Page 13 of Life To My Flight

Knowing fighting with him about this right now was futile, I gave him my back and walked to my panty drawer.

Smiling devilishly, I opened the door with my sexy panties and pulled out the one pair that I knew would drive him wild.

They were white lace boy shorts that were see through everywhere but the crotch.

They’d be uncomfortable as hell to wear to work today, but knowing that he’d know that I was wearing them would be worth it.

I bent down, most likely giving him a good peak of what he gave up, and stepped into my pantie. Slowly.

I heard his sharp inhalation as he saw what I’d intended him to see, and I smiled.

I shucked the shirt from my body, tossed it on the dresser, and reached for the bra that was laying in the drawer beside where the panties had just been.

It wasn’t the one that matched the panties, but a deep midnight blue.

It wasn’t lace, but it was still pretty.

I didn’t do uncomfortable bras nor uncomfortable shoes. Those were two things that I couldn’t handle.

The scrub top came next, followed by the scrub pants.

I shimmied my ass once I had them on to make sure I could handle the panties, and was satisfied when they didn’t ride up to no man’s land.

I walked to the end of the bed, grabbed my shoes, and sat down on the chase beside Cleo.

He shifted uncomfortably as I sat and shoved my feet into the tennis shoes.

“Let me grab my lunch and we can go,” I said, before darting from the room.

I only ever left myself twenty minutes to get ready and leave. It was always a rush in the morning.

I assumed Cleo had to be in at the same time I did, and I didn’t even know where he had to go.

He’d probably be late. But I wouldn’t.

“Heh,” I grunted as I grabbed my salad out of the fridge.

“What?” Cleo asked from behind me.

I turned, surveying him from head to foot.

“Do you wear normal clothes under your flight suit?” I asked.

He nodded his head. “Yep.”

My brows furrowed. “Well shit.”

I’d been hoping for something more risqué, kind of like him free-balling it.

He nodded. “You’re eating a salad?”

I looked down at the unappetizing pile of lettuce covered in nonfat ranch and grimaced. “Yes.”

My workouts had seen a significant drop since I’d moved here.

I never left myself enough time in the mornings to work out and, in the evenings, I was always too tired. I very rarely had a day off that I didn’t have eighteen million things to do, so my last resort was to start eating healthy.

After having to go up two jeans sizes, I knew I had to do something.

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