Page 97 of My Fallen Saint

Chapter Thirty

“Me? Fly?” I’m sitting in the co-pilot seat in one of the Saint Charter jets, with Marci sitting next to me in the pilot seat.

She laughs. “Well, you’re not going to land. Just keep us in the air for a few minutes. I promise you, it’s not that different than driving.”

“The dashboard’s a lot more complicated,” I point out, which, considering I drive a car built in the sixties, is an understatement.

Still, I’m game, and I listen as she explains the function of the various readouts, how to keep the plane level using instruments, and then has me climb an additional five-thousand feet to our cruising altitude.

“You’re practically a pro,” she says.

“You’re generous,” I tell her, but I’m thrilled. It’s not got the same zing as being in a fighter jet simulator, but the odds of me ever being behind the wheel of one of those in reality is pretty slim. And there’s no denying that right now, I’m the one in charge of our safety as we soar through the sky toward the desert. With Marci firmly on back-up, of course.

I keep the controls a bit longer, then pass it back to Marci. I’m enjoying my time in the sky, but I also want to enjoy it with Devlin.

I head from the cockpit to the cabin, then wink at Gregg before I close the panel between me and the crew’s section.

Devlin looks up from a stack of papers, his face alight with amusement.

“You look as satisfied as you do after sex,” he says. “I think I’m jealous.”

“Not sex,” I tell him, as I put the papers aside and settle onto his lap. “Foreplay.”

He grins as I climb onto his lap, straddling him. “Well, this is interesting.”

I hook my arms around his neck. “I want you to tell me the truth. Why did you arrange that?”

“You didn’t enjoy it?”

“You know I did. Because you, Mr. Saint, are devious. And maybe a tad manipulative.”

His brows rise. “Am I?”

I nod sagely. “Oh, yes. You knew that after taking that wheel, I’d want a turn with you, too.”

“You’re giving me a lot of credit.”

“Just calling them as I see them.” I reach down and cup his erection, then lift one brow. “You could have just said you wanted to induct me into the Mile High Club.”

“I could have,” he agrees, sliding one hand down the back of my jeans until his fingertip grazes my ass. “But this is more fun.”

“Devlin—”

“Do you want me to stop?” His fingertip strokes the sensitive area, sending shockwaves crashing through me.

“Ah, that would be a no,” I say, rocking my hips and trying to grind against him as the storm wells inside me.

“You are so gorgeous when you’re turned on. Like you’re lit from within.”

“If I am,” I say, “You’re the one igniting me—oh, God yes, right there.” He’s unfastened my jeans and slid down the zipper. Now his other hand is down my pants, his palm caressing my clit as his fingers slide inside me. I rock back and forth as he teases me with both hands, relishing the rising climax and at the same time never wanting this feeling to end. “More,” I murmur, as he fingers me deeper, harder.

“Pull up your shirt,” he demands, and I do, then tug my bra down to free my breast for him. I arch back, rocking against his fingers as he sucks on my breast, and strands of electricity shoot all the way through me, wilder and faster until it’s as if my body can’t hold so much pleasure all at once, and it explodes out of me, making my body shake , hot and cold and wild and sated.

“Oh, God,” I say, shifting so that I can slide off his lap and collapse to my knees onto the carpeted floor.

I rest my head on his thighs as his fingertip gently brushes skin. “You’re amazing,” he says.

I lift my head and smile. “I think that’s my line.” I glance up at him, and then down at his very obvious erection. Then I reach for his fly. “I think I need to do something about that.”