Page 21 of Air Affair

He shook his head. “All right then. Here we go.”

He took a few minutes to check everything, and she recited her own mental checklist as he went, recalling the names and functions of each component of the plane with loving detail. When he finished, he signaled to a nearby mechanic, who gave the propeller a good swing and backed away. Hank opened the throttle.

It was a bright, clear day, not a cloud in the sky. They taxied into position and started down the runway going faster and faster… She felt the lift as the plane left the ground and let out a whoop of glee. The wind whipped in her face as they cleared the end of the runway and soared up into the sky so high it was dizzying. She looked down, and the world below hardly looked real. This was every bit as good as she remembered.

Her heart jolted with adrenaline as they passed a flock of birds, and landmarks slipped beneath them like so many pebbles in a stream. Their speed was breathtaking. Her father’s car only went thirty miles per hour. They were going more than double that.

Hank flew past the White House and the Capitol Building. He soared out over the Potomac into Virginia, quickly leaving the city behind. They flew over farmland, a patchwork quilt below them in shades of green and gold. It was glorious. She felt more alive than she’d ever felt on land.

Up in the air like this, she had not a worry in the world. There was no Edward, no father, no expectations. Who she was didn’t matter. She was a leaf on the wind, and the world below was irrelevant. She threw her head back and yelped once again, not caring if Hank thought she was a madwoman. This was living. She couldn’t get enough of it.

Then the engine choked.

There was a jolt. It sputtered.

She gulped hard.

It died.

Her heart was in her mouth. She turned to look at Hank.

He cursed a blue streak as he tried to restart the engine. They began to lose altitude. Her stomach lurched. For a mad moment, she was sure this was the end and braced herself with all her strength, clenching her eyes shut. Waves of terror washed through her as she attempted to breathe. In and out. In and out. She opened one eye and then the other. They were still in the air. All was quiet except the whistling of wind past the wires.

“Hank,” she yelled, daring a glance backward. “What’s happening?”

“The engine died. Don’t worry, princess. I’ll get you down safe. I’ve done this before. You saw me do this the day we met, remember?”

She nodded slowly. “Right. Of course.” That morning, his airplane glided down out of the sky silent and graceful as a bird. This was nothing new to him. He would get her down safe. She hoped.

Turning back around to avoid further distraction, she closed her eyes again and tried to calm herself. This was a lot of peril, even for her, though some perverse part of her was enjoying it even now. Confronted with her own mortality, she felt a strange clarity and freedom. In this moment, all that mattered were the people she loved, and Edward was notably absent from that list. She could never go back to him, no matter the cost. So much for being a practical girl.

Opening her eyes, she watched as time slowed. Every second felt like an eternity as they drifted toward the ground. At peace, she put her arms out and felt the quiet buffeting of the wind, as if she herself were floating down like a bird. Wind was such a strange thing, soft enough to caress her face but strong enough to hold them up.

The ground came closer and closer. Rory could see that Hank was making for a fallow field. The world no longer felt so far away and unreal. It was whizzing by, dangerously close. She clutched the sides of the cockpit and breathed deeply. Every second that she wasn’t dead was a miracle. And still some part of her reveled in the risk. This was so much more dangerous than anything else she’d done, like staring down a line of police times ten. The feelings coursing through her were equal parts terror and euphoria. Most of all, she felt so very alive.

The moment of truth. The plane touched down with a jolt and then floated back up again for a moment before settling back down with a bone-jarring rattle in the midst of grasses as tall as her waist. After grinding to a bumpy halt, she took a deep, shuddering breath. Intense elation flooded her like a drug. He did it! The urge to move overpowered her. She unstrapped herself and slid down from the cockpit, ran to the middle of the field and let out a barbaric howl, venting all the feelings flowing through her in that moment.

“Princess, are you okay?”

She ran back to the plane where Hank stood watching her and jumped into his waiting arms. Her momentum slammed them against the fuselage, as their lips met in a desperate kiss.

Nothing had prepared her for the sensation of that kiss, the intensity, the heat. She felt as if her whole body was aflame from the mere touching of lips and tongue. They devoured each other with a ferocity and intensity that could only be the result of their brush with death.

With a few quick steps, Hank turned them so that she was the one pinned against the fuselage. His hands caressed every curve of her as she climbed him like a cat until she was perched on him, legs around his hips and nails digging into his back. His hard length pressed against her, right where she wanted him, separated from her by only a few layers of cloth.

She’d kissed her fair share of men, but never had they felt so right or tasted so good. He was exactly what she needed, her equal in passion and fierceness. His tongue was firm and demanding, coaxing her to be bolder with her own. She nipped at his lower lip, and his moan reverberated against her. The sound went straight to her core.

“Rory, we have to stop, or I’m going to lose control,” he said in a rasping voice right next to her ear.

“Then lose control.” She kissed him again, but he pulled away.

“We’re stranded in a field in the middle of nowhere.”

“What better place? Who knows if we’ll ever find ourselves alone together like this again?” She kissed his neck and ran her hands down his chest. Her reward was a desperate groan.

“I know I’m going to regret saying this, but much as I want you, I have to try to fix the plane. If I can’t get it running again, I have to figure out how to get you back to D.C. And leaving all of that aside, I wouldn’t feel right making love to you in a weedy field.”

Shaking her head in the curve of his neck, she said, “What about in the cockpit? I’ve always wanted to canoodle in a Jenny.”