“Sir, with regard to Chloe and me—”
The colonel waved a hand to cut him off. “I know, I know, you’ll figure out your wedding date in your own time, but, meanwhile, you don’t need pressure from me or anyone else. Duly noted, Major. I know it seems like I meddle into my officers’ personal lives; however, I speak from experience when I say a military career imposes demands that can exact a huge physical and emotional toll. Over the years I’ve found individuals who are part of a strong, supportive personal team are best positioned to meet those demands, and I think you and Chloe, together, form a strong, supportive team.”
“I agree, sir, but…” He trailed off because in addition to coming clean about the engagement, he found himself wanting to confide that Chloe didn’t see herself as “team” material, and he wasn’t sure how to convince her she was selling herself short without scaring her right out the door.
“Relax, Major. I’ve said all I’m going to say on the matter. I’m sure you’ll be relieved to know I didn’t call this meeting to discuss your private life. The actual purpose of our meeting is to advise you you’re back on flight status.”
It took him a moment to shift mental gears and follow the direction of the conversation. “I am?”
“Affirmative.” A faint smile tugged one corner of the colonel’s mouth, which told Michael the older man knew damn well how anxious he’d been to get back in the cockpit. “Infantry is running twenty-four hours of training exercises starting this evening, and requested Air Wing helicopter support. I’ll put you on the roster, if you want to log some flight time.”
“Yes, sir.” He stood, and took a step toward the door before protocol stopped him. This was a meeting with his commander, and he hadn’t been dismissed. “Thank you, sir.”
Harding laughed. “Dismissed, Major. Report to the airfield at eighteen hundred.”
Michael didn’t need to be told twice.
A couple hours later, still flying high on the prospect of being a pilot again, he pulled into his parking space at Casa Clemente and headed upstairs to grab his gear and enjoy a little down time before he had to report back to base.
Getting his clearance to fly lifted a dark cloud of uncertainly off him. Things that had seemed impossibly fucked up this morning, namely, the situation with Chloe, looked amazingly straightforward now. He still had over a week to convince her to stay—convince her to take a risk on him…and herself. This was doable. He understood subtle, nuanced tactics, but when it came to winning a battle, sometimes storming the defenses got the job done. From here on out, he was going to storm her defenses like the freaking beaches at Normandy, and he’d stay the course until she fell to him.
With his strategy firmly in place, he walked into the apartment. Chloe stood at the small table in the dining area, sorting through the mail. She wore a long, body-hugging black tank top over the white skirt he remembered from the infamous day at the massage clinic, and, hot damn, the lucky shoes. She looked up when he came in and gave him a smile, but as he closed in on her, the smile disappeared and her eyes grew wide.
Her lips parted, but he didn’t give her a chance to speak. He slammed his mouth down on hers. She staggered back a little under the force of this kiss, so he simply hauled her up, hitched her legs around his waist, and kept on walking until he’d backed her up against the wall.
She broke away long enough to mumble, “Careful.”
He used the opportunity to shove the tank top over her head. “Uh-uh. I’m done being careful. I’ve got an hour before I have to report back to the base tonight and I don’t plan to spend it being careful.”
“But—”
Covering her mouth again cured her of the desire to speak. Instead, she melted into the kiss. He shoved her bra out of his way and filled his hand with her warm, soft breast.
Her head dropped back against the wall, and she very nearly purred.
“I’m back on flight status,” he murmured against her throat.
That piece of news snapped her head up. She put her hands on his cheeks and pulled his face up as well until their eyes met. Hers were blinking back tears. “Oh…Michael. I’m so happy.”
“I’m about to make you even happier, because as far as I’m concerned, if I’m deemed fit to handle a CH-47, I’m fit to brace you against this wall, bury myself as deep inside you as humanly possible, and give you the kind of ride that leaves you sweaty and breathless and trembling from head to toe. Then I’m going to turn you around and fuck you from the other direction, just to prove to you beyond a shadow of a doubt I can make you come whenever I want, however I want. What do you say, Chloe? Would that make you happy?”
Her mouth was slack, her eyes unfocused, and she was grinding her hips against his with the quick, determined rhythm she always used when left to her own devices. “No cheating,” he admonished and reached up under her skirt to give her a playful swat on the ass. Then, because he was right there, he swept his fingers under her thong, gratified to find her hot and damp. He took that as a green light and ripped the thing off. “Seems like you’re happy.”
She gasped and buried her face in his neck. “Beyond happy. As long as Uncle Sam says you’re fit, I consider this my patriotic duty.”
“Great. Do your patriotic duty and unzip me.” He got both hands under her hips and held her up while she did the honors—unzipped his pants, reached inside, wrapped her exquisite fingers around his shaft, and pulled him out. They both looked down and watched her stroke him until he swelled to what felt damn close to the bursting point. She used the pad of her thumb to wipe a drop of moisture from the head of his cock and then looked up at him. “Condom?”
“In my wallet. Back pocket, right side. My right,” he added when she reached for the wrong pocket.
“Got it.” A second later she fished out the condom, tossed his wallet over his shoulder, and slowly rolled the protection on while he mentally recited the Oath of
Enlistment to keep from bringing things to a premature conclusion. As soon as she had him sheathed, he got a good grip on her ass, sealed his mouth over one straining nipple, and drove into her, hard and fast, so all she could do was tighten her legs around his waist and clutch his shoulders while he bounced her back and forth between his body and the wall. Hopefully the Fenwicks in 2D weren’t sitting in their dining room, watching their wall vibrate and screaming, “Earthquake!”
Not that he was averse to some screaming, but he wanted to hear it from a source a little closer to home. And while he took an obscene amount of satisfaction from every ecstatic little cry coming from Chloe’s throat, he aimed to get something more concrete out of her.
He released her nipple and growled, “Do you want to come?”
“Yes. Please. I’m so close.” Her eyes were closed, her jaw set.