Authors: Katie Porter
The woman who’d dined with Ryan at the restaurant strolled in. Pieces clicked together for Cass. This was the friend he’d slept with. She looked like a ballet dancer who’d suited up for air combat by mistake—an analogy that got her thinking. Had he asked past girlfriends to dress up? The thought of him playing the same sort of games with this woman was, inexplicably, harder to bear than just knowing they’d had sex.
Thrusting her junior-high jealousy aside, Cass offered her hand. “Wow,” she said involuntarily, taking in Leah’s flight suit.
Grinning, the woman smoothed a tiny wisp of hair at her temple. The rest was twisted into a tight bun at the back of her head. She pushed her ID card through the slot and smiled at Cass while the clerk scanned it. “Hot shit, isn’t it? I’m Leah.”
“Ryan’s mentioned you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, great. Probably something about how I’m blind to the virtues of Perrier. C’mon, let’s get out of here. See ya, Hanson,” she called to the man behind the desk.
“Later, Princess.”
“Bite me, Hanson.”
“Princess?” Cass asked as they stepped out of the office.
“My name’s Leah, so my call sign has always been Princess.
Please
don’t give me any shit about it. The guys ration it out pretty thick.”
“Won’t say a word.”
“You know, I can’t remember Ryan ever having a girl come out here.”
Cass’s heart thunked a hard double beat. “I don’t know what to make of that.”
“Yeah, damn. Guess not. I mean, he could keep a harem on base. Not that he does.” Leah shrugged. “Never mind.”
They walked for what seemed like an hour, but it wasn’t nearly so long—just a lot to take in. Cass couldn’t get over the activity. An array of military vehicles and uniforms made it seem as if she’d stepped into an entirely different universe. A ten-foot-tall, camouflage-painted truck rumbled by. She felt terribly conspicuous in her modest business suit, which she’d worn especially for her conversation with Mr. Talbert. There at the gallery, she’d been in her element—no matter her nerves.
Here her element was nowhere to be seen.
For the first time, the reality of what Ryan did for a living hit her square between the eyes. He was a combat pilot. The men and women surrounding her on that busy Air Force base were trained for war. She shivered even under the blazing Nevada sun.
“First time?” Leah asked.
“That’s right. It’s a little overwhelming.”
“Or dull as dirt. I’ve been here…two years? I’m screaming bored of it.” She pointed to various features as she rattled them off. “Mess, clinic, BX, and way over there’s the airfield. If Ryan has time, he’ll be sure to want to show off his plane, so be prepared.”
“Thanks.”
“Through here.”
Leah led her past an aircraft hangar where, through giant doors, Cass saw technicians working on fighter jets, just as mechanics would work on her cheap Honda. Only these were million-dollar war machines. That Ryan, a guy she’d met at the restaurant, could be so important to such a huge operation was really humbling. Next door was an office building that seemed insignificant by comparision.
Into the foyer and past a chest-high desk, Leah waved to the young airman sitting there. The tiled hallway was practically antiseptic, but it rang with the power of a masculine tirade. The voice was terse, clipped and seriously ticked off.
“Whoa, damn,” Leah said, grabbing Cass’s arm. “He’s not done yet.”
“Who?”
“Fang. Ryan. He’s ripping some boys a new one. Come on.” She motioned for Cass to follow, backing down the hallway to the entryway.
The other man from that first night at Blakely’s was leaning casually against a display cabinet filled with military memorabilia. A mortar shell. A model jet. Plus two folded American flags that made Cass’s heart clench.
“Here for the show?” the guy asked.
“Shut up, dickweed. I thought he’d be finished by now.”
“Just about.”
“You remember Cassandra, by the way.”
“Hey,” Jon said with a nod. “Captain Carlisle. Call me Jon.”
Although he seemed to be flipping through a chart on a clipboard, he flicked his eyes back down the hallway. The door to the office was closed, but the thin walls didn’t keep sound in well.
Leah had been right. That was Ryan’s voice. He was genuinely upset. A shiver skittered down her spine. Who would’ve thought that the man who’d licked sugar crystals off her lips was capable of such a temper?
No,
temper
wasn’t the right word. More like
intensity
. He didn’t have an out-of-control mania, like Jack Nicholson in
The Shining
, all batshit crazy. The control in his voice was nearly as intimidating as his anger.
“What happened?” Cass asked, unable to hold back her curiosity.
Leah leaned closer. “They dropped below the hard deck for the flight. It’s dangerous and stupid. People get killed that way.”
“Bottom line, they broke the rules,” Jon said with a naughty smile. “Fang doesn’t take too kindly.”
Cass didn’t know whether to find the guy strangely creepy…or kinda like him. He was probably her age, maybe mid-twenties, which didn’t seem to fit his rank and duties. He had a truly disarming smile, complete with matched dimples—not adorable like Ryan’s, but the kind that could charm snakes.
“So what’s your call sign, then?” she asked.
“Tin Tin.”
“What, like the dog? Rin Tin Tin?”
“For my unerring loyalty,” he said with a broad smile.
Leah snorted. “You are so full of crap.”
Cass couldn’t help but grin at the two, but again her attention returned to Ryan. He was standing in the doorway now, his back to the hangar. “If I see any of you before oh six hundred tomorrow, I’ll have you lined up and shot. Understood? Now get out of my sight.”
Three men in unfamiliar uniforms hurried out of the office, straining to hold on to their composure.
Ryan turned. He stood watching them go, his hands braced on the doorway.
Swallowing hard, Cass couldn’t take her eyes off him. The dress uniform had been one thing, so handsome and clean-cut. Plus, she’d assumed it was a costume. This…this was the real deal. Between the rugged utility of the flight suit and the lingering surprise of Ryan’s angered tirade, she found herself fighting a surge of mindless arousal.
Good gravy. She was getting turned on by her polite, All-American boy going full-on thug.
“Yo, Fang,” Jon called, shoving the clipboard under his arm. He hooked a thumb toward Cass. “Your lady fair.”
Ryan’s eyes lost their hazy wildness. That tense, tight expression eased. His gaze met Cass’s and he smiled. Just like that, he was back to being him.
Wow. Gentleman
and
prize fighter. A rhythmic pulse in her belly expanded. Into her muscles. Through her veins. The tension in her thighs eased and eased again, as if already eager to accept the driving invasion of his body. She was melting into a pool of molten chocolate and craved his tongue there, licking, murmuring how much he adored her sweet taste.
She needed to find a quiet place. A dark corner. A closet. Hell, even a bathroom stall. This wave of desire was too crazy not to indulge.
Cass mustered her nerve and walked down the hallway. Even knowing Leah, Jon and whoever else watched, she met Ryan in the doorway.
“Sorry about that,” he said, seeming almost embarrassed at having been caught out. “You look amazing. Very classy.”
She was in no mood for small talk. “Is this your office?”
“Yeah.”
“Is it private?”
He blinked. “Um, not really.”
“Damn.”
Realization turned his smile wicked. “My apartment’s six and a half minutes away. Let’s go.”
Chapter Fifteen
Ryan’s truck had tinted windows but they weren’t dark enough. Not by half. With the sultry smile Cassandra gave him, combined with her heated stare, he wanted black windows. Opaque. Something to give them privacy.
As it was, he helped her into the passenger side and snatched a hard kiss off her pretty mouth. Hand wrapped around the back of her neck, he delved fast and deep with his tongue. She clutched his shoulders then dipped under the open neck of his flight suit to fiddle with his black T-shirt.
“You are not going fast enough, Major Haverty.”
The slick business suit looked good on her—all wrapped tight and neat, like she was someone different than the Cassandra he knew. Folding his hands around her hips still felt the same. He kissed her again, leaning into the open passenger door to take more. The parking lot was crammed with cars, and thankfully he’d parked next to a Suburban that was even larger than his F-150. Their odds of being seen were low. Otherwise he would’ve had to behave.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Feels like I’m going at just the right speed.”
“You promised me six and a half minutes.”
He laughed as he shut her door and rounded the nose of the truck, then hopped in. “So to clarify, that’s six and a half minutes to get to my place. Longer after we get there.
Much
longer.”
She adjusted her skirt with careful, prim movements, but she slanted him a playful glance. His mischievous Cassandra was back. “I should hope so, mister. Otherwise I’ll be very disappointed in you.”
“Can’t have that,” he said, even as his foot tried to slam down on the gas pedal.
His leg vibrated as he did his damnedest to pull back. Blowing through base over the speed limit would be the absolute fastest way to kill the moment. No way he could look at Security Forces and keep a straight face.
The contrast of chewing those three jerk-offs new assholes, only to turn around and find Cassandra watching him, had been too much. He’d been overstrung already. Bitching out foreign pilots meant walking a fine line. Most of the time he wouldn’t have done it at all since they’d deal with their liaisons, but they had come to him asking for special tips—even after they’d been so foolish as to put
his
pilots at risk. The sheer hubris had rubbed his nerves raw.
So he’d been riding a rush of adrenaline when Cassandra asked about the privacy of his office. In other words, fuck yeah, he was all over her.
Two red lights in a row meant it took just over seven minutes to reach his front door. Cassandra pressed against his back as he fumbled with the lock. Her hands ran up and down his flight suit. She giggled when her fingers dug into his ribs and he jumped, even though the tickle was muted through the sturdy material.
“Time’s a-wasting,” she said, her voice full of laughter.
“No way.” He found the right key and jammed it in the lock. “Doesn’t count yet.”
Her hips pushed against his ass in a slow, repetitive nudge. “That’s up for debate.”
The door finally banged open against the wall. Ryan yanked them both inside, then slammed it shut. He filled his hands with her perky ass as he took her mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck.
Christ, it was like the first time all over again. Like they couldn’t get enough. As if they hadn’t spent the entire previous weekend glutting on each other.
He tangled his fingers with her loose bun and angled her neck, seeking soft skin. She tasted as amazing as ever, but a tiny hint of perfume added a spicy note to her scent.
Fuck if it didn’t add to the possibilities. Like she’d dressed up for him. Maybe to welcome him home from a deployment. He’d never had that. Never gotten off the plane after three long months in a shithole, all the while knowing someone waited on him, having decorated one of those cheesy banners specifically for him
.
He flattened his hand against the wall and kissed her harder. Deeper. Trying to push back the stupid fiction his mind always wanted to create. Cassandra would be enough.
More
than enough.
Then she spread her hands over his back. “Do you know how hot you are in this?”
“What?” He laughed, fueled by the awkwardness pinching the back of his head. “My uniform? It’s no big deal.”
“I disagree.” She nuzzled her face into his neck, chasing shivers down his spine. “Especially after hearing you chew those guys out. Very hot.”
His eyes drifted shut. “It’s just my job.”
“I know. That’s why it’s hot. The whole hard-charging jet-pilot thing? Works for me.”
Her words only cranked up the noise in his brain. More fervently now. He claimed her mouth again, just to keep her from adding to the clamor. He didn’t need those sick, stupid bullshit games. She brought him to life, especially when he curved his hands around her ribs, sliding up to the small, lush weight of her breast.
Cassandra hitched her leg around his thigh, pressing her hips against his. He was so goddamn hard. He needed to be in her.
Immediately
. But he never carried condoms when he was in uniform. Being prepared tripped over into stupid territory when he wasn’t the type to run home on his lunch break to get some. Never before, at least.
If he’d really been gone on deployment, knowing Cassandra would be waiting when he stepped off the plane, he’d keep an entire string of condoms shoved in his pockets.
He pulled back from her kiss-swollen mouth but couldn’t seem to drag his hands away. Her body was too perfect. The smile he dredged up was probably off-kilter. “Bedroom. Now. I’ll give you the tour later.”
She crossed her wrists behind his neck, her bright blue eyes sparkling as she nibbled her bottom lip. “Nope. I’m good right here.” Up on her toes, she slid along the wall before feathering kisses on his jaw.
Ryan gritted his teeth to hold back the pressure building at the base of his spine. “I don’t have any protection on me.”
Graceful hands flattened over his chest. She pushed him back until his arms extended full length out from the wall, gently caging her there. “I do. In my purse. Though I’m not sure we need them. Yet.”
She curled her fingers into the front placket of his flight suit. Found the zipper. Pulled. Up underneath she caressed his shoulders as she pushed his uniform down off his arms. It pooled around his hips. Her smile bloomed wider as she sank along with it. Ryan’s pulse jerked up another hundred RPMs.
With slow, mouth-watering grace, Cassandra dropped to her knees. Her classy skirt tightened around her thighs, which showed off their sleek length.