Page 66 of Soaring Sweethearts

If she was going to marry a pilot, she had to be strong. She no longer had to fear he’d marry someone else, but she still had to resist the knot of dread that formed every time he took off. For him, she had to be brave.

He traced a hand up her inner thigh and cupped her, keeping his hand still. The gentle pressure was exactly what she wanted right at that moment. She wasn’t sure she could take any more canoodling, but his touch was just the right balance of intimate and comforting.

His cock pressed against her back, but he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to do anything about it. “I missed you during the war.”

“You did?” They’d been friends, of course, and they’d exchanged letters. But she’d always assumed he was too busy and distracted to think much about her.

“I wrote letters that I didn’t send too, you know.”

“Oh?” She was still mad at Ernie for reading her letters and, worse yet, telling Jack about them, but it eased her anger to hear that Jack wrote things he held back too. It made Ernie’s breach of trust less mortifying.

“Every time I went into battle, I wrote to you. It became a ritual. It was a sort of last confession in case I didn’t come back. I needed you to know how important you were to me and how much our friendship meant. I didn’t intend them to be romantic. At the time, I was still deluding myself that I didn’t have feelings for you. But it’s obvious how I felt if you read them.”

The thought of him writing a final confession to her made her heart ache so much that she could hardly stand it.

“Would you share them with me?” It was a lot to ask, but now that she knew they existed, she had to see them.

“I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you the letters I wrote if you’ll let me read the letters you wrote. That way we’re both equally embarrassed.”

She should have expected that, but the thought of handing over those letters still made her cheeks burn. But it was only fair. “All right. I’ll give them to you on Sunday, after the social. Just promise me you won’t make fun of me. They’re awfully sappy.”

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her shoulder. “I would never. Pilot’s honor. And mine are pretty melodramatic, so you’d have plenty of reason to tease me back.”

“I solemnly swear to tease you mercilessly.” She wiggled her hips, and his half-hard cock rose to full attention.

“Mmm. Promises, promises.” Cupping her breast with one hand, he slid the other between her folds and traced around her bud without touching it.

Darn it all! She wanted him again. The fire that had dwindled to embers flared and sparked, even though she thought she couldn’t possibly want more. “You’re terrible!”

“Yes, I am, Mrs. Thompson.” He grazed her earlobe between his teeth, and she arched against him as his finger found her bud and started to stroke with the lightest, most infuriating touch she could imagine. “We’re going to do so many wicked things together, sweetheart. Just you wait.”

The smoldering promise in his voice shot straight to her core.

His hips began to move as he pressed against her. “Christ. Even when I’m not inside you, you feel so damn good.” He paused and sat up, leaving her panting. “Stand up, sweetheart. We’re getting out of the tub.”

“Oh?” She wanted to continue what they’d started, not dry off and go home.

“Trust me. Get up and hand me that towel.”

She complied, letting the water sluice of her as she stepped out and onto the braided bathmat. The pale blue towel hanging from a hook on the door was soft and plush.

Jack opened the drain and stood up, taking the towel as he stepped out of the tub. “Allow me to do the honors.”

With infinite care, he toweled her off, starting at the top and working his way down, following the soft touch of terry cloth with lavish kisses and licks. By the time he knelt on the floor to take care of her lower half, she was a bonfire of need. He dragged the towel down one leg, avidly watching her face, then did it again on the other leg. She was surely going to die if he didn’t give her what she needed soon.

“Hang onto the sink and hook your leg over my shoulder.” He was still dripping on the floor, and his cock strained and bobbed. But his full attention was on her as he guided her backward until her bottom bumped the sink and positioned her leg where he wanted it.

She clutched the cool porcelain as he nuzzled between her curls. What happened next was a blur, as he flew her up into the stratosphere with lips and tongue, her own desire rocketing so fast that she could hardly keep herself upright. Impossible as it seemed, she came again in a bright burst of color.

As he lowered her leg to the floor and stood, she couldn’t stop herself from reaching out to touch him. A bead of pearly liquid seeped from the tip of his cock.

He gasped at her touch. “Sweetheart, don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself. You should get dressed and go home. Just give me a minute.”

“Nonsense. Give me the towel.” She snatched it away before he could argue and started tracing the contours of his chest as she slowly stroked his hardened length. When she reached his hips with her towel, she knelt on the floor in front of him and kissed the tip, licking off the liquid.

“Fuck,” he yelled, and she looked up, startled.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “Did I do something wrong?” She figured that if he could send her soaring with his mouth, she could do the same for him, but maybe it didn’t work that way.