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“Y-you’re flying us?”
“We both are.” He motions to Brock. “One of the pilots got sick. We’d have had to cancel the flight otherwise.”
My eyes ping-pong between them as my breathing quickens.
“You’ll see everything that happens in here,” Jet says with a measured, calmness to his tone. “Nothing to worry about. If we don’t look worried, you don’t need to be, okay?”
I nod, taking a slow breath in as I look into his clear, confident eyes. I might not like him, but I know he’s capable.
“Okay… I trust you.”
He presses his lips together, his jaw hardening. “Fasten your harness.”
I look at the straps hanging from the seat. My hands shake as I reach for them. They aren’t like the cabin seat belts. There are four, and they all clip into a central buckle.
“Need a hand?” Brock offers, rising from his seat.
“She’s my passenger.” Jet unclips his belt and gets out of his seat before Brock does.
He leans over me, his face serious as he does the first strap up. I move to help him with the second, but I catch my skirt as I fumble. It hitches up my thighs, exposing gold waterlilies on pink silk.
“They’re my lucky ones,” I explain as my cheeks heat.
Jet’s eyes bore into the delicate strip of fabric between my thighs. He clears his throat, then smooths my skirt back down over my thighs with a brusque brush of his palm.
“You don’t need luck when I’m flying you, Ava.” His breath dusts over my neck as he fastens the shoulders straps for me and pulls them tight.
My gaze skates over his angular jaw and down his broad chest. His pilot uniform fits him like a glove. Like he was born in it.
“I should have guessed you’d be a pilot,” I mumble as he straps back into his seat and puts his headset on.
“Been flying since before I was born,” he says, before slipping into full concentration.
I’m enthralled as he and Brock go through their pre-take-off checks together. He’s right, being up here has made it easier. Seeing how in control he is, knowing he’s got the power in his hands for everyone’s safety makes me calmer in a way I’d never have expected.
The cockpit falls into silence as we hurtle down the runway. The only thing I hear is blood rushing in myears and a faint acknowledgment of something called ‘V1’ and ‘V2’ between the two men.
Once we’re in the air and cruising gently, Brock turns to me with a grin.
“First time up front for takeoff?”
“In a plane this size,” I answer, glancing out of the window at the clouds below us. I push away the rising memory. I can’t think about it now. Not up here.
Jet looks at me curiously but says nothing.
I chat a little more with Brock about what I thought of New York, despite only seeing a little of it. Jet is on the radio talking to air traffic, and checking readings on the controls, the thick veins in his forearms pulsing each time he reaches to one of the switches overhead. His face is a picture of calm as he slides a pair of aviators on and looks out of the window. The sight brings reassurance to me.
There’s a chime from the cockpit door and Jet checks a camera screen, then presses a button, unlocking it.
Connor comes in and checks if everyone is okay and offers us coffee.
“Why don’t you go and get some sleep, Ava.” Jet finally turns to me. “Without any herbal aids this time.”
He looks at Connor who smiles at me. “I’ll take you to your seat.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
I look at Jet, but I can’t tell where he’s looking behind his sunglasses. I unfasten my harness carefully so I don’t flash my panties at him again.
