The drive home is a blur.My mind keeps circling back to him—the way Ash stood so close, the heat of his voice in my ear, the damn smirk that seems permanently etched onto his face. Every time I try to push the memory away, it comes roaring back with more intensity, setting my nerves alight.
I walk through my front door, feeling as tightly wound as a jet engine at full throttle.
I toss my keys onto the counter and slip off my boots, letting out a long sigh as I move through the familiar space of my home. Usually, the quiet here is a relief after long days on the airfield, but tonight, it feels heavy, charged.
I pour a glass of wine and sink onto the couch, staring at the darkened TV screen. I don’t even bother pretending to turn it on.My mind isn’t on reality TV or the stack of work I brought home—it is on him.
I lean my head back against the couch, closing my eyes as the memory of him in my office plays out again. The way he spun my chair, the heat of his hands bracketing me in, the subtle challenge in his voice when he whispered my call sign like it was his favorite word.
A shiver runs down my spine, and I let out a frustrated groan, setting the glass of wine down before I tip it over. I am a grown woman, his superior officer, for crying out loud. I should be able to shake this off.
But I can’t.
The memory of him remains vivid, the thought of his proximity setting my skin on fire. My body aches with a tension I can’t ignore, a need that has been building all day and now threatens to consume me.
My fingers trail absently along the edge of my thigh, and I bite my lip, my breath hitching.
This isn’t something I should entertain—not for a second. But no amount of rules or discipline can erase the way he made me feel in that moment.
I don’t know what possesses me. One minute, I am on my couch, trying to drown out my thoughts with a glass of wine, and the next, I am grabbing my keys and heading for the door. The ache in my chest—and lower—is unbearable. Is there only one solution? The man causing it.
The drive to Ash’s apartment is another blur, my pulse pounding louder with every mile. I barely register parking the car or climbing the stairs. All I know is that this need for him is something I have to get out of my system quickly.
When I reach his door, I don’t knock softly or hesitate. My fist hits the wood with three sharp bangs.
It only takes a few seconds before the door swings open, revealing Ash standing there in nothing but a pair of black boxers. His dark hair is still a little damp, his toned chest glistening faintly, and his expression shifts from surprise to curiosity in an instant.
“Phoenix?” he says, his voice rough from what I assume is sleep.
I don’t answer. Instead, I push past him, my heels clicking against the floor as I head straight for what I hope is the bedroom.
“Phoenix?” he calls after me, but his tone is more amused than confused.
I don’t slow down. My jacket hits the floor first, followed by my boots. I was already tugging my shirt over my head when I reached the hallway, leaving it behind as I walked with purpose.
“Amelia,” Ash says again, his voice closer now as he catches up. I can feel his presence right behind me, warm and electrifying, but I don’t stop.
By the time I reach the bedroom, I am unbuttoning my pants, kicking them off as I step into the dimly lit space.
Ash finally catches up, his hands gently gripping my arm as he spins me to face him. His dark eyes burn with a mix of heat and confusion. “What are you doing?”
I look up at him, my breathing ragged, and let the smirk I’ve been holding back curl my lips. “What does it look like I’m doing, Carr?”
For a moment, he just stares at me, his gaze flicking over my body, now clad only in a lacy black bra and matching panties. His jaw tightens, and his fingers flex against my arm like he is holding himself back.
“You sure about this?” he asks, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.
Instead of answering, I reach out, curling my fingers into the waistband of his boxers, and pull him closer. “Shut up, flyboy.”
And just like that, the tension between us snaps, and all the restraint we both have been holding onto vanishes.
The moment my lips meet Amelia’s, everything else disappears. No rules, no ranks, no drills—just her.
I know two things immediately: One, this woman knows exactly what she wants, and two, I am more than game to let her take whatever she needs, even if it is just for tonight.
Her hands slide up my chest, nails grazing my skin as she comes closer, and damn, the heat of her touch burns through me like jet fuel. There is no hesitation, no second-guessing in the way she kisses me—just pure, unfiltered need.
I wrap my arms around her, one hand pressing into the curve of her back, the other tangling in her hair as I deepen the kiss. I taste how the wind smells and something else unidentifiable in her kiss, but I already know I crave it.
