Epilogue
LINDEN
Keegan had woken me before dawn with his mouth between my thighs, until I was shaking and whispering his name into the pillow. Then he’d kissed me and murmured against my lips, “Get dressed, little dove. Got a surprise.”
My parents were in town, so they had all sorts of fun things planned for the kids—a trip to the park, an ice cream stop, and a trip to the toy store. The lure of being spoiled by their grandparents meant nobody complained about Keegan and me not being around at all.
Keegan and I had the entire day to ourselves, and I couldn’t wait to see what my husband had planned.
When we neared the airport where we first met, I tapped his shoulder and asked, “Are we going up?”
“Yup.”
I squeezed him tighter, enjoying the thrill of being on the back of his bike even more than I did when I got to see him pilot a plane.
There was nothing like being wrapped around his sexy body while his motorcycle thrummed between my legs and the wind whipped my hair behind me where it hung out the back of the helmet.
After we pulled through the gates with a wave from the security guard who knew Keegan well, he drove us straight to the hangar where he kept his personal plane. A Cessna he’d spent the past year restoring himself.
I climbed off the bike first, and he quickly followed. His arms slid around my waist, and he rested his chin on my shoulder. “She’s ready for you.”
I turned my head to look at him. “You’re really letting me fly her?”
He nodded with a sexy smirk. “I am, little dove.”
My heart raced as he walked me through the pre-flight like he had a hundred times before—checking fuel, control surfaces, tires, the works.
He used the same tone he used when he was teaching me ground school in our bed at two in the morning, while the kids were asleep.
Every correct answer had earned me a kiss.
Every perfect recitation of emergency procedures had gotten me his mouth somewhere much lower.
With that kind of incentive, I was a quick learner.
We climbed into the cockpit. I took the left seat for the first time, my headset on.
Keegan settled in on the right, running through the startup checklist with quiet focus after putting on his headset so we could communicate mid-flight.
The engine caught with a low growl, the props spinning to life, their vibrations humming through the airframe and into my bones.
I taxied us out to the runway, my grip tightening as the nerves finally caught up to me.
“Throttle up when you’re ready. Feel that lift in your gut. You’ve got this, little dove.”
His confidence in me was exactly what I needed to focus on what I needed to do next.
I pushed the throttle forward. The Cessna gathered speed, the runway blurring beneath us. When it was time, I pulled back gently, just like he’d taught me. The wheels left the ground, and then we were climbing with only blue sky ahead.
At five thousand feet, I leveled us off. “Thank you. This is incredible.”
“Great job, little dove.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” I teased before banking us left in a slow, lazy arc. There was no turbulence today. Just smooth air and the steady thrum of the engine.
He watched me the whole time, looking so proud that my chest ached in the best way.
“You’re a natural,” he praised.
I grinned at him. “Because I had the best instructor. Patient. Demanding. And he rewarded me every time I nailed a maneuver.”
His laugh was intimate. “Damn right I did.”
I shifted in the seat, my thighs pressing together. “You’re distracting me.”
“Good.” He reached over, slid his hand up my thigh, his fingers teasing the seam of my jeans. “Means you’re flying steady even when I’m touching you. That’s skill.”
I swallowed hard, keeping the wings level. “Keegan.”
“Focus, little dove,” he murmured, his thumb brushing higher before he moved his hand away.
We flew for almost an hour—lazy circles over the water, gentle turns, a few slow descents and climbs so I could feel the plane in every attitude. When the fuel gauge started nudging lower, I turned back toward the airport and touched down.
The second the engine quit and the prop spun to a stop, he unbuckled and hauled me onto his lap.
His mouth crashed into mine, and I straddled him in the cramped cockpit, my hands in his hair, grinding down against the hard ridge of him.
“Fuck, Linden,” he growled against my throat. “You flew her like you were born for it. So damn proud of you.”
I rocked against him, breathless. “Take me inside. Reward your favorite student.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. And it became a tradition that only made me want to fly even more.