Page 150 of Aviatrix

When I open my eyes, he’s staring at me like he’s been imagining this for eight years.

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t.

Tomorrow, we’ll figure out who’s behind Rourke’s attacks. We’ll contact the General. We’ll plan and prepare for a war we never asked for.

But tonight, I’m letting myself have this.

Have him.

Eli eases the fabric down my legs, giving me every opportunity to change my mind. I don’t. I reach for him, and the tension in his expression softens into something familiar, something that belongs to the two people we were before secrets, distance, and war came between us.

My breath hitches when he drops to his knees, and my hand instinctively finds his shoulder for balance. He peels the black pants off my feet one at a time.

Then, his fingers find the edge of my underwear and he pauses, waiting.

When a smile spreads across my lips, that’s all he needs.

He slips the material over my thighs with a grin that makes me laugh for the first time in days, and my chest breaks open.

We were always rushing at the Academy. Between classes, tests, and flights, we stole whatever minutes we could find. Every stolen moment came with a clock ticking somewhere in the background.

Not now.

Now, we have the night.

He touches me with the confidence of someone who remembers, but there’s tenderness beneath it, too. No urgency. No demands. Just Eli watching me, listening to every breath and quiet reaction as if relearning a language he never completely forgot.

He kisses my inner thigh before his tongue flicks the most sensitive part of me, circling, teasing. I moan, my body arching as his mouth closes over it.

The pleasure builds until I can’t separate the warmth of the water from the heat moving through me. My fingers tighten in his hair as the room falls away.

Then I’m trembling, and he’s there before my legs can fail me.

“I’ve got you, Quay,” he whispers.

My heartbeat slowly settles as I breathe him in. Citrus and mint. The scent is so distinctly him that it nearly undoes me all over again.

Steam curls around us as he smiles.

“I missed this,” I admit, tracing my fingers along his waist. “With you.”

His expression changes, the teasing fading into something deeper.

“So did I.”

He helps me beneath the warm stream, and for a while, neither of us speaks. We wash away sweat, grime, and the remains of a day that asked too much from both of us.

Then his mouth finds mine again.

We don’t rush. We explore. His hands move over me while I relearn the familiar contours of his shoulders, chest, and arms. Eight years should have made him feel like a stranger.

They didn’t.

The air grows thick with steam and everything we never said. I kiss him until I’m breathless, until there’s no past or future—only Eli holding me as though he finally understands what letting go cost us both.

He turns me gently, his chest warm against my back.

“Still your favorite?” he asks quietly.