opened it myself.

“He was.”

She tossed me a grateful look and swallowed two pills with the big bottle of water next to our lounge chairs.

“So that’s it?”

“No, the ball’s in his court now. He knows I’m interested.”

“But if you were interested, why didn’t you go back to his room? You should have seen him after you left. He looked like a kid who’d just had his ice cream cone taken away from him.”

I couldn’t help smiling at that visual. Some guys would have gone out in search of another girl to take back to their room. The fact that he hadn’t bumped him up majorly in my estimation.

I didn’t bother explaining my Chupacabra theory. Meg would likely think I was crazier than she already did. She’d started dating her fiancé, Mike, her freshman year of college and they’d been together ever since. She hadn’t braved the dating gauntlet and she didn’t understand that it was a freaking war zone out there; a girl needed every advantage she could get.