Page 26 of Come Fly with Me

Her body stiffens a little before relaxing. “It’s absolutely amazing,” she says, clearly in awe. “I…I’ve never seen anything like it.”

I smile, my mouth still at her ear. “Neither have I.”

We stand in silence, both of us ignoring the guide as she points out all the Sydney landmarks to the group. It’s windy and colder up here, and I step even closer as Taylor shivers in the breeze, my front practically pressed against her back now.

I watch as she closes her eyes, her face turning up to the sky as she takes a deep breath, letting it out in one long slow exhale.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me, Taylor,” I whisper, my mouth at her ear as I stare out at the city.

“Don’t I?” she whispers back, lowering her head and opening her eyes.

I turn my face to her, lean closer as I brush my nose against her cheek. “No,” I murmur. “I’m not that kind of guy.”

She swallows hard, her tongue poking out to lick her lips and causing me to let out a low groan that I know she hears. “You feel very dangerous to me,” she says, her words barely audible.

I chuckle softly, running my nose along the shell of her ear this time. “And you could easily take my heart and crush it,” I tell her, reminding her of the thing I’m afraid of. “The difference is, I’m willing to risk it.” Her hands tighten on the railing again as her eyes close in a slow blink. “Are you?” I add in a whisper.

She doesn’t answer, just continues to stare out at the dusky sky. I stay where I am, not saying anymore.

Our time at the top comes to an end and the guide tells us we need to start our descent. I step back from Taylor, my body immediately missing the warmth of hers. We head back the way we came, which means this time Taylor is behind me. She still hasn’t answered my last question, but I let it go, knowing that’s what really scares her as we climb down in silence.

When we get to the bottom, I take our gear back to the tour office, my eyes roving over the photos they took of everyone up on the bridge. They never asked us directly, but I still notice one of us. In it, I’m standing behind her, my arms on either side of her body as she stares out at the city. My eyes are ignoring the view though and are instead focused intently on her.

Without thinking too much about what it means, I buy the photo, slipping it into my backpack before Taylor notices. When I walk back out, she’s waiting for me, a nervous look on her face.

“Dinner?” I ask, smiling. “I know this great kebab place.”

She nods. “Sure, sounds great.”

We leave the car where it is, and I grab her hand and lead her into the Rocks tourist area. She lets me, but she’s quiet on the walk and I don’t ask her any more questions, having already spilled my guts to her enough at the top of the bridge.

Despite having spent the better part of two days with her, trying to get her to open up and just give up control and let go, she’s still a mystery to me. An intriguing one for sure, but a mystery nonetheless.

I want to know what it is that makes her tick. What it is that makes her smile, makes her laugh and makes her mad. I want to know what drives her crazy too, and I really, really want to know what she feels like beneath me, what she sounds like as I fuck her and what she looks like when I make her come.

When we reach the hole-in-the-wall shop that sells the best kebabs in Sydney, I drop her hand. “What’ll it be?” I ask.

She stares up at the menu, her eyes roaming over it before she looks back at me and says, “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

Grinning, I turn and place an order for two lamb kebabs. When they’re ready, we take them with us, both of us peeling back the paper and eating them as we slowly walk back toward the car.

“You looking forward to going back home tomorrow?” I ask.

Taylor shrugs. “I’m looking forward to flying again,” she says.

I nod. “Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s a rush, huh?” She nods, taking a huge bite of her kebab as she does. “You based in LA?” I ask, wondering whether I’ll only ever see her when we fly together or if there’s a chance we can catch up when we’re off too.

“Yeah,” she says. “Santa Monica. I moved back a few years ago after living overseas.”

I smile. “Manhattan Beach for me. We’re practically neighbors,” I add, turning to look at her. She glances up at me and I wink, reaching over to wipe some sauce off her cheek.

By the time we finish our kebabs and make our way back to the car, it’s nearly ten o’clock. After we’ve dropped the car off, we grab an Uber and head back to the hotel, neither of us saying anything as we sit in the back seat of the car.

It almost feels like something is ending tonight, as though this little bubble we’ve been living in for the past two days is about to burst. And as much as I love flying, there’s a part of me that wishes we could stay here, just the two of us, in the city I love.

We eventually reach the hotel and get out. Neither of us heads inside straightaway, even though we can both see the whole crew and several other airline crews in the hotel bar, making the most of their last night off.

“You heading in there?” I ask, gesturing toward them. None of them have noticed us standing in the shadows outside.

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