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I grab her luggage, lightweight designer stuff that speaks of someone who travels as much as she does. The bags are nothing compared to the weight of my expectations right now.
"Got everything you need?" I ask as we reach the plane, trying to sound cool, like I'm not about to fly the most beautiful woman I've ever met through the clouds.
"Everything but a good pilot," she teases, and I swear the air between us crackles with something electric.
"You're in safe hands," I promise, our eyes locking as I hand off her luggage to be stowed away. In that moment, I see it—the flicker of something more, a connection that's definitely not in the job description.
"Comfort is key," I tell her as I ensure her seatbelt is fastened and her space is impeccable. She nods, appreciative, her green eyes catching mine once more, and I'm hit with this wave of certainty.
I slide into the pilot's seat, flicking switches and gauging dials with practiced ease, but my pulse is doing a tap dance. I steal a glance over my shoulder. Kate's settling in, her curves hugged by the cream leather seat like it's been waiting for her all its life.
"Comfy?" I call back, keeping it light, though my insides are a mix of high-octane fuel and butterflies.
"Very," she purrs, and damn if that single word doesn't vibrate through the cabin—and me—like a tuning fork hit just right.
"Great, we'll be airborne in no time." My fingers dance across the controls, but it's her presence filling up the space, soaking into every inch of the cockpit. The scent of her perfume is a sweet whisper of temptation, mingling with the leather and fuel, grounding yet dizzying.
"Looking forward to the view," she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. It's playful, inviting.
"Ready for take-off?" I ask, more than one meaning layered in the question.
"Yes," she replies, and her voice is a caress that has me itching to turn around and see the expression that goes with it.
"Then let's do this," I say as the engines roar to life, a deep, throaty growl that promises power and speed. I guide the bird onto the runway, feeling the thrum beneath us, a heartbeat that syncs with our own.
The thrust of takeoff pins us back, and there's a rush that's not just from the acceleration. It's new beginnings, uncharted skies, and the thrill of what's to come. I imagine her back there, hair whipped by the controlled gusts of the cabin air, lips parted in a silent 'oh' of excitement.
We climb higher, and the world falls away, leaving nothing but us and the endless blue. We're in our own little bubble, intimate despite—or maybe because of—the horsepower at my fingertips and the altitude.
"Welcome to our cruise altitude," I tell her through the intercom, my voice steady despite the adrenaline. "Enjoy the ride, Ms. Woodbridge," I say, savoring the anticipation in the silence that follows, thick with unspoken promises.
"Call me Kate," she reminds me gently.
"Kate," I echo, letting her name roll off my tongue, imagining the soft smile on her face.
And as the miles stretch out ahead of us, I know one thing for sure. This trip is going to be anything but autopilot.
CHAPTER
THREE
Kate
I strut down the aisle of the first-class cabin, the plush carpet barely whispering beneath my stilettos. My dress is ruby red, like something out of an old Hollywood flick, only way more daring.
As I pass by the cockpit, there’s something different in the air. It's not the recycled cabin oxygen or the faint scent of coffee.
It's him.
Ben Caldwell. Captain. Pilot extraordinaire. I catch a glimpse of him from the corner of my eye, and my body goes tingly all over.
"Good evening, Miss Woodbridge," he says, his voice smooth like good whiskey.
"Evening, Captain," I reply, stepping closer than necessary to peek into his high-flying domain. There's a twinkle in his dark eyes, the kind that says he’s seen the world but is still capable of being surprised.
"Enjoying the view?" he asks, his grin daring me to flirt back.
"It’s breathtaking." I’m not talking about the clouds, but he doesn’t know that.
