She must feel it because her head turns, and for the briefest second, our eyes meet. She doesn’t look away, doesn’t so much as flinch. If anything, the corner of her mouth twitches in what I can only describe as a challenge.
Alright, then.
Excusing myself from the group, I make my way toward her, my heart pounding harder than I care to admit. When I reach her, she turns back to Knox, but I don’t give her a chance to ignore me.
Grabbing her by the elbow, I move us away from the crew so I can actually talk to her.
“You knew who I was the entire time last night, didn’t you?” I say, keeping my voice low enough that only she can hear.
She glances at me out of the corner of her eye, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips. “And if I did, flyboy?”
I cross my arms, leaning just a little closer. “Then that’s one hell of a power move, Commander.”
Leaving her standing in the hangar with my last statement, I swing a leg over my bike and kick it to life. The rumble of theengine feels like the only good thing that has happened all day. I tear out of the base, heading toward my apartment and the promise of cold beer and silence.
Amelia Maddox. That woman busted my balls all damn day, and it is infuriating how much I still can’t stop thinking about her. The way she moved, the way she talked, the way she saw right through me like I’m some rookie still learning to take off.
And then there was the other part—the part where she was completely immune to me.
That was a first.
Usually, my charm, my dimples, or the casual mention of being a pilot are enough to turn heads. I am not cocky for no reason; I’ve built my reputation on it. Women love the idea of a guy who can fly a jet, and I’ve never been shy about using that to my advantage.
But Maddox? She wasn’t having any of it. Not last night, not today, and definitely not tomorrow, if her attitude is anything to go by. Hell, she is my superior officer now. Off-limits in every way.
I sigh as I pull into the lot outside my building, cutting the engine and taking off my helmet. The quiet hum of the evening settles around me as I head inside. All I want is a beer and a chance to lick my wounds.
Because, whether I like it or not, Amelia Maddox isn’t just under my skin—she’s set up shop there, and I have no clue how to shake her loose.
Stepping into my apartment, I head straight for the shower to wash this day off me.
The hot water cascades over me, washing away the sweat and grime from the day. I let out a long exhale, leaning against the shower wall as the steam fills the room. My body aches from the drills, but my mind? My mind holds onto one thing—or rather, one person.
Her.
I groan under my breath, tipping my head back into the spray. No matter how hard I try, I can’t get her out of my head. The way she moved with that confident stride, her voice sharp and commanding, the curve of her lips when she gave me a look that said she knew exactly how to handle someone like me.
And those curves…
The image comes out of nowhere—Amelia standing there in that damn flight suit, every line of her body impossible to ignore. The memory sends a surge of heat straight through me, and before I know it, my hand is sliding down my stomach.
My eyes close, and the water beats against my shoulders as I wrap my hand around my length, stroking as I picture her. My breathing picks up, the tension from the day fading with each pass.
Amelia, her eyes locking onto mine, that smirk playing at the corner of her mouth, and the way she carried herself like she was untouchable. It only makes me want to touch her more, to see if I can crack that perfect composure.
My pace quickens, my body tightening as I remember her scent and the way her hair glinted in the sunlight. My grip tightens as I chase my release, my thoughts consumed by the woman who seems determined to keep me at arm’s length.
I bite down a curse as the tension snaps, my body shuddering as the water washes everything away.
Breathing hard, I stand there for a moment, my hands braced against the wall as reality sets back in.
Get a grip, Carr, I tell myself, shaking my head. She is my superior officer, my instructor, and completely off-limits.
But as I shut off the water and reach for a towel, I can’t help the smirk that tugs at my lips. Amelia Maddox might be untouchable, but that doesn’t mean I won’t try.
I pull on a pair of gray sweatpants, still toweling off my hair as I walk barefoot toward the kitchen. The fridge door creaks as I grab a cold beer, the cap hissing when I twist it off. The first sip is heaven, the drink that hits just right after a long, brutal day.
I am halfway to the couch, ready to collapse, when a knock at the door stops me in my tracks.
