Night Flight (23 page)

His voice, deep and dark, vibrated through her. She held his smoldering eyes that promised so much. Her hand stilled at his waist where the G-suit prevented the zipper from moving any farther. “Yes,” she whispered. Megan felt his fingers tighten around hers, and tears welled up in her eyes. “Love me, Sam.” It was a plea, a need torn from her heart. Megan was helpless to stop herself, and didn’t want to. The man sitting with her, his features taut, was who she wanted. Megan didn’t see his uniform, she saw only the man. Humbling herself because she saw him waver on her request, she murmured, “Please?”

Holt released Megan and stood, his gaze never leaving hers. The G-suit chaps came off easily, and he tossed them to one side. He was troubled as he unzipped the rest of his flight suit, shrugged out of it, and allowed it to pool around his feet. Did Megan want to be loved by him for the right reasons or the wrong ones? If she were reacting to the trauma of believing she had lost him, it could destroy what trust he’d built up with Megan. On the other hand, if the news had shocked her into realizing she honestly loved him, then coming together like this would be the most right thing in the world. Which one was it? Pushing the suit aside, he pulled off the dark green cotton T-shirt, revealing his chest. Next came the socks, and then he stripped out of the cotton briefs.

Megan sat there, staring up at him, and absorbed his very male form through her eyes, her senses. Holt was tightly muscled, his chest broad with dark hair, and it tapered into a hard belly, narrow waist and hips. His thighs were powerful, knees and calves well-proportioned to the rest of him. She saw the question in his eyes as he stood there beneath her appraisal. He made no move to touch her, and allowed her to make the decision, to tell him what she wanted next. There was such raw, primal energy radiating from him, that she felt dizzy with expectancy. He was beautiful, his lines cleanly sculpted, shouting of his inherent maleness. Megan lifted her hands, and began to unbutton her pale gold blouse. She fumbled with them, feeling suddenly inadequate against Holt’s strong, potent presence.

“Let me help you,” he said, and sat down next to her. The instant his fingers touched hers, she allowed him to finish unbuttoning the blouse. A new yearning careened through Megan as he slid his hands beneath the blouse, barely skimming her flesh, and easing it off her shoulders. As his gaze caressed her breasts, Megan felt them tighten, begging to be touched by him. Fractionally, she leaned toward him, closed her eyes and silently asked for his contact.

“Are you protected? Do I need to use a condom?” Sam demanded, searching her eyes.

“It’s all right,” Megan whispered. “I’m on birth control pills.”

Sam searched her eyes intently, wanting to be sure this was what Megan really wanted; that it wasn’t because of the trauma they’d all just gone through. “Okay,” he growled, lifting his fingers.

Megan wasn’t disappointed. His hands slid around her breasts, cupping them, the thin fabric of her pink lingerie a meaningless barrier between them. A small sigh escaped Megan as she rested her brow against the hard line of his jaw. His fingers outlined and stroked her taut nipples, and a flood of sensations jolted through her.

“You’re so beautiful,” Holt whispered against her ear, nuzzling the lobe, the silk of her hair tickling his nose and cheek. Sweet God, was she ever. In moments, he released the filmy bra, recapturing her small, lovely breasts. With his tongue, he caressed each nipple, feeling her soft intake of breath, a wild, fine quiver racing through her. Her lashes swept downward and she grew restless beneath his moist, heated onslaught. The moment spun to a halt, and instinctively he sensed that each touch, each stroke, suspended them in the present. Their past was forgotten. No future existed.

When Megan’s lips brushed his cheek, Holt turned, pressing her mouth against his. Her breathing was chaotic, telegraphing her need and dissolving his control beneath the fever of her request. Megan’s urgent demands shattered his good intentions as her hand slid up his chest, entangled in his thick, dark hair, brushed his nipples, and sent a torrent of urgency through him.

In moments, Megan felt her slacks being pulled away from her hips to reveal her long legs. She felt no shyness as Holt joined her on the bed, skimming her torso and her hips as he removed the last of her lingerie. His smile was very male when she leaned upward, claiming a long, drugging kiss from him. His fingers combed through her hair and gently, he guided her down to the bed and smiled into her eyes.

“I need you,” he breathed. “I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted.” And then, he leaned down, running his tongue across her lower lip, feeling her quiver and then arch her hips up against him. The contact was electric, fiery. Holt released her thick hair, caressed her small shoulders and captured her breasts, drawing the first nipple into his mouth, suckling her.

A little cry escaped from Megan as he lavished her with attention. Her world spun around her senses, around his strength as a man, and what they shared together. There was such satisfaction as he groaned when she pressed herself against his hips. The sound reverberated through her, and she felt a part of him on so many other levels already. Slowly, he released the puckered, throbbing nipple, a smile in his eyes. The depth of his worship of her skittered through Megan’s scattered senses, telling her that he applauded her equal assertiveness in their shared lovemaking. She smiled back, running her fingers through his short, dark hair, and felt his muscles tense across his back and arms, wherever she touched him.

Nothing had ever seemed so right to Megan. She saw the smoldering look in his eyes and a small breath caught in her throat as his hand moved downward across her belly. Shimmering rings of fire radiated downward and Megan grew taut, expectant. His hand eased between her thighs.

“Silk,” he murmured against her lips, “you’re wet, sweet, hot silk.” She was smooth, warm velvet as he caressed her dampened inner thighs, feeling her small cry as he gently stroked her for the first time. Sam wanted to make sure she was ready for him. There was such a moistness to welcome him as he slid his finger into her, lavished her, explored her with loving strokes meant to pleasure her, that it humbled him. Each time he touched her, a little cry burst from her. Sweet, vibrating sounds caught in her exposed, slender throat, a primal music to his senses.

Her womb tightened, the walls surrounding him contracting violently. An explosive fire burst within her and she cried out, arching against his hand, gripping his shoulder. The orgasm rippled almost violently through her and it spun her mindlessly into another dimension as he continued to caress her intimately, stroking her secret knot of nerves that burst with another orgasm following the first one. His mouth suckled her other nipple, and the tension tripled throughout her. Fingers digging deeply into his taut shoulder, Megan made a little sound of frustration. She needed to feel him deep within her, to feel captured, loved even more.

As if sensing her need, Holt rolled over on his back. Her red hair became a crimson pool across his chest as he brought Megan on top of him. The strands were thick and heavy, carrying her spicy scent as he placed his hands on her hips, guiding her as she sat up. There was such arousal in her eyes that his heart burst with an unparalleled feeling of happiness. It took his breath away. They were evenly matched to one another, both knowing it, both savoring the moment to come.

“My beautiful red-haired woman,” he whispered huskily, guiding her, wanting to feel himself deep within her wet, molten confines.

Gripping his arms, Megan felt herself being lifted. Her breath caught and she arched, throat exposed as they made contact. There was such strength and hardness against her soft, womanly core as he sheathed deeply into her, taking her, creating wave after wave of motion that unhinged her. His groan reverberated through her. Power met and melded into a cauldron of tempestuous heat and flame. He gripped her hips, and cajoled her to express all of herself within his hands, his body.

Eyes shuttering closed, Megan felt the pressure and neediness welling up deep within her once again, so hot and explosive. The orgasm wrenched through her and she cried out as she gave the gift of herself to him. Seconds later, she felt Sam stiffen and groan. Her world collided with his, they both shattered and were reformed again seconds later in the fire of their love. Lightheaded, Megan swayed, completely disoriented, feeling, not thinking. Weakness saturated her.

Holt guided her down on him so that her head lay where his shoulder connected to his neck. Her hair was a molten pool of red across his chest, just as he had always envisioned it, wanted it, dreamed of it. Megan quivered in the aftermath, but it wasn’t out of fear, it was out of good lovemaking. A smile touched the corners of Sam’s mouth. Sweat trickled down his temple as he skimmed his hand across her damp back and shoulders. The words that begged to be torn from him—
I love you
—remained stuck in his throat.

Instead, as he continued to caress her, worship her firm, loving form, he rasped, “A long time ago, I dreamed of you, long before I’d ever met you.” He sighed, feeling her move and lift her head to meet and hold his gaze.

Megan drowned in Sam’s smoldering dark blue eyes. There was such love in them for her that she couldn’t speak. Words weren’t coming easily, anyway. It was as if loving Sam had erased the shrill voice of doom in her head. If fact, she had no mind, only a rich tapestry of feelings and lingering aftershocks of pleasure like tidal waves in her core and womb after loving him. A soft, trembling smile formed on her lips, and Megan leaned down, her brow resting against his mouth.

Sam kissed her brow, tasted her saltiness and inhaled her very feminine scent. Lifting his hands, he threaded his fingers through that mass of fiery hair. He watched her soft smile of womanly knowing in her verdant gaze that was partially hidden by her thick lashes. “This dream,” he went on in a low voice, “had a red-haired Valkyrie in it. She had your face, your color of hair.” Placing a light kiss on the tip of Megan’s nose, he added, “But most of all, she had your wild, beautiful green eyes.” And then, Holt sobered, growing serious. “I like what I see in them now, Megan. I want that look to always be there, to be shared by us.”

With a sigh, she laid her head down on his shoulder, content to feel his arms go around her. “I never remembered my dreams,” she admitted wistfully.

“If you had, I would’ve been in them.”

Laughing quietly, Megan nuzzled Sam, kissed his neck and then his jaw. “You’re so conceited.”

“No, honest.”

It was her turn to become serious. “That’s something we’ve always been with one another, hasn’t it? Our honesty?”

Gently, Sam placed Megan next to him and levered himself up on his elbow. He cradled her flushed cheek. Megan’s eyes glowed with such life that he never wanted to forget that look that had been created between them, because of them. “Yes,” he said hoarsely, “I’m not sorry this happened, Megan. Only the way it happened.”

She nodded, closing her eyes momentarily, the pain of nearly losing him still sharp and hurting in her heart and memory. “I thought I was in a nightmare. I—I couldn’t believe you might be dead, Sam.”

Tracing her brow, he removed those small wrinkles of pain he shared with her. “I know. I nearly came unglued over at Ops. I was at the desk filing my flight plan when the crash siren started screaming. I found out it was all a drill. A lousy drill.”

Megan grimaced. “I wonder how many pilots’ wives it affected similarly?”

“All of them,” he said grimly. She was warm and soft beside him. Sam admired her long, slim body, an alabaster color against the cobalt blue of the bedspread. “But enough about them. All I was worried about was you. Your reaction.”

Megan sought his arms and pressed herself against the length of Sam’s body. There, she found sanctuary, safety. He continued to caress her, and kept her fears at bay.

“Talk to me, Red. I can feel you thinking.”

“How?” she asked, amazed. It was impossible that he could read her mind. And then, Megan realized that he was a highly trained test pilot, sensitized to even the slightest change of pressure, position, sensing perhaps more than actually seeing her discomfort. “Never mind,” she murmured wryly.

With a sigh, Sam sat up, leaned against the headboard and brought Megan into his arms. She came without hesitation and that was reassuring. “How can I ‘never mind’ when I care about you, your thoughts and how you feel?” he teased her gently with a smile.

“I don’t think you want to hear it. No pilot does.”

Sam gave her a small shake. “You’re talking to Sam Holt, the man. Remember?”

Megan didn’t know whether to believe him or not. If only. “Loving you was the most right thing I’ve ever done, Sam. I felt so—” Megan groped for the right words “—free to be myself, to be all that I can be.” Looking up, she held his gaze. “Does that make sense?”

“Sure does. I felt the same way. We’re good together, sweetheart.”

“We’re opposite.”

With a laugh, Sam said, “Oh?”

“You’re the extrovert, I’m the introvert.”

“So, we’ll counterbalance each other’s moods. That’s a positive.”

“You’re able to laugh at life. All I see it as is a responsibility.”

Stroking her shoulder, Sam leaned over, placing a small kiss on it. “I’ll teach you how to laugh, and you teach me how to be more responsible toward you.”

Touched beyond words, Megan grew quiet. How could this be a line coming from Sam? He sounded so sincere. She was quiet for several minutes, mulling over their other problems.

“I can hear you thinking. Want to share it?” Sam coaxed. He closed his eyes and savored Megan’s warmth. There was something so incredibly peaceful about having her with him. It was so right that it hurt.

Megan’s throat constricted, but she forced the words out.

“I didn’t want to like you, Sam. Somehow, you got to me. I don’t know how, you just did. I was getting so tired of fighting you off, telling you to go away when you wouldn’t…and all the time, I was afraid.”