magnetic, explosive, frankly wrong sex fit into that picture. They’d opened a door of sorts, but he was no closer to understanding what she needed than he had been when she’d dropped a bomb in their living room, or even back when she’d accepted the job in Washington. They’d celebrated. They’d cheered her success. Only after her initial two-month stint—longer than most, as she’d settled into a small apartment—had he truly realized that his deployments must’ve put her through hell.
And there he was, back on base, with his Evo idling in the parking lot outside the Aggressors’ flight hangar. He almost resented the intrusion work was making into his life. Whatever he and Sunny were doing, and whatever she felt was missing, wasn’t going to go away. Every second he spent away from her felt like a missed chance to win her back, even if that chance meant acting on her permission to use her, tie her up, take advantage of her.
Something was completely off the rails if that’s all they had to hang on to.
And rah, rah, the gang was all here. Captain Jon “Tin Tin” Carlisle rolled up in the only vehicle in the parking lot Dash would ever envy, a sweet-as-hell Aston Martin DBS. The kid must be slacking, though, because the car’s finish was dusty. Heather had the arrogant hotshot well and truly whipped if she could keep him that distracted.
So there it was. Dash’s attention wasn’t pulled toward Tin Tin’s car. That was only window-shopping. No, he was envious, seriously envious, of the younger man’s happiness.
Hell, he was jealous of his best friend Captain Mike Templeton and his girlfriend, the newly promoted Major Leah “Princess” Girardi.
Did everyone have to be so damn chipper and happy for a regular fucking Tuesday briefing? He could see it on their faces as they walked toward the assembly room. Dash didn’t want to get out of his Evo. Sitting there in his idling car, he admitted to himself for the first time that he didn’t even want to fly.
Temporarily. Of course. He’d be back in the air with bells on after working this out with Sunny. For the next four weeks, his brain would be on his marriage, not where it needed to be when he flew.
Yet the realization hit more forcefully than the blast of Las Vegas heat as he unfurled from the driver’s seat. Wouldn’t that be a great thing to tell his father when he visited? Sure. What a conversation. Hey, Dad. I mean, Colonel Christiansen, sir. I know you flew Desert Storm and wanted me to make you proud at the Academy—and, yeah, wow, I’m really good at it—but I don’t feel like flying today.
Shit. He was falling to pieces, and that wasn’t good at all. Nothing had been good for a long time.
“Hey, hangdog,” called Mike. “Where the hell is the smartass we know and love?”
Dash hooked a finger toward Tin Tin. “You got eyes, Strap Happy,” he said, using Mike’s call sign. “He’s here ready to give us all a ration of dog poop.”
Tin Tin, with his dark hair buzzed as if he were some Marine grunt, smiled. He was so goddamn young on a morning where Dash, only three years his senior, felt like he belonged in a nursing home.
Except when he remembered fucking Sunny. Taking her. More than that, he’d left her wanting. She would never beg, but her body had. Release. Give me release. He’d walked away—probably the cruelest thing he’d ever done to his wife. Holy fuck, that thought turned his stomach and roused his dick at the same time.
“Dog poop?” Tin Tin asked. “What are you, in third grade?”
Mike laughed. “Nah, that’s you, Dimples.”
“Heather made sure I was at least out of high school. You’re a perv for thinking a third grader would do what we get up to.” He cupped a hand to his mouth and mock whispered, “But, dude, seriously? We are supposed to be badasses .”
Princess unfastened her neon pink motorcycle helmet, did some girly flip thing to her hair, and set about pulling it into a regulation
And there he was, back on base, with his Evo idling in the parking lot outside the Aggressors’ flight hangar. He almost resented the intrusion work was making into his life. Whatever he and Sunny were doing, and whatever she felt was missing, wasn’t going to go away. Every second he spent away from her felt like a missed chance to win her back, even if that chance meant acting on her permission to use her, tie her up, take advantage of her.
Something was completely off the rails if that’s all they had to hang on to.
And rah, rah, the gang was all here. Captain Jon “Tin Tin” Carlisle rolled up in the only vehicle in the parking lot Dash would ever envy, a sweet-as-hell Aston Martin DBS. The kid must be slacking, though, because the car’s finish was dusty. Heather had the arrogant hotshot well and truly whipped if she could keep him that distracted.
So there it was. Dash’s attention wasn’t pulled toward Tin Tin’s car. That was only window-shopping. No, he was envious, seriously envious, of the younger man’s happiness.
Hell, he was jealous of his best friend Captain Mike Templeton and his girlfriend, the newly promoted Major Leah “Princess” Girardi.
Did everyone have to be so damn chipper and happy for a regular fucking Tuesday briefing? He could see it on their faces as they walked toward the assembly room. Dash didn’t want to get out of his Evo. Sitting there in his idling car, he admitted to himself for the first time that he didn’t even want to fly.
Temporarily. Of course. He’d be back in the air with bells on after working this out with Sunny. For the next four weeks, his brain would be on his marriage, not where it needed to be when he flew.
Yet the realization hit more forcefully than the blast of Las Vegas heat as he unfurled from the driver’s seat. Wouldn’t that be a great thing to tell his father when he visited? Sure. What a conversation. Hey, Dad. I mean, Colonel Christiansen, sir. I know you flew Desert Storm and wanted me to make you proud at the Academy—and, yeah, wow, I’m really good at it—but I don’t feel like flying today.
Shit. He was falling to pieces, and that wasn’t good at all. Nothing had been good for a long time.
“Hey, hangdog,” called Mike. “Where the hell is the smartass we know and love?”
Dash hooked a finger toward Tin Tin. “You got eyes, Strap Happy,” he said, using Mike’s call sign. “He’s here ready to give us all a ration of dog poop.”
Tin Tin, with his dark hair buzzed as if he were some Marine grunt, smiled. He was so goddamn young on a morning where Dash, only three years his senior, felt like he belonged in a nursing home.
Except when he remembered fucking Sunny. Taking her. More than that, he’d left her wanting. She would never beg, but her body had. Release. Give me release. He’d walked away—probably the cruelest thing he’d ever done to his wife. Holy fuck, that thought turned his stomach and roused his dick at the same time.
“Dog poop?” Tin Tin asked. “What are you, in third grade?”
Mike laughed. “Nah, that’s you, Dimples.”
“Heather made sure I was at least out of high school. You’re a perv for thinking a third grader would do what we get up to.” He cupped a hand to his mouth and mock whispered, “But, dude, seriously? We are supposed to be badasses .”
Princess unfastened her neon pink motorcycle helmet, did some girly flip thing to her hair, and set about pulling it into a regulation
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