Lila
Langley AFB
I exhale in satisfaction as I sit back on my black t-strap heels.
As I stand, I straighten the light pink pencil skirt I’ve paired with a cream scoop-neck, sleeveless blouse and throw my curled hair over my shoulder before looking around.
My office is finally starting to look less like a hastily assigned workspace and more like somewhere I actually want to spend time.
The desk, a standard-government-issue monstrosity, is still here—but Major Townsend did say he could get it removed if I don’t want it.
I don’t. Someone should be here soon to grab it.
I’ll bring the antique writing desk—the one I had in my old office—and it will go a long way in making this space feel more like mine.
I was able to stuff my oversized brass-and-tan leather desk chair, two blush linen wingback chairs, a round brass end table, and a large moody Oriental rug into my Telluride and a few members of the ground crew helped me carry them in.
This room is about the same size as my old office so everything should fit nicely.
It’s just much more sterile under the fluorescent lighting.
A large wicker basket sits in the corner, filled with books, my degrees framed since people do that, and frivolous decor I’ll eventually put on the built-ins in here.
I brought a few plants that will hopefully get enough light from the one lonely window, but at least I have a window.
I still need something for the walls, maybe some photos of the jets in flight?
Right now, they’re bare except for a dry-erase board covered in my to-do list and a schedule for upcoming airshows.
I’m in the middle of arranging the books on my shelf when I hear a knock at my office door.
“Come in,” I call over my shoulder, expecting it to be someone here to remove the desk.
Instead, Logan steps inside, his sage-green flight suit clinging to his muscular frame. The sight of him is enough to make my pulse skip. He closes the door behind him, the click soft but deliberate.
“Hey, you,” he says, offering me a beautifully unguarded smile.
I arch a brow, trying not to let my face betray how much I love the way he looks at me. “What’s up?”
He steps closer, his eyes flicking to the newly arranged space before landing back on me. “You disappeared after the morning briefing. Figured I’d come check on you. Didn’t realize you were in here playing interior decorator.”
I glance around at the improvements I’ve made. “I like to be comfortable where I work.”
His gaze drops to the navy-blue throw blanket draped over the back of my chair. “I can see that.”
Before I can respond, he takes another step forward, closing the distance between us. My back brushes against the edge of the desk as he leans in, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Door’s closed,” he points out.
My breath catches. “It is.”
His fingers brush against my hip, his touch light but purposeful. “Which means I can do this…”
He kisses me, slow and deep, like he’s been thinking about it all morning. I sink into him, my hands finding his shoulders as he presses me just slightly against the desk. His flight suit is cool under my palms, a stark contrast to the warmth of his body beneath it.
We’re both breathless when he finally pulls away, his forehead resting against mine.
“That was a risky move,” I murmur, my fingers still curled around the fabric of his uniform.
He smirks. “I like a little risk.”
I shake my head, laughing softly. “You’re impossible.”
He shrugs, his eyes full of mischief. “And yet, you keep me around.”
I roll my eyes, but I don’t move away. “Did you actually come in here for a reason, or was that it?”
“As much as I enjoyed that,” he says, taking a step back. “I do have a proposition for you.”
I cross my arms, arching a brow. “Oh?”
He grins. “How do you feel about a private tour of my jet?”
My lips part in surprise. “And here I was thinking you retired as a tour guide.”
His smirk deepens. “This is different.”
I shake my head, amused. “Right.”
His gaze softens, and he leans in just enough that I catch the faintest scent of sandalwood. “Is that a yes?”
I don’t even have to think about it. “That’s a yes.”
His grin is pure satisfaction. “Come on, then,” he says, reaching for the door. “Let’s go introduce you to Odin.”