Page 94 of Wild Card
“Sorry, concentrating is hard right now. Have you heard of competence porn? It’s kind of my thing. And you, Bash, are extremely competent.”
He shakes his head, amusement curving his lips as his hands work to restrain me securely. “Just trying to keep you safe.”
“You will,” I say simply. There isn’t a single doubt in my mind that Sebastian Rousseau would do anything to keep me safe.
He leans back to assess me and gives my setup a businesslike once-over.
My quarter zip sweater is fully unzipped, showing a peek of cleavage. His eyes pause there for a moment, heat flaring in his dark irises.
“Head out of the gutter, Rousseau. I’m trying to be strapped in safely here.”
I get an eye roll as he settles in front of me and lifts an oversize headset over my head. His gaze locks on mine as he grumbles, “My head’s been in the gutter since the first time I laid eyes on you.”
Heat curls in my gut and climbs up my spine. But he pulls away, acting all casual. Like that wasn’t an incredibly bold thing to say to me.
I guess we’re both being forthright with each other today. Not wanting to mess with the flirty vibes, I settle back in my seat and watch raptly as he gets settled in beside me, those big calloused hands pressing buttons and flicking levers. He pulls his own headset on, and before I know it, he’s turned my way. “You ready?”
“Hell yeah,” I say, not able to restrain my absolutely ridiculous grin.
His gaze lingers on my face for a few beats too long, soaking me in. It makes me squirm in my seat, but then he nods—that firm, no-bullshit nod he’s always doing.
In a matter of minutes, he’s started the engine and pulls out of the hangar onto the single runway. All that’s ahead of us is bright-green grass, dark-green pines, and a blue sky.
The warm sun hits my face, and I let out a deep, satisfied sigh. This is fucking incredible.
“I haven’t asked you if you’ve done this before,” Bash says through the headset as the plane rolls along. I can hear him clearly over the loud engines.
“No, Bash. You’re my first, so be gentle with me,” I reply with a smile.
A smile that only grows bigger when I hear him grumble “For fuck’s sake” in my ears.
We continue down the runway for a few more moments, and then I hear a gravelly “Cleared for takeoff.”
I peer around us like I might never see solid ground again. He’s chatting with who I assume is Greg on the channel. Our speed continues to increase until the earth falls away beneath us, and the small plane launches seamlessly into the air.
“We have liftoff.”
Excitement fills my chest so full it might burst, and I glance out the window, watching the ground shrink. All that lies before us is wide-open sky—and what feels like endless possibilities.
“Ah!” I squeal, breathless with laughter as I clap enthusiastically. “Look at you go!”
Bash laughs now, the deep sound vibrating through my headset. “Gwen, this is my job. It would be like me clapping when you roll out a yoga mat. Even though when I see that ass in leggings, it makes me want to.”
I cough out a slightly surprised laugh at the absurd comparison. “If you don’t clap the next time I do, I will be deeply disappointed.”
His laughter rumbles again as he continues our ascent, but he never loses focus as we climb higher. I watch him. His profile framed by the blue sky beyond him.
“This is…” My eyes trace his features, just like they did that first night we met.
Masculine. That’s what I’d thought then.
Perfect, is all I can think now. The smattering of gray hair at his temple, the strong ridge of his nose.
But it’s more than that. It’s him knowing me. Knowing I don’t want roses. Or diamonds. I wantthis.
Adventures.
With him.
