Page 24 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

JANNA

M y heart ached for him, for the weight he’d been carrying all this time.

The way he’d told that story, like he was confessing to some unforgivable sin instead of describing how he’d risked everything to save people.

I could see it in his eyes, the way the guilt had eaten at him, carved out pieces of who he used to be.

The distant sound of the party was jarring now. It was too loud, too cheerful for the raw honesty of what he’d just shared. Someone’s voice carried across the field, and Dalton tensed. His jaw clenched like he was bracing himself against something.

He was starting to shut down. I could feel it happening, the walls going back up brick by brick. After opening himself up like that, letting me see the parts of him that he kept locked away from everyone else, he was probably regretting it. Probably wondering why the hell he’d told me any of it.

I couldn’t let that happen. Not now. Not when he’d just given me something so precious and painful.

“Dalton,” I said softly, squeezing his hand. “Show me where you live.”

He blinked, like he was coming back from somewhere far away. “What?”

“Your place. I want to see it.” I stood up, tugging gently on his hand. “I’m tired of all the noise. Aren’t you?”

He looked back toward the party, then at me. For a moment I thought he might refuse, might use it as an excuse to put distance between us again. But then he nodded and let me pull him to his feet.

I was pushing, being forward. I wouldn’t pretend I knew Dalton well, but I knew him well enough to understand he appreciated his privacy.

I knew he left the dorm sometimes. No one else did.

I understood it. He needed to detach himself.

Distance himself from his friends. It was silly and a total girl thing but I wanted to be the one he counted on.

I didn’t think he needed to be fixed. Not really.

I just wanted to be someone he could trust.

“It’s not much,” he said.

I had a feeling that was bullshit. He was trying to deter me. I wasn’t going to let him push me away. If I did, I doubted we would ever get back to the point we were at right then. I had to push.

And if I’m lucky, maybe I can get the rest of those walls down. And his clothes off.

“I don’t care,” I said, and meant it. I didn’t care if he lived in a cardboard box. I just wanted to be somewhere quiet with him, somewhere he could breathe without feeling like he had to perform for anyone else.

“Come on,” he said.

We walked to the parking lot that was filled with all the extra guests. He opened his truck door for me. I quickly climbed in and felt a shudder of anticipation.

The drive was quiet, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Dalton had one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the console between us. I watched the landscape roll by in the dusk.

The communal living at the airfield was part of the job, but I could see how someone like Dalton would need somewhere to retreat when the walls started closing in. Somewhere he could be alone with his ghosts.

He turned off the main road onto a narrow dirt track that wound up into the foothills. It felt like we were driving into the wilderness, away from civilization entirely.

“Here,” he said, pulling up in front of a small log cabin that looked like it had grown out of the mountainside itself.

It was simple, rustic, but there was something solid about it that felt distinctly like him. A wide porch wrapped around the front, and I could see a stone chimney rising from the peaked roof. I could imagine how cozy it would be in the winter.

He unlocked the door and turned on the lights. I looked around and it was so him. Comfortable. Casual. A leather couch with a matching recliner. A big TV, but not gargantuan. It was clean, tidy, although I had expected as much.

“Want a beer?” he asked. We weren’t on call any longer. Drinks were back on the menu.

I had a feeling I would be spending the night, so I decided to throw caution to the wind. “Yes, please.”

He grabbed a couple cans and handed one to me. “I want to show you something.”

Dalton opened the back door. When I stepped out on the back porch, he leaned in and shut off the lights inside.

“This is where I spend most of my nights,” he said quietly. “The reason I leave the airfield. Sometimes, I just need to be here on my porch looking up at the stars.”

I couldn’t explain what happened to my heart in that moment. It was like it flipped and turned inside out at the same time. I was totally falling for him and that meant I was totally screwed.

He was a hard man. Closed off. Kind of a dick. And yet, I was getting to see who he was. The man behind the mask.

“It’s beautiful,” I said. “I get it. This is healing. Just being out here with nature.”

He took a long pull from his beer. “It’s peaceful.”

I drank as well, enjoying the frosty beverage. “We all deserve a little peace sometimes.”

He nodded. “Yep. I usually don’t bring anyone out here. They just ruin it.”

“Thank you for sharing your peace with me,” I said softly. “I hope I’m not messing it up.”

“Not at all.” He put both bottles on a nearby table and then turned back to me. “You make things better.”

He covered my mouth with his and his tongue pushed inside. Then he drew in a sharp breath and pulled back.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, searching his face.

He grinned and shook his head. “You’re still spicy.”

“Oh, I’m sorry?—”

“No, come here. I like it.” He dove back in, feasting on my lips before his mouth trailed kisses along my jawline to my earlobe.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmured, sending delicious shivers down my spine.

I slid my hands up under his shirt, loving the feel of all that hardness. I knew where the tattoos were and could practically feel them burning my palms.

He groaned softly, arching into my touch, and looked at me with hooded eyes. “Do you want this?” he asked gruffly, one hand fisting in my hair to pull my head back gently.

“God yes,” I breathed out.

He kissed me again, deeper this time, his hands roaming over my body with a hunger that made my knees weak. When he pulled back, his breathing was ragged.

“Hold on,” he said, his voice rough with desire. He disappeared inside for a moment, and I heard the soft sound of music drifting from the cabin. It was something low and bluesy that seemed to wrap around us in the darkness.

When he returned, he took my hand and led me through the cabin to his bedroom.

The space was simple, like the rest of the house, dominated by a king-sized bed with dark sheets.

Moonlight filtered through the windows. Again, I could imagine waking up in the morning and my first sight being the tree-covered mountains.

He turned to face me, his hands framing my face, and he kissed me again, slower this time, more deliberately. His thumbs traced along my cheekbones as he pulled back to look at me like something precious. Something he never wanted to let go of.

I reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. The moonlight revealed the intricate tattoos covering his chest and arms. I had to taste him, so I kissed over his collarbone and ran my tongue over his chest. I groaned at the feel of him, radiating strength.

He sucked in a sharp breath as I traced one of the designs with my fingertip. “Tell me about this one,” I whispered.

“Later,” he growled, his hands finding the zipper of my sundress. “I’ll tell you about all of them later.”

The dress pooled at my feet a second later. I felt his gaze burning over my skin. He was looking at me like I was the last slice of pineapple upside down cake. It made my heart race and my skin flush with heat.

His hands were everywhere at once. He pushed my thong down and then pushed me onto the bed.

I slid up and rested my head on his pillow.

When he reached into the nightstand drawer, I felt a flutter of anticipation mixed with nervousness.

This was really happening. This beautiful, complicated man who carried so much pain was letting me in.

He watched me as he quickly stripped. My mouth watered at the sight. A second later he was rolling a condom down his full length, proud and ready like a prize stallion. I could see the same hot desire in his eyes that I felt in my own chest.

“Come here,” he said softly, reaching for me.

I went to him willingly, ready to lose myself in him completely. He covered my body with his. His mouth found mine again, and this time there was nothing gentle about it. It was desperate, hungry, like he was trying to pour all the things he couldn’t say into the kiss.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him against me. “Janna,” he whispered against my lips. “You make me crazy.”

I arched beneath him, every nerve ending alive with want. “Good, so do you,” I breathed, not caring how desperate I sounded.

He positioned himself at my entrance, his eyes locked on mine. “Are you ready?” he asked, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

“Yes,” I said, my hands fisting in the sheets. “Let’s be crazy together.”

He pushed into me slowly, carefully savoring every slow inch. I gasped at the sensation, at how perfectly he filled me. For a moment we just stayed like that, connected, breathing hard. It was worth every minute of waiting and wanting.

“God, you feel incredible,” he groaned, his face buried in my neck.

I wrapped my legs around his ass, pulling him deeper. He made a sound that was half growl, half moan. His control was starting to slip, and I loved it. I loved seeing him unraveled, seeing the careful walls he’d built around himself crumble because of little old me.

“Harder,” I whispered.

He smirked. “Oh, woman, you have no idea what you’re asking for.”

“I know exactly what I’m asking for. Don’t hold back, Dalton. Give me all of you.”

That was all the permission he needed. His rhythm shifted, becoming more demanding, more primal.

I met him thrust for thrust. My nails dug into his shoulders as the tension built between us.

The careful control he’d maintained all evening was gone, replaced by something raw and desperate. It was a reflection of my own hunger.

“Janna,” he growled against my throat, his teeth grazing my skin. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“That’s funny. I’ve never felt this alive.”

He buried himself deeply and I lost the ability to form words. Every nerve ending crackled with fire, every touch sending sparks through my body. Sex with Dalton was as good as flying, and I loved flying more than anything in the world.

His hand slid between us, finding a sensitive spot that made me cry out. I was so close, teetering on the edge of shattering completely.

“Let go,” he whispered, his voice rough with strain. “I’ve got you.”

Those words, the promise in them, sent me soaring into the wild blue yonder. I came apart beneath him. My body arched as waves of pleasure jolted through me. He followed seconds later, his own release tearing through him as he buried his face in my neck.

We lay there afterward, breathing hard, our bodies slick with sweat, our hearts edging ever closer to something like real affection. He pulled me against his side.

“Stay,” he said quietly, his fingers gripping me like he couldn’t bear to let go.

I leaned into his touch. “I’m not going anywhere.”