Page 37 of Aviator
“Not in this lifetime.”
“I’m going to come up with an equally annoying nickname for you,” she warns.
I feel that smile tugging at my lips again. It makes the muscles in my cheeks ache because they’ve gone unused for so long. “You can try.”
“Did they have a nickname for you when you were in the military?”
“Nah, that was never really my style.”
“Lame. I feel like that would have been a motivating factor. Some badass name, like Ghost or Demon.”
I send her a disbelieving look. “It’s not a motorcycle club where your nickname is like Diablo or something.”
“So none of your friends had one?” She pauses for a second. “I guess I can’t see Jamie with a name like that, now that I think about it.”
“I guess the only one with a nickname really is Killian. But his was only a shortened version of his name—Kill. Also, because he was damn good at it.”
“I feel like your pet name should be something disarmingly sweet. Something that would piss you off.” She trails off, deep in thought, and I’m almost scared. “I’ve got it. I think you’re going to love it. If you insist on calling me princess, I have no choice but to call you pookie.”
I frown. “No.”
Her smile is bright and unbothered. I almost miss when she was intimidated by me. Not that it lasted long. “Yes, you’re definitely a pookie. Don’t you think? I think it fits you so well.”
“I think if you call me pookie, we’re going to have a problem.”
“Then stop calling me princess.”
“No.”
“Okay then, pookie.”
Sure, I could have shut her up by throwing snow in her face or threatening to lead her in circles around the mountain, but why beat around the bush—so to speak. I grab her hand, spinning her around. The laughter dies in her throat when she sees my expression.
“You know I’m only kidding, right?” Her hands press against my chest, and she has to push up on her tiptoes to reach the bottom of my chin. “You don’t have to get all emotional about it.”
“Say it again,” I tell her.
She narrows her eyes. “Why?”
“So I can shut you up.” Her lips clamp together, and her eyes shoot wide. “That’s what I thought.”
But now that I have her so close, I’m loath to let her go. As seconds go by, her body becomes more pliant to mine. I blame the hug from earlier. Spending the night with her. Now, all I can think about is how soft her lips will be against mine.
“You’re not letting me go,” she says, her voice soft and lacking a playful tone.
“Thinking about it,” I say.
Am I imagining it, or is she leaning close to me, too? “Why do you have to think about it?” she asks.
“’Cause I really want to kiss you right now.”
Her fingers grip my jacket. “W-what?”
I brush the hair away from her face. Her lips are parted and soft with surprise. “I’ve been thinkin’ about it for a while now. Can’t seem to stop. Would you let me?” I know she’s got a fresh ex-fiancé and that she may have hated me for a while there. But I’m starting to think if I don’t kiss her soon, I may never get the chance. Despite what she said, I know we’re getting close to civilization, and if I don’t man up now, there won’t be any more time.
For a second, I think she’s going to turn me down. But then she lifts a hand to my cheek and raises higher on her toes. “Yes. I would.”
Our lips crash together, and she makes the softest sound against my mouth that I feel in my dick. My hands cup her cheeks, tilting her head so I can greedily lap at her. She nips at my lip, and I gasp, my hands switching to skim down her body to her thighs. I hitch her up, and she automatically wraps one around my uninjured leg.
