Page 25 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

DALTON

T here was a moment of panic before everything became clear. And then there was another moment of panic when I remembered every sordid detail.

Janna was here. In my bed. With me. My bachelor fortress had been breached, and I wasn’t mad. Not even a little. She was soft and warm, and damn, she smelled good. I could smell myself on her and that was fucking hot.

I slid my hand under the sheet to glide over her breast. She murmured softly and tried to curl into me. That was a good sign. I had been a little worried she might have some regrets.

I sat up, listening to her steady breathing. In the past, if a woman stayed, I’d walk away. Run away. Not that I ever let a woman stay. I went to their place or their hotel. It was so much easier to use an excuse to get the hell out of their bed with a noncommitment to call.

But this was different. Janna was different. I didn’t want her gone.

I slipped out of bed, placing my pillow where my body had been. I wanted her in bed for as long as possible. I pulled on my boxers and walked barefoot into the bathroom. Then I made my way to the kitchen.

The house was filled with a citrusy scent. At first, I assumed it was a candle. Then I remembered I didn’t burn any candles. It was her. That vibrant scent that clung to her. Like she’d spent time in an orange grove. It made me smile.

I grabbed the coffee grinder and beans I’d bought last week. I stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind me. I turned on the grinder, hoping the noise didn’t wake her up. I wasn’t used to being quiet in the morning. Things were definitely different today.

With the beans ground, I walked back into the kitchen and listened. I didn’t hear her moving around. I quickly started the coffee and then pulled open the fridge to check supplies. Since I was planning on spending a lot more time in the dorms, it was a good excuse to use up the food in the fridge.

I pulled out the eggs and bacon and dug around in the pantry until I found the pancake mix.

I hadn’t cooked for anyone else in a long time.

And I wasn’t exactly a gourmet. I was a simple guy, and after surviving on Army food for so many years, I didn’t think much about making anything more than edible.

I couldn’t explain why, but I wanted to do something nice for Janna. Treat her right and she’ll keep coming back.

And fuck, that was a scary thought.

I was acting like I was running a B and B and trying to impress her. Like I wanted her to keep coming back and sleeping in my bed. That was new. I didn’t even know how to process that thought. It was foreign. And it felt weird.

But weird in a good way.

I almost whistled while I cooked.

What the hell?

One night of sex—hot sex—and I was a sap. I was standing in my kitchen wearing nothing but my briefs and making breakfast for a woman. There was no way I would have ever imagined I would be in this position.

Ever.

I took a sip of my coffee and flipped a pancake with my other hand.

And then I smelled it: citrus.

My cock twitched like it had somehow developed an olfactory sense and it too knew she was near. I glanced over my shoulder and there was more than twitching in my pants. My cock was growing harder by the second.

She walked in slowly like she wasn’t sure if she should be moving around my cabin.

She was wearing one of my T-shirts. It spilled over the curve of her hips, just barely covering the part of her I liked the most. If she lifted her arms, I’d get a full view.

I considered asking her to reach for something on top of the fridge, but that would give me a flash of her ass.

That wasn’t a bad idea either.

Her hair was a mess and that gave me a great deal of pleasure. I had done that. My hands in her hair had twisted all those silky blonde strands into a mess that would have made Medusa proud. Her lips were full and there was a bit of redness around her mouth and jaw.

I did that, too.

And that mark on her neck. I remembered the moment I gave it to her. It had taken all my self-control to pull back before it was a full-blown teenage-style hickey. I had no problem leaving hickeys in other places, but I didn’t want to raise questions when we got back to the field.

“Morning,” I said. Once again, it felt like I gargled with gravel. She did that to me. I was not good at the morning after shit.

“Good morning,” she said with a shy smile. She ran her hand over her hair, and I could tell she was nervous.

“You’re looking gorgeous,” I said, hoping to calm her embarrassment.

She laughed. “Yeah, I haven’t seen a mirror but I’m afraid to look.”

I left the pancake in the pan and closed the distance between us. My hands went to her hips, and I pulled her close.

“No!” She turned her head just before my lips landed on hers. “I have morning breath!”

I grinned. “So?”

“I’ll be back in a minute.”

“There’s a pack of toothbrushes in the drawer,” I said. “I am going to kiss you. So if you’ll feel better about it, brush your teeth.”

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded, slipping out of my grasp and padding toward the bathroom.

I watched her go, the way the hem of my shirt swayed with each step, revealing just enough to make my pulse quicken.

I turned back to the stove, flipping the pancake before it burned, but my mind was still on her.

On the way she’d felt in my arms last night, the way she had cried out my name.

And the feel of her sweet little body squeezing mine as she climaxed over and over.

The sound of running water came from the bathroom. I poured batter into the pan for another pancake, trying to focus on the task at hand. I wanted to feed her. Spoil her. Show her I wasn’t always an asshole.

She came back into the kitchen a few minutes later, her hair still tousled but her face fresh and glowing. She looked at me with those bright blue eyes, and I felt that same pull in my chest that I’d been trying to ignore since the moment I met her.

“Better?” I asked.

“Much,” she said. “Although this is going to take a little longer to repair.” She gestured at her hair and grimaced.

“I love it,” I said.

I went back to her, and this time, she didn’t pull away. Her lips were cool and minty as they met mine, and I kissed her slowly, savoring the taste of her. And I wanted to fuck her right there in my kitchen.

“It smells good in here,” she murmured against my lips.

“I made breakfast.”

I didn’t elaborate because I was too busy with thoughts of a different breakfast entirely. I went back in for another kiss. It was far greedier. Far more demanding. My body had a mind of its own when I was around her.

I couldn’t help myself. The way she looked standing there in my shirt, her hair a mess and her lips still swollen from last night, it was too much.

She gasped into the kiss, her hands flying up to grip my shoulders.

I didn’t give her a chance to think, to pull away.

My tongue swept into her mouth, tasting the mint of her toothpaste mixed with something uniquely her.

She moaned softly, her fingers tangling in my hair as she kissed me back with equal fervor.

I backed her up against the counter, my body pressing into hers.

I deepened the kiss. Her hands slid down my chest, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

I could feel her heart racing against mine, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps every time I pulled back just enough to let her breathe before diving back in.

“Dalton,” she whispered against my lips, her voice trembling with need.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My hands slid under the hem of the shirt she was wearing, skimming over the smooth skin of her thighs before gripping her hips and lifting her onto the counter.

She wrapped her legs around my waist instinctively, pulling me closer as our mouths met again in a desperate clash of teeth and tongues.

And then a screeching sound cut through the moment.

I jerked back. “Shit!”

I quickly went back to the stove and grimaced at the pancake that was now a charcoal puck in the pan. I turned on the overhead fan while Janna grabbed the broom in the corner and waved it under the smoke detector. I opened the back door to let some of the smoke out.

I had been completely oblivious to the smell of smoke. The woman consumed me. That was dangerous but I didn’t give a shit.

The smoke alarm finally quieted. I tossed the hockey puck of a pancake into the trash and shook my head. Thankfully, there was already a decent stack, and the bacon was warming in the oven. All was not lost.

She looked around the mess. “You did this for me?”

“Yeah.”

We sat at the table with the food I didn’t burn to a crisp.

“This is really good,” she said around a mouthful of pancake, syrup glistening on her lips.

“It’s just pancakes,” I said, shrugging like it was no big deal. But it was. I didn’t cook for people. Not like this. Not breakfast in the morning after they’d spent the night in my bed.

“Just pancakes? Dalton, these are amazing. You’re holding out on me.”

I smirked, cutting into my own stack. “Maybe I am.”

It was strange. I had a weird feeling in my chest. Like something I hadn’t realized was empty was suddenly full. She had this way of filling in the gaps, the cracks I’d been carrying around for years without even noticing.

After breakfast, we cleaned up together, her hip brushing against mine as we moved around the small kitchen. She stretched her arm in front of me, and I caught a whiff of her shampoo.

“Where were we?” I murmured against her ear. I grabbed her around the waist and pulled her body against mine, her back to my chest.

She laughed and tilted her head to the side as my lips found the soft skin of her neck. “I think we were about to burn down your kitchen.”

“Worth it,” I growled, my hands sliding up her sides under the oversized shirt. She shivered against me, her body arching into my touch. “You’re a dangerous distraction, Janna.”

“Me?” She gasped as my teeth grazed her shoulder. “You’re the one who can’t keep his hands to himself.”

“Can you blame me?” I turned her in my arms, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss. She melted into me, her fingers tangling in my hair. I backed her against the counter again and jerked the shirt over her head, exposing her beautiful body to mine.

“Dalton.”

“Yeah?” I murmured, my lips trailing down her jaw.

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re irresistible.”