Authors: Katie Porter
Then it was gone.
She tentatively lowered her hands, her pulse frantic. “Wow,” she whispered.
“Wow’s right.” He looked nearly as satisfied as after he’d just climaxed. Cass realized her competition wouldn’t ever be limited to other women. Planes and danger and flying Mach two…or Cass Whitman. Intimidating. How in the world was she ever going to live up?
“What’s it like, flying?”
He turned those gorgeous hazel eyes on her, still wistful. “Amazing. Breathtaking.”
“How did you know it would be that way? What got you started?”
Rubbing the back of his neck, he seemed to almost hunch in on himself. The posture wasn’t defensive, not in the classic sense, but Cass immediately felt the distance.
“You remember that coach I mentioned? Dan?”
“Yeah.”
“He took me and a couple guys from the team up in his Cessna. It was only a small four-seater, but damn.” He shook his head. “Changed my life.”
“How old were you?”
“Sixteen. I was already pretty lucky not to be in juvie, but that gave me the extra push to get my act together.”
“Juvie?”
He flinched, then exhaled heavily. “I got caught with pot when I was fourteen, at some party in our trailer park. The cops showed up. I was completely busted, probably because I was too high.”
Cass couldn’t take it in fast enough. Pot. Being high. Trailer park. She’d just seen Ryan with his fighter jet—in his element. Images of his childhood were a million miles away, like someone else entirely. Maybe that was true. He certainly wasn’t that kid anymore.
“They hauled me down to the station, probably just to scare some sense into me. I could’ve called my mom.” He shrugged. “It was a Friday night. She wouldn’t have been home. So I called Dan. I was on the JV squad, only a freshman. He showed up anyway. The cops let me off without charges, but soon enough I wanted to be safe behind bars.”
“Dan rip you a new one?”
“At first. It was his disappointment that got to me most. I’d never…” His voice trailed off. Cass took his hand, quietly begging him to continue. “I’d never had anyone give a damn before.”
The lump in her throat was thick and hot.
He adjusted his shoulders against that old burden. “So yeah, after that it was just getting away from what I’d been. Made varsity as a sophomore. My grades were still pretty bad. Got into a crappy community college. Found out the military doesn’t care where your degree comes from. By the time I arrived at OTC and then flight school, I’d really hit my stride.”
She touched his face, the slight evening stubble scoring her palm. “And he lived happily ever after.”
“Sure.”
His cell phone rang and he was quick to answer. Cass could’ve smashed the thing with a sledgehammer. She wanted more. More of who he was, but the moment was lost.
“Yeah, sounds good,” he said. “We’ll be there in a bit.” After hanging up, he jumped down from the tailgate—not that it was much of a jump for such a tall guy. “Jon and Leah are at a club. Sounds like fun.”
Not only was the moment lost, he had it in lockdown. He’d never made plans for both of them without asking her first. Cass tried to hide visible signs of her frustration.
“You dance?”
“Me? Oh, hell no.” Ryan laughed, donning his All-American armor. “Although Princess is a serious diva when she drinks, and Tin Tin’s always good for a few laughs.”
Apparently that was what he needed right now.
As she hauled herself into the passenger seat, Cass decided to let go of the heavy, unexpected emotions brought on by their day. Soon enough Memorial Day weekend would be over, and she’d need to decide what to do about her family.
Chapter Twenty-Five
They were halfway across Vegas when Cassandra’s wiggling and twisting in the passenger seat caught Ryan’s attention. “What are you doing?”
“I wasn’t really dressed for a club.” She slanted an unreadable glance at him before bending her head to her knees and giving her hair a shake. “Since no one asked me, I’m getting ready.”
He tightened his fingers around the steering wheel. Her voice only carried the slightest hint of reproach and she’d been smiling—but he felt a pinch of chagrin anyway. No denying that he’d signed them both up to meet his friends.
He’d wanted out of there. Flat-out truth.
Having ditched those embarrassing years a long time ago, he didn’t like revisiting them, no matter that Cassandra deserved some honesty. She’d taken a risk inviting him to meet her family, letting him see why she sometimes felt trapped. Quid pro quo and that shit. That hadn’t made the facts any easier to spit out.
He’d escaped. End of story. He didn’t want to have to drag up the crap all over again.
When she sat back up, her shimmering hair was tousled into a mess reminiscent of when they’d awaken wrapped up together on weekend mornings—or not long after they’d gone to bed, the strands tangled as they got busy. She stripped the demure short-sleeved sweater she’d been wearing, leaving only a clingy, strappy top that showed off her breasts.
“How the hell did you do that?”
Cassandra grinned at him as she reached behind her back. “Girl magic. Wait ’til you see the rest.”
Be damned if the next twist of her shoulders didn’t have her bra falling into her hand in a lacy pile. The perky mounds of her breasts pushed against a top that now seemed skimpier. So far her nipples were bare pokes, but he hoped that wouldn’t last long. Ryan’s mouth watered.
After digging in her purse for a minute, she dabbed something on her lips and eyes that made her even hotter. More sultry. From suburban princess to club girl in two minutes flat.
That ability to turn herself into another person entirely…
He shifted in his seat and tried to use logic, rather than letting his dick do the thinking. She still wore the same jeans as at her parents’ house, but they looked entirely different with an inch of her bare skin showing above the waistband. Her mouth was more lush than normal, glistening with a gloss that reminded him of their epic lunch break, the one where she’d wrapped her mouth around his cock until he exploded. Her breasts bounced slightly as the Ford chugged over a speed bump in the club parking lot.
More than that, even her demeanor had changed. She wasn’t the cute younger daughter who’d spent the morning assembling a fruit salad. The slinky curve of her waist reminded him of how she looked while riding him to a ravishing finish. The eighteen inches between her knees—was that intentional? As if she were inviting him to imagine the possibilities. She used her clothes to adjust her outlook on an intimidating world, like a chameleon changing the color of its skin.
She angled one arm across the open window and smirked at him. “See? Girl magic.”
“I’d complain about false advertising, but you’re way hot normally.”
She giggled. “I’d kiss you for that one, but I’d get lip gloss all over you.”
“It’s probably not my color.”
The club was housed in a sprawling industrial complex on the edge of town, which meant that Leah must’ve picked it. Jon preferred the lux, big-money places nearer the Strip that sported one or two idle paparazzi hanging around outside. Tin Tin might never make the papers, but apparently his family was hooked into some invisible uppity-up information network. They spit nails whenever they learned of Jon out boozing it up. However, the venue on that night’s agenda wasn’t the type—more like where the locals went to get their fuck-the-tourists on after work. Ryan stripped down to his white undershirt so he wouldn’t stand out too much.
He kept an arm slung low on Cassandra’s waist as they wove through the club’s different levels. There was no way to miss how her hips started working the second a heavy bass line wrapped around them.
He might even be willing to dance with this woman. Such a sap.
They found Jon sitting at a table on the highest level, of course, where the music was muted and the atmosphere as refined as the place got. He’d staked out a corner table where he could see everything. A bleach blonde in a sparkly top cut down almost to her black leather pants leaned over the table. Jon dismissed her as soon as Ryan and Cassandra walked in. She flounced away with a pout on her collagen-injected lips.
Ryan held out a chair for Cassandra, then sat next to her. “I hope we didn’t interrupt anything.”
Jon’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“The chickie,” Cassandra explained for them both. “She looked pretty interested in you.”
The shrug that folded his shoulders said he didn’t care in the least. “No challenge.”
Ryan couldn’t help but laugh, letting go of the last of the tension he’d been holding. Jon could be such an egotistical jackass. Only his unstinting loyalty to his friends made up for his arrogance. “Where’s Princess?”
“Shaking her ass down on the hip-hop level, I think.” He waved for the waitress, who came bounding over, although she’d been serving another table.
“What would you like?” she asked Jon with a smile.
By the time the drinks arrived, Leah had reappeared. Sweat dampened her forehead and stuck dark strands of hair to her cheeks. She draped herself in a chair beside Jon and smiled at Cassandra. “Glad you lovebirds could make it. I was beginning to think you were keeping Fang strapped to a bed.”
Cassandra’s eyes sparkled, even in the dim light of the club. “Now that’s not a bad thought…”
Ryan groaned. He stretched his arm across the back of her chair, trailing touches over her soft shoulder. “Geez, don’t give her any ideas.”
“Hush, you.” Cassandra folded her arms on the table and leaned in. “Feel free to give me all the ideas you want.”
“Help me out here, Tin Tin,” Ryan said.
Jon only crossed his arms over his chest. “No way. Don’t you know this is a one-in-a-million chance?” He waved between the two women. “They look like they’re setting up for girl talk. Girl
sex
talk. We may never have this opportunity to peer into the murky depths again.”
Keeping his smile in place became a bit more difficult when his insides twisted. If Cassandra gave him the least hint, Jon would pick apart their dynamic in seconds. The shudder Ryan gave wasn’t the least bit forced, but he played it up anyway. “Like I really want to know about Princess’s murky depths.”
Cassandra walked her fingers up his thigh. “You don’t have to play. I know you two dated, remember?”
Laughing, Leah picked up her margarita. “Yeah, but there was no depth-exploring. Trust me on that one. We were all sorts of shallow. Probably why it ended so damn quickly.”
Ryan watched Cassandra out the corners of his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he hoped she caught the implication—that yeah, they had been getting down and dirty, but he’d let slip more with her than with any other woman. The realization of just how much she’d edged under his skin was both appealing and chilling. Not frightening, because he still had his balls. More like unsettling. Nerve-racking. He was living at DEFCON 1, always locked and cocked.
He managed to shift the conversation but couldn’t keep control of it for long. Leah had just waved for another round of drinks when she leaned across the table and crooked her finger at Cassandra. “I bet Fang hasn’t even told you what hot shit he is, right?”
Confusion wrinkled Cassandra’s brow. “What do you mean?”
“You’re dating a freakin’ war hero,” Leah said on a grin. Her voice had started to slur the tiniest bit.
Ryan rubbed a hand across the back of his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’ve all been over there. Done what we had to. That’s all.”
Most of the time, he didn’t mind the shit-talking—trading stories when the drinks got too deep. No way did he miss the way Cassandra’s eyes darkened. She’d lost her tip-tilted smile.
As oblivious as always, Leah went on. “My favorite is the way Fang got his first Distinguished Flying Cross. I was there for that one.”
Jon aimed a smile at Cassandra. “Your boy rocked it out.”
“Outside Fallujah,” Leah said. “Remember?”
“Course.” Ryan wrapped a hand around his beer bottle, but there was no cooling his palms. He had the sudden, ridiculous wish that the music in their corner of the club would crank up. Make more talking impossible.
“It was a thing of beauty,” Leah said with a shake of her head.
“Do tell.” Jon’s sly smile said he knew exactly what this was doing to Ryan.
“We were flying low already because it was getting dark and there were too many friendlies on the ground. Fang here spotted a convoy and pushed even lower. Took out half the thing all by himself—with his 20-millimeter cannon.” She even provided sound effects. “Though they were trying to strafe him with anti-aircraft guns. Just
fab
flying.”
Ryan risked another glance to where Cassandra took it in with wide eyes. Her mouth fell open as her gaze darted between Tin Tin and Princess.
Across all the times he wondered what it would be like to have someone waiting at home for him, he’d never considered the actuality. That person would be worried, scared shitless sometimes, when he was just doing his job and protecting the rest of his flight. As far as he could tell, his mom hadn’t had a clue. He’d done the good-son thing every time, telling her when he was going over. She’d always seemed surprised when he called to say he was home, like she’d forgotten where he went.
There it was, almost four years after the incident Leah described, and Cassandra responded as if to fast-breaking news. Her breathing had gone shallow while her fingers clenched his knee.
Ryan wrapped his hand over hers and pried it free, finger by finger. After lacing his hand through hers, he drew it up to his mouth and feathered a kiss over her white knuckles. “That was awhile ago.”
Her eyebrows rose, her smile looking forced. The corners of her eyes were pinched. “Oh really, Major? You wanna tell me you wouldn’t go back?”
“If I was told to,” he said with a forced shrug.
“Right. You’re an instructor.”
“For now,” Leah added blithely.
He could’ve killed the woman. Buried her body in the desert and let the javelinas have her. Instead he kicked her in the shins.
“What the hell was that for?”