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Ace smiled. “She sits here in the center of the room, and at the first sight of her, a hot flash of oxygen fills my lungs,” he said. Her eyes widened. “Nothing but a sculpted, beautiful woman can inspire that kind of reaction. She’s smooth, without blemishes. She’s intoxicating. A plane can only be known as a she,” he promised.
Ace saw desire flash in Dakota’s eyes, and he felt himself grow hard—just that quickly. He’d been thinking about Dakota during his description, but the same was true of the smooth, sweet lines of the perfect plane.
“I know many people envious of a plane’s beauty, of the confidence inspired while looking at her. She just sits there and begs you to climb inside and have a little dance.”
“Are you now a romance novelist?” Dakota asked in a husky voice.
“You inspire me,” he told her. He had to force himself not to step over to her and rip off her clothes. The thought of taking her against the beautiful machine in front of them had him aching in a way that should have sent him to the ER.
“I thought you were describing the plane, not me,” she pointed out.
“I might have gotten that a little bit mixed up,” he said with a shrug.
“We better get into the air, then . . . before we fly to new horizons without leaving the ground.”
Damn, he loved being with this woman. She didn’t shrink back from him, didn’t try to pretend there wasn’t massive attraction between them. She was real, and he wasn’t sure what he was going to do when he had no choice but to walk away from her. That put a definite pail of cold water down his slacks.
“Let’s do it,” he said, a bit grumpily.
She looked at him as she tried to figure out his sudden shift in mood, but then she moved to the door of the plane and climbed up, giving him a delectable view of her butt before she disappeared inside.
He took his time walking around the plane. This was going to seem like a longer flight than last time, no matter how much time they were in the air. Her scent would still envelop him, but this time he’d know what it was like to be deep inside her tight body. Ace had been subjected to torture, but it didn’t come close to what he was going to have to go through during the next hour or two.
Trying to convince himself he was stronger than average, he climbed in beside her and then sealed the door. He would get his mind out of the gutter and focus on her training. It truly was a life-or-death situation each time she went up in the air. The more he could teach her before he left, the better he would feel about her continuing without him. No one would train her as well as he could. Maybe he would skip this CIA mission—just let someone else have it.
As soon as he had that thought, he pushed it from his mind. He was CIA. It was his job to make the world a safer place. Nothing should stop him. Besides, he would never be happy simply giving private flying lessons. It was too mundane, too boring.
That decided, they got to work. They started the plane and began taxiing, Ace no longer in the mood to share witty banter with Dakota. That wasn’t something he’d thought would ever happen.
She was doing amazingly well, getting her turns in, listening to everything he told her as they flew out farther from the airport, lifting higher into the air.
“I could do this all day long,” she told him, her joyful laugh coming clearly through his headphones.
“Yeah, me too,” he admitted.
“You don’t find it boring after your millions of hours of flight time?” she questioned.
He laughed. “I don’t have close t
o that many hours, but no, I honestly never get sick of flying,” he admitted.
“I know I won’t, either, even when I’m flying huge jumbo jets across the Atlantic,” she said, bouncing in her seat a little bit, causing her leg to rub against his. He forced himself to ignore the shot of desire he felt.
“What makes you think you’re going to be flying across the Atlantic?” he asked.
“This is my last year of cheering. It’s time for me to grow up. I want to be a pilot, and flying small planes forever will never do. Sherman told me when I get the necessary hours and training in, I would be a shoo-in to work for Cooper’s company.”
Ace felt a tinge of jealousy at her words. He knew how the pilot community worked. A lot of those pilots had had too many affairs to count. They’d think they hit the jackpot the second Dakota stepped on board, those proud stars on her shoulders. She’d be hunted down from day one. He tried telling himself he wouldn’t care. That was at least two to three years down the road. But with Dakota’s determination, he’d bet she’d be flying every single day, racking up those needed hours.
She wasn’t his—not really—so he didn’t understand why he should even care. Maybe he wouldn’t by the time that happened. He knew that wasn’t the case, of course, but he refused to even think about it.
“Those long flights are pretty amazing,” he said.
“Did you get to fly really cool places with the CIA?” she asked.
“Yeah, when the drug cartel on my last case thought I was working for them, we did a lot of international trips. Of course, they were up to no good, so that took some of the joy of flying away, but damn if she wasn’t a beautiful jet,” Ace admitted.
“You got them in the end, so that’s the most important thing to remember,” she told him.
