Page 26 of Fly Boy
Glancing around the ground floor, I notice the small kitchenette and a stairway I assume leads to where the second bed is.
“I thought it had two bedrooms?” Wyatt mutters, setting our bags by the door.
Him and his obsession withtwo bedrooms.
I whirl around, unaware Wyatt has joined me, and eye him from across the room. “Well, she did say it was atwo-bed. Wyatt, I thought pilots were meant to be smart.”
He doesn’t answer me, scanning the ground floor quickly, thumbing toward the stairs. “So the second one is up there?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. Like you, this is my first time here,” I tease, only he doesn’t react like I expect him to. Not a quirk of his lips, not a huff in exacerbation. Instead, silently, he storms toward the narrow hall, taking the steps upstairs two at a time.
Ignoring him, I wander around the lodge, my fingers trailing over the oak carvings on the bottom of the bed, and the soft blanket draped over the sofa, lifting a box of matches resting on top of the fireplace. Several logs sit in a basket beside it, and my stomach stirs with delight. Just what I needed. A roaring fire, snuggled up in the huge bed, looking out at the stars dotting the dark night sky.
“Okay,” Wyatt grumbles, coming back downstairs and breaking me out of my fantasy for tonight. “I’ll take down here.”
“What? Why?” I practically yell, rearing my head back. If I paid for this place, I want the bed with the view of the beautiful scenery outside.
“The front door opens into the bedroom,” he states.
“I’m aware,” I reply coolly, placing my hands on my hips. “And your point?”
“It’s not safe.”
I snort. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, with no other lodges around. I’m pretty sure I’ll be fine down here.” He doesn’t look convinced, so I add, “I’ll lock the door.” I draw a cross over my heart. “Promise.”
“No.”
My mouth drops. “Excuse me.”
“No.”
I half-laugh, half-huff, doubling down. “What do you think’s going to happen? A bear’s gonna open the door and maul me in my sleep?” I smirk, and his gaze lowers to my lips.
“Phillipa,” he growls, and my body reacts the same way it did earlier when he made that sound. What is it about a grown man growling at you that is unbelievably sexy? “It’s not safe.”
My cheek burns with the heat and weight of his hand, the reminder of when it was there when we landed, his mark branded into my skin for me to relive over and over. Even ifthis lodge wasn’t safe—which it one hundred percent is—I know Wyatt wouldn’t let anything happen.
He’s already proven as much once today.
“Well, then I’ve got a big, strong man who takes on the sky gods to protect me,” I tease. He doesn’t even crack a smile, so I roll my eyes, tipping my head back to the ceiling. “Relax, Wyatt.” Lowering my voice, I murmur, “Jeez, good thing you’re getting a massage, huh?”
“I’d rather you slept upstairs, Miss Cartwright.”
Miss Cartwright. So, we’re back to that then.
“And I’d rather people didn’t write bullshit articles about me, but we don’t always get what we want,” I say with a bite in my tone.
Wyatt’s jaw clenches, and he snatches my bag off the floor. I dart forward and try to take the handle from him. “Wyatt, you’re not the one in charge here. You’re not my father.”
The blue in his eyes darkens as he looks down at me, his gaze filled with something I’ve never seen from him before. I suppress a shiver, my tongue darting out to lick my suddenly dry lips. Like a shark smelling blood, he zeros in on the movement, his hand coiled around my bag strap clenching.
I try to pull my bag from his grip, but he tugs it, bringing me closer. It feels like the fireplace is roaring with flames, the temperature in the cabin an inferno as I find myself watching his throat work on a swallow. I want to feel what it would be like if my lips were there when he did that. Just lean up and press against him…
I’m being reckless. I want something I can’t have. I want to see how far I can push him until he snaps and gives in to what we both want.
“That smart mouth will get you in trouble one day,” he practically whispers, and I can almost hear the promise ofpunishment in his words. Or maybe I’m hoping there’s one there.
“What are you going to do?” I goad, noticing his nostrils flare as I lightly press into him. “Spank me?”
