Sam finally—though reluctantly—let up on his hold. While Jen’s unthinkin’ little squeak had been the most adorable thing he’d ever heard, her furious blush told him she couldn’t be further from agreeing with his assessment. Still, before he pulled away, he allowed his fingertips to feather along the backs of her hands—and his spirit to rejoice in the visible shiver with which she reacted.

Which meant he longed to do it again. Right this fuckin’ second.

Though next time, he might not stop just there.

He’d use his lips along with his fingers. Take hers beneath them, using gentle brushstrokes at first, until he couldn’t resist sweeping his tongue to taste hers—though he already knew what she’d taste like. She’d be warm as whisky but sweet as wine and have him as plastered as if he’d downed a gallon of each. And he wouldn’t regret one damned second of it. Not with her. Not with this woman who did so many things to him. Heady, giddy things.

Things he never imagined he’d feel again…

Because despite bein’ an arrogant bastard, he was also a deeply damaged one. The huddy who didn’t believe it when everyone told him this break in the States would be “good” for him, perhaps even help with his emotional healing. In truth, he’d agreed to come and do the cross-training just to shut everyone up. He’d never expected to admit they were all right. And certainly not within the first hour of his arrival in the middle of this land so foreign, it was like another planet…

Giving him the nectar that had never felt more like home.

The elixir of this woman’s gaze.

The startled light in them, torn away from him too fast that first day…not even cognizant of half the magic they held.

Not even aware of her true submissiveness.

His sweet mouse…awakening every leonine instinct inside him…

Especially in moments like this, in which he was entranced by her smile but wholly unsure what it meant. Forced to delve deeper into the nuances of her quirking lips and twinkling eyes, attempting to determine exactly how her reaction to his comeback was comin’ along. Because she did have one—of that, he was as certain as a g-force whomp at takeoff. He just wasn’t sure if he were about to be throttled or kissed.

“Never crashed, Captain? Well, there’s a first time for everything, you know.”

And then there was the concept of both.

And no, that technically didn’t qualify as a kiss—though it wasn’t a direct beating, either. In a word, it was…

Oh, fuck the words.

Fuck anything that would cage this incredible, unpredictable little mouse to something as ridiculous as words. She was far more than that. They were already far more than that. This morning, he’d flown a jet to the edge of heaven but not known half of this adrenaline, pulsing and pounding through him, calling like freedom and feeling like fire—all from just being this close to her. And damn it, she had to feel the attraction too. Hell, the journey between the hangar and here had shown him how semi-strangers could see and feel it. She had slammed on a hell of a pair of mental blinders about it. But he was prepared to yank ’em off. To fight for the right to, if that was what it took. He’d already laid down his life for much less, on too many occasions than he wanted to remember.

Jen saved him from the ugly track of that thought by suddenly rising from her chair, bringing the entire length of her body just an inch away from his.

And already, he began the battle to get to her blinders.

One simple tug and he obliterated the inch between them, fitting all of her softness against him and keeping her locked there. And by every saint he could remember, she felt good. At once, his cock swelled even more. His blood roared even louder. His arms ached to wrap all the way around her, until they were filled with what they wanted. With his fingers aligned along her spine and his face dipped to meet the upturned expectancy stamped on hers, he gave in to a new desire: his slow, cocky smile couldn’t be controlled any more than the seas her eyes evoked and the wind her hair smelled like.

“Hmmm,” he rumbled, pausing just long enough to enjoy the cute little hitch of her breath. “A first time for everything, you say?” Then jutted his chin, just far enough for stressing his point. “Like…reconsidering certain ‘personal protocols’ when a lonely pilot from across the pond simply wants the chance to know you better?”

Truthfully, he was as perplexed as Jenny looked. He’d met her lacy bits before even shakin’ her hand, and their raw sexual pull had been turning the air into a fireworks show for seven days straight. So why his sudden game with the Victorian-style wooing? A lonely pilot from across the pond? The chance to know her better? He wanted her. She wanted him. It should be that simple. It had to be that simple. He couldn’t do complicated or courtly. Before this week, he didn’t know he even had the capacity for sheer lust anymore. While this was familiar territory, it was still terrifyingly new. A stretch of life he never thought he’d have to deal with again.

Clearly, his cock had other plans.

And every drop of his bloodstream. And every neuron in his mind. And every speck of fascination in his imagination.

“You mean like…becoming friends?”

“Well…sure.” And what the fuck was that all about? No, not like “friends.” Not unless the Yanks had redefined that as two people getting naked, sweaty, and screaming together. If so, then aye, he was pure dead brilliant for the proposition. But one lengthy look at her, with such fresh hope across her face and keen interest in her eyes, and he beheld the truth of it. Her truth. This idea was the loophole around her “protocol.” A way to spend time with him but not give in to what she really wanted to do with him.

What she was just as terrified of too.

And just like that, he could’ve swan-dived off the cliffs at St. Kilda and been less stunned by the impact.

This really wasn’t just protocol for her.

This attraction had her just as malkied as him. But why? She wasn’t afraid of him, per se; that much was clear in how easily she enjoyed their banter and even counterin’ his arrogance with her adorable sass. But this, right now? The way he held her perfect little form flush to his body? It had nothing to do with the possibility of being discovered and everything to do with the intimacy itself.

Which was why he reluctantly released her. Why he followed that up with a move as awkward as it felt, halfway between a nod and a bow. Why he added an equally ridiculous smile, though he completely forgot his embarrassment as soon as she grinned in return, the edges of her lips kicked up into the blush returning to her high cheeks.

By God, she was gorgeous.

And so different from any other woman he’d ever met.

Which was why he kept up the stupid smile, even after all the huddy bowin’. Why he approached her again, scoopin’ up only her hand this time and liftin’ her soft, small fingers into the press of his lips—his soul rejoicin’ like church bells on Easter from the second she spurted out her answerin’ laughter. Which sounded even better than those damn bells…

Aye. So different.

So sweet.

So worth having to do things in different ways for her. To win her.

“If ‘friends’ is what you’re easy with, lass, then ‘friends’ it is.”

She released a long breath, though it carried the hints of a sigh—and just those traces, which he easily imagined leading to her cries of arousal, had bells pealin’ through his system all over again. This time, they as hell weren’t church bells. “Yeah. I am easy with that,” she murmured. “Thank you, Captain.” She punctuated that with a crunched forehead, instantly respondin’ to the similar look from him. “What?”

“Friends don’t call each other ‘Captain.’”

Her furrows deepened as she drew up with a look remindin’ him of fussy Mrs. Stewart from the Aldeburgh fish counter. “Well, at work on a US air base they do.”

“Then maybe we should skedaddle this show to somewhere more tidy.”

“Huh?”

He chuckled. At least her confusion turned her scowl into history—and it came with the accessory of a half smile, indicating his Scottish-isms actually fascinated her. Which of course opened his mind to all the other slang he could teach her. The secret, nasty, only-for-whispering things…

“Friends do things like have lunch together, aye?” he explained by way of furthering his quest. “So what’re you going to do about that wee beastie in your stomach, woman?”

Silently, he thanked the growl in her belly for complying with its second loud snarl within the last couple of minutes. It was goin’ on well after one o’clock, and there was no way she could deny her belly’s very vocal reminder of the fact.

After her cheeks turned a darker shade of pink, she recovered enough to jerk a distinct brow at him. Fuck him, even those auburn arches had personality all their own. Would there be an end to the nuances he discovered about her with every passing moment? He suspected the answer was no—a possibility that hardened him for her all over again.

“What the hell, Mackenna?” She added a saucy toss of her short but thick auburn waves. “You angling for ‘friends with benefits’ already?”

He closed the space between them again. How could he resist, with her lookin’ so bonnie and beguiling and confident and resplendent? “Hmmm.” With a dip of his head, he honed every speck of his attention on her. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“Is it workin’?” He hoped to fuck she said yes. If so, even if half the base intruded on them right now, he wouldn’t be able to resist conquering her mouth with his. Boldly. Brutally.

“Well.” Perhaps more than brutally—if she kept up with threading her responses with that arousing spritz of a sigh. “You’re certainly making sure I keep paying attention.”

“I’m not one for favorin’ the trite, my friend.”

“Clearly,” she laughed out. “My friend.”

He dared to slip out one hand, forming it to the side of her waist. She wasn’t a skinny thing, but nor was she filled with a thousand curves to negotiate. In short, she was the perfect medium, filled with planes and lines he couldn’t wait to explore better. Borrowing from that theme, he stated, “So why don’t we meet in the middle on this?”

“The middle?” Her laugh faded, but her smile didn’t. “Dare I even ask what that is?”

Sam glided his hold around to her back. “Why don’t we just call this…friends with possibilities?” As her mouth popped open, all but broadcastin’ her perplexity about how to answer that, he went for it and plunged on. “Possibilities we can explore over lunch.”

She slammed her mouth shut, which only seemed to serve as the cue for her stomach again. Still, even as the growl sent tangible vibrations into the air between them, she settled into a resigned stance. “That sounds like…a super intriguing proposition, Captain…”

“But?” Sam went ahead and filled in the obvious.

“But I already have a lunch date today.”

Only after she gave him the declaration, addin’ one of the most delectable bottom lip bites he’d ever witnessed, did he realize just how much of his other secret sides she’d made it okay for him to let out. Not all the way, of course, but enough that he now recognized ’em for what they were—as well as how long he’d missed having ’em out for a nice stretch. How much he now wished it wasn’t just a “stretch.” How he wished it were going to be a full, fun play date, filled with plenty of this woman’s moans and screams and acquiescences—because of what he did to her with his hands and fingers…and then his crop and flogger…maybe even his ropes and cuffs…

“A lunch date with whom?”

But first things first. Lettin’ her have the brunt of his possessive snarl, along with the glower he wasn’t about to apologize for. Whatever pissant wanker she had plans with, it was clear the “friend” wasn’t meetin’ a skoosh of her most important needs—not just the ones between her thighs, either. She was hungry for fulfillment between her ears too. Her fantasies weren’t gettin’ heeded. Her desires weren’t gettin’ sated. If they were, her gaze wouldn’t still be lookin’ like a pair of fairy bathin’ pools right now. All those eager sparkles had never come from any well-satisfied woman he knew.

“It’s…complicated.”

Strangely, her mincing answer made it easier for him to push back by a step. To lock his purpose on her with a posture consisting of his spread stance, folded arms, and narrowed stare. “I’m a big boy, mouse. I can handle complicated.” Armed with the information he was already damned certain of—that “Complicated,” whoever the fuck he was, wasn’t close to meetin’ her needs as a lover—he was as certain of those words as his own dick. Aye, the one that throbbed yet now, needing the feel of her. The one that would likely be lurchin’ like a stud stallion all day long because of her—and now, because of “Complicated.”

“You really think so?”

He tightened his glare as her features grew more animated. She was enjoyin’ the hell out of this, wasn’t she? Watchin’ him squirm just from her playful dance around the subject of “Complicated”? What the hell was she about, anyway? And just how gleeful would she be if he went ahead and trumped her fun game with his own? Wasn’t the keenest of moves, since he figured “Complicated” had been in her life a lot longer than a week, but if the guy was set on nobody trompin’ all over their lunch dates, he should’ve been meetin’ the woman’s needs a hell of a lot better than this.

Leading to the exact reason why Sam rocked back on a heel, assessin’ the woman with a hooded gaze before leveling, “If you don’t believe me, invite me along.”

He prepped his victorious smirk for the moment her jaw dropped to the floor.

And never got the chance to use it.

The only thing the woman dropped was an invisible mic, returning his lording arrogance with a stunning dose of brazen glory, imitating his pose while spreading a bigger grin across her lush lips. “I’d really love it if you came along. I think they will too.”

They?

So the victorious smirk got dingied as well.

Unless one counted the look on her face, eruptin’ into a bright and brilliant laugh, as he stood there like she’d just told him to drop trou and go full bangers on her. So the thought did have its merits, though right now only served to remind him that he still stood here in the clothes he’d been in since dawn today. “Well, all right, cannie pants,” he quipped. “Just give me ten to change, then, and—”

“Negative.”

He stopped halfway to the door. “Excuse me?”

“I said negative.” She glanced at the clock. “We’re already almost late, thanks to your own case of—how was that?—bein’ a cannie pants?” As he bore a glower-grin at her, she finished gathering up the personnel files from the table. “So I can give you five while I lock these away. Give yourself some slides of the stink-good stick and meet me out in the parking lot.”

“Hmmm.” He waggled his brows. “The parking lot.”

That earned him a giggle, along with a motion down at her tailored navy slacks and crisp cream blouse, complete with a silky bow at the apex of the V-neck that lent her a secretary-ready-to-be-unraveled vibe. “Sorry, buddy. Don’t think I can make your day in this.”

He was ready with a brazen grin. And, from the looks of the sensual smoke that appeared in her gaze, had outdone himself with the glance before even letting his cocky comeback fly.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that at all, little mouse.”