Page 50 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

19

DALTON

The next morning, I wasn’t planning to see anyone, which was why I was still shirtless in the kitchen, flipping bacon in a skillet and sipping coffee straight from the pot like the feral bachelor I was. The living quarters were quiet. Most of the crew had either rotated out or were sleeping off last night’s trip to the bar. I had the morning off. One of the rare quiet ones. No fire, no simulator, no planes to fix.

It was the calm before the storm. We all knew it but no one was dumb enough to point it out. Because as soon as someone said things were “quiet” or “slow,” shit hit the fan. As much as I loved the adrenaline and the flying, I didn’t actually want fire to chew through forest land, killing hundreds of animals or destroying people’s properties. Quiet was just fine by me.

I was contemplating what I needed to do with my day when Janna walked in.

Barefoot, damp hair tied in a braid over one shoulder, wearing cutoff denim shorts and a loose tee that did not help my concentration one damn bit.

Fuck.

I’d had a shitty night because I couldn’t stop thinking about her. The taste of her was forever burning into my very soul. Seeing her all makeup free and natural turned my insides into a pool of molten lava. I fucking wanted her.

“Hi,” she said, walking to the cabinet to get herself a mug.

“Thought you’d be sleeping in,” I said, nodding to her as I flipped the last piece of bacon onto a plate.

“Nah. Military kid, remember? You’re burning daylight if you’re in bed five minutes after the sun rises. I was hoping to catch you before you disappeared into your antisocial hobbit cave.”

I raised a brow. “My hobbit cave?”

She grinned at that, and I hated how good it felt to make her smile. “Or wherever it is you disappear to. I thought you were too good to hang out with the rest of us amateurs.”

I let out a snort. “A lot of these guys have ten years of experience on me. I’m the amateur.”

“And we both know that’s not true.”

I turned off the burner and set the pan aside. I could feel her eyes on me. When I glanced over, she was staring at my chest, her gaze lingering on the tattoos that covered my torso. The hunger in her blue eyes made my cock twitch. I had to fight the urge to cross the room and pin her against the refrigerator.

“You want some bacon?” I asked, my voice rougher than I intended.

“Sure.” She moved closer, close enough that I could smell her shampoo. Something clean and citrusy that made me want to bury my face in her hair. “You cook often?”

“When I’m hungry.” I grabbed another plate from the cabinet, trying to ignore the way her shorts hugged her ass. “You?”

“Besides cookies? Not really. I’m more of a takeout and frozen dinner kind of girl.” She leaned against the counter next to me, and I caught a glimpse of smooth skin where her shirt rode up. “I’m thinking I should learn. You know, for when I want to impress someone.”

The way she said it, with that teasing lilt in her voice, made my jaw clench. “Anyone in particular you’re looking to impress?”

She shrugged, but her eyes never left mine. “Maybe. Depends on whether he’s worth the effort.”

“Trust me, Princess. Any man worth impressing wouldn’t care whether you could cook.”

She tilted her head, studying me with those bright blue eyes. “No? What would he care about then?” Her eyes dropped to my crotch. The beast was stirring and she knew it.

She was playing with fire, and we both knew it. “He’d care about the way you taste when you come apart under his tongue. He’d care that you said his name. Begged him to fuck you.”

Her breath hitched and her pupils dilated.

“Dalton,” she said softly, and the way my name sounded on her lips made my control slip another notch.

“What we did yesterday,” I started, then stopped. What the hell was I supposed to say? That it was a mistake? That it couldn’t happen again? The words felt like lies even before I could speak them.

“Was incredible,” she finished for me, stepping closer. “And I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Neither could I. I’d barely slept, replaying every sound she made, every way she responded to my touch. “Janna⁠—”