Page 11 of The Bro-code

I don’t even indulge the dirty fantasy of her on her knees, begging for way more than a cinnamon roll, that immediately comes to my mind. The past few months, at school things have been so rough that I hid in my room after practice. The training camp with the Heroes didn’t help, I was always too tired to go out. This means that I’ve been spending an inordinate amount of time alone. There’s definitely some truth to the saying that idle hands do the devil’s work. All I’ve been doing alone in my room has been jacking off. I shake my head to banish the image of the blonde hottie on her knees, begging for my cock. It’s obvious that I’ve been watching too much porn.

She’s so beautiful though, I can’t get over it.

The hopeful look in her eyes after she asks if I’d consider sharing gives me an idea.

“We could share,” I smile. “But that’s an oddly intimate thing to do with someone without knowing their name. I’m going to give you half cinnamon roll,” I say, already planning to offer her the entire treat. “If you tell me your name. I’m Ryker and you are?”

She opens her mouth to say something, and I wonder if her name is as sexy as she is. Something like Scarlett or Isabella.

“DAMN, LOOK AT ALL THAT FREE FOOD!”

The beautiful stranger’s response is covered by several loud, excited voices as the first class lounge is invaded by a swarm of men and women in military uniforms.

Chatter erupts from all angles as we’re practically surrounded by soldiers loading their plates with food as if they hadn’t had a meal in a while.

“God,” a brawny guy, with what I’m almost sure is a corporal rank, moans biting into a triangle of club sandwich. “This is heaven. After nine months eating DFAC food, this shit is like Gordon Ramsey made it.”

An older guy scolds him jokingly. “Corporal Bull, I expected better from you. Please find Sergeant Knox and keep your men under control. Let’s not make the airline regret giving our platoon an upgrade to first class. May I remind you that most of our company is on a chartered flight, and they won’t be enjoying this level of pampering?”

The corporal rubs the back of his neck, his head bowed guiltily. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir. I just got excited. When we were volun-told to stay behind and not fly with the rest of the company, I never expected that we’d luck out on our way back to Star Cove. I’ll make sure everyone behaves.”

I watch the exchange, distracted by the crowd of service members, and my fingers loosen their grip on the cinnamon roll. I don’t even realize that it lands back on the serving plate I just got it from.

“Cinnamon rolls, score!” Someone yells, delighted.

But it isn’t my favorite blonde passenger; it’s someone in an army ACU.

The girl and I watch in shock as the private who just grabbed the last cinnamon roll sinks his teeth into it.

“Why did you drop it?” Hottie seethes. “We were gonna share it, and now there’s no more. It’s almost time for my flight to start boarding, and even if I wanted to go in search of a cinnamon roll—or anything else since the food is all gone—there’s no time.”

She has a point. “I’m sorry. I hope I can make it up to you… what did you say your name was again?”

That irresistible pout of her lips again. “I didn’t say. And after you just lost us our cinnamon roll? You don’t deserve my name.”

Didn’t I just say that she looks even hotter when she’s mad?

“Oh, come on.” It's my turn to low-key beg. “That’s a little harsh. We got off on the wrong foot. Tell me your name; I told you mine.”

A little smile curves the sides of her lips. “Ha, nice try. What did you say a second ago? You snooze, you lose. Sorry, Ryker. You’ve lost your chance to make my acquaintance. I need to go to the bathroom before boarding. See you never.”

I watch her walk away and the only thing that keeps my disappointment in check is that I have five and a half hours to turn this around.

CHAPTER 3

MILE HIGH TROUBLE

BAY

Iexhale slowly as I stare at my reflection in the mirror of the first class lounge bathroom.

My face looks flushed, and I will my racing heart to slow its pace. What the fuck just happened?

The breakup with Topher must be messing with me more than I thought; there’s no other explanation. I mean, why else would I react this way to my fingers brushing against some stranger’s?

It doesn’t matter that the stranger in question is hotter every time I look at him.

The second we touched, it was as if there was an invisible line connecting my fingers to all sorts of inappropriate places.

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