Page 38 of When We Collide

I mutter under my breath as I warily follow him through the airbase. We round the corner where all the jets are lined up. I admire the aircrafts in awe as we pass by them. Each one more magnificent than the last.

“They're beautiful, aren’t they?” I nod and he sighs, “There are only two places a man goes to ease his woes around here. One is the gym, and for us pilots it’s right there.” He points ahead, and I follow his finger; sure enough I see Dean sitting on the wing of a jet, his eyes cast down, a look of defeat on his handsome face.

“Thank you...” I look down at his name tag, “Killian.” He smiles and salutes before walking off. With a sigh I stroll over to where Dean is and look up at him. As usual his senses are sharp because his eyes lift to mine.

“Hey there, Bullseye, you got space for one more up there?” I ask.

Dean's brows furrow, forming a deep 'v' as he watches me approach. His intense gaze follows my every move, like that of a hawk honing in on its prey. “What are you doing out here, JJ?” His voice is low and steady, betraying the concern in his tone.

I meet his unwavering stare and state simply, “Looking for you. Can I come up there or…”

Dean nods and shifts, gesturing towards the narrow ladder by the cockpit. “Use those steps,” he instructs, pointing with a strong hand. I follow his guidance and begin to climb, feeling slightly nervous at being so high up on the wing of the plane. Dean shuffles closer as I ascend, extending a hand to help me onto the smooth metal surface.

“Watch your step,” he warns, his grip tightening on my hand. But before he can finish cautioning me, I lose my footing and almost slip backwards on the damp surface. My heart races as I feel myself falling, but Dean reacts quickly and pulls me towards him, catching me in his lap. I land awkwardly against him, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment. My body still aches dully from the attack, but I do my darndest to keep the look of pain from my face. I don’t need Dean to start fussing over me again.

“Are you alright?” Dean's voice is laced with genuine concern as he looks down at me and brushes a strand of my damp hair away, his eyes scanning my face.

I nod, feeling grateful for his quick reflexes. He helps me to sit up next to him on the wing, and I glance down at the ground far below us. A shiver runs down my spine at the realization of how high up we truly are. If Dean hadn't caught me, I would have fallen to certain injury and cracked my head open like a walnut.

“You don't realize until you get up here how massive and intimidating these planes really are,” I say softly, voicing my thoughts.

Dean's deep green eyes meet mine and we share a moment of understanding, perched atop the airplane's wing as raindrops patter around us. The tension is palpable between us, crackling like electricity in the air. “It wasn't safe for you to come out here. As you just witnessed, it can be dangerous. I told you to stay put and get some rest.”

I shrug nonchalantly, avoiding his gaze as I swing my legs back and forth over the edge of the wing. “I know, and I did manage to catch some sleep, but...” A sudden flash of lightning followed by a loud clap of thunder startles me, causing my fingers to grip the edge of the wing. But instead, they land on top of Dean's hand. “Is it really safe for us to be up here? Doesn't lightning strike metal? Won’t we be struck by lightning sitting up here?”

Dean's lips curl into a half-smile as he watches me with amusement and shakes his head. “No, metal doesn't attract lightning, but it can conduct it. That's why the roof is made of Rhino Steel, so it's completely safe during a storm. And our jets are equipped with advanced lightning protection systems, utilizing special bonding and grounding techniques. These measures ensure that even if there is a direct hit, the current will safely travel through the aircraft's exterior surfaces and dissipate into the atmosphere.” Dean explains and I nod in understanding, my anxiety easing enough that my shoulders that are bunched loosen slightly. “Did the storm wake you?”

I nod, “It did, you know I’m not fond of it. Especially when I’m alone.”

Dean nods, licking his lips as he shifts his gaze to look ahead. My fingers are still resting atop of his. It’s not until his thumb lightly brushes against mine that I notice and welcome the soothing effect it has on my nerves.

“I know.” Dean answers quietly. “Do you remember the night we had the lightning storm in Maldives while we were on our honeymoon?” My face heats up and I force myself to nod and meet Dean’s gaze when he turns his head to look at me.

“Yes, of course I remember. They said it was one of the worst storms they have ever had. It went on for hours.”

Dean hums, “Mhm, and so did we.”

I hold his gaze, we stare at one another intently. “We did. I’m almost certain that was the night we conceived DJ.” Dean smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“It could have been, or it could have been when I slow fucked you twice on the hammock.” Despite the chill of the breeze against my damp skin I feel a heat ignite deep inside and slowly start to consume me. How does he always manage to do this to me?

“I still can’t fathom what it is about thunderstorms that get you so hot and bothered.”

“Hm, I can’t really explain it,” he chuckles softly, shrugging in response. “It's hard to explain,” he admits with a sly grin, “There's just something so primal and electrifying about fucking or making love during a storm.” The memory of our steamy moments during our honeymoon flood back to me as he speaks. “The sound of the rain pouring outside, while we're hot and tangled in a sweaty mess. The sudden flash of lightning that illuminates the room for a split second giving us fleeting glimpses or each other, followed by the low rumble of thunder mixing with our quiet pants and moans. It's the feeling of being completely lost in each other, unable to focus on anything but that overwhelming pleasure building between us.” His wordssend shivers cascading down my spine, and I can't help but yearn for another passionate stormy night with him.

The longing to be in Dean's arms and feel his lips against mine consumes me. The tension and frustration between us is palpable, the desire simmering just below the surface. I can’t help but imagine him taking me right there on the wing of his beloved jet, our bodies pressed together in a passionate embrace. The thought alone is enough to make my breath quicken, and my lace underwear dampen. I know it would be reckless and could get us both into trouble, but the thrill of the possibility only makes me want it more. With each passing second that we stare at one another, I can feel my control waning, eager to surrender to Dean's touch as he drives himself deep inside me. As I gaze into those deep, emerald eyes shimmering with desire, I can see he’s thinking the same as I am. Still, the sturdy metal beneath us seems to beckon, tempting us to act on our desires despite the risks.

Fucking hell, get a grip Jeyla.I need to change the subject and fast.

I nervously clear my throat, breaking eye contact with Dean. “So... Bullseye? What's the story behind that?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood and disperse the tension.

Dean's lips curve into a confident smile as he looks ahead again. “It's my call sign,” he explains.

My curiosity is sparked and I can't resist asking, “But why 'Bullseye'?”

His response is simple, yet it carries a force of significance. “Because I never miss.”

My brows shoot up in surprise.

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