Resisting Mr. Kane (London Mister #2)(74)

Fuck.

The men stop outside the last helicopter in the bay.

“Tristan, you didn’t tell me you were flying us.” I swallow nervously.

His eyes crinkle in amusement. “I’m sorry, darling. I assumed you knew.”

Bit of a leap there. “What do you need to do to get a helicopter licence?” I ask with a rigid smile.

“I thought you’d like to sit beside me.” He opens the passenger door and returns me an easy grin. “Forty-five hours of flight training, including ten hours solo.”

“Uh-huh.” I wet my lips. He better have been top of the class. “How many solo hours have you done?”

“Ten hours and five minutes.”

My lips thin into a painful line.

“He’s messing with you.” Danny chuckles. “You need to do over sixty hours to be able to fly at night.”

“I’m not in the right frame of mind for wisecracks,” I mutter as Tristan wraps his hands around my waist and lifts me up into the passenger seat.

The other three climb into their seats, clearly more relaxed than me, and the doors shut with an almighty bang. Danny even cracks open a beer.

“Would you like one, Elly?”

Hell, yeah. I take the beer gratefully. I could do with something stronger like a general anaesthesia but I’ll settle.

He goes to pass a beer to Tristan and my mouth hangs open. “What? Seriously you can’t—”

“I’m joking.” Danny winks. “It’s okay, Elly, you’re in good hands.”

“Don’t tease her.” Charlie scowls. “I was the same on my first trip with Danny.” She pats my shoulder reassuringly.

Tristan leans over and tightens the seatbelt straps around me then buckles me in. “Have you been in a helicopter before?”

“No,” I squeak.

“After this flight you’ll never want to travel any other way,” he says, fixing the headset on my ears. “You won’t be able to hear me until I turn these on.”

He fastens his seatbelt. I watch him flipping switches and other things with shiny lights in the cockpit. Holding my breath, I crush my knees into the window terrified I’ll hit a gear stick or whatever the hell puts a helicopter into reverse.

The rotor blades start turning above us. I feel it in my stomach. It’s so loud. We sound like we're going to explode. Tristan appears to be having a casual chat with someone through his headset but we don’t move. The build-up is killing me. His Porshe does zero to ninety in nanoseconds and this thing will be on the ground all night trying to take off. There’s no happy medium. Like sex with my ex, John.

Then finally, after what seems like decades, we lift off with a slight wobble and are airborne. The rotor blades are silenced as my noise-cancelling headset magically turns on.

Either that, or I’m dead and don’t realise it.

I close my eyes and try to mentally push my stomach back down my throat. It takes a good minute or two to overcome the unnerving feeling of weightlessness

“Open your eyes, sweetheart.” The deep baritone feels like it’s coming from the depths of my mind. A disembodied voice that can hear my thoughts.

I look over and he casts a smile in my direction.

“We are travelling at 1,000 feet above ground,” his voice says in both my ears.

I let out the breath I was holding and take in the multicoloured London skyline with lights from the Shard and other monuments in the sky. It really is spectacular. I wish I had my camera with the good night vision with me.

“Enjoy the view, Elly.” He sounds even deeper and sexier through the headset. I don’t know if it’s the adrenaline rush, or the fact my life is in his hands or the fact that he looks so damn sexy with his hand on that control but a sudden and severe bout of horniness hits. I must be ovulating.

“You know you sound like you’re inside my head now.” I let out a breath. “Can you hear all my dirty thoughts? You look so sexy flying this thing. Like a sexy superman.”

“We can all hear your dirty thoughts, Elly,” Charlie's voice booms in my head.

I slap a hand to my mouth. Duh. “Sorry!” I say bashfully as Tristan flashes a smug grin at me.

We leave London behind, the sky grows darker and before I can finish my beer, Tristan informs us that we are landing in the designated heliport outside Cardiff. Maybe I could get used to this.

“We’re taking this route because of air traffic control,” Tristan explains.

I nod. Does he think I know if we are taking a wrong turn, for fuck’s sake?

We land at a helipad ten miles from my village, which I never knew existed, because why would I?

I’m buzzing from the trip but also because I booked the cottage for the four of us to stay in. I couldn’t believe it when I saw they had turned my favourite cottage into a holiday home.

I’ll finally get to see what it looks like on the inside.

It’s 10 p.m. before we arrive at the cottage. I message Mum to say I’ve arrived. The cottage is as picture perfect as I imagined with its exposed beams, big stone walls and cookstove in the middle of the living room. But I can’t enjoy the cottage until I sort out Mum’s window and make sure she’s okay. Maybe I’ll even ask her to stay here. Then tomorrow, I’ll think of a plan to appease Barry’s brick-slinging son.