Chapter 22

22

DEAN

I t had been a brutal evening. Sarah was insufferable. And insufferably gorgeous. Did she have any idea how beautiful she was? I doubted it.

She was too rough and tumble to care. Somehow, she always looked effortlessly stunning. That was just good luck and better genetics. I glanced over at Mo. He was a big, burly dude. She certainly didn't get her looks from him. Sarah was petite and feminine, even if she downplayed it at work.

Over the course of dinner, I got a glimpse of her relationship with her father. I had heard stories about Sarah over the years, but it was always told from a father's point of view with lots of pride and occasionally some frustration. It was nice to see.

Mo was an attentive father. I knew how much he cherished his oldest daughter. She was and always had been his pride and joy. It scared the hell out of Mo that she wanted to fly fighter jets, but I knew he had been preparing his whole life for her to move into this program. He'd known this was Sarah's fate ever since she was ten years old obsessing over watching Cessnas take off at the local airport. I had known it too because Mo used to worry aloud to me over it while we sipped whiskey or bourbon.

Now? Mo had made his peace with it. He was proud of her. I could see it in the way he watched his daughter's every move. He was giving himself peace of mind by making sure she had the best training. He couldn't stop her from chasing her dreams, but he could make sure she had every bit of knowledge and training to do it well and safely.

Would he be as proud if he knew she'd been putting moves on her superior and her mentor? And her father's best friend?

Not an answer I wanted to find out.

Throughout dinner, I tried to focus on Mo's stories, but she was making it difficult for me to think straight. She had this way of being the center of attention without even trying. It drove me nuts. The way she shot me those challenging looks, her foot running up my leg under the table, her audacity? She was one of a kind.

I finished my dessert first and decided it was my turn to step away from the table. I excused myself. My heart pounded in my chest as I made my way to the restroom. Splashing cold water on my face, I stared at my reflection in the mirror, trying to regain composure. Sarah had always been a firecracker, but tonight she was pushing all my buttons in the most tantalizing way possible. I couldn't deny the attraction I felt toward her, but I knew crossing that line would be disastrous.

So would coming in my pants right at the table in front of her father. I was a risk taker but I didn't have a death wish.

I adjusted myself in my pants, my cock extra sensitive after all the teasing. Sarah was beyond anything I had experienced before. She knew I couldn't touch her, and she was torturing me. As usual, I found myself arguing with my conscience. Just a quickie. Just something to take the edge off.

No one would know.

Stop it.

I took a few deep breaths before I returned to the table. Sarah's gaze locked onto mine, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes that sent a shiver down my spine. The conversation continued, but tension continued to hang in the air between us. When her foot tried to return to my thigh, I firmly pushed it away. I was done playing around in front of her father like this. The old man's heart would break if he caught us. And I would get thrown into a jet engine by the general.

She frowned at me and subtly adjusted her position as if she were uncomfortable.

Good. I hoped she was as wet as I was hard. She was playing with fire, and we were both burning up. Her cheeks were a little flushed as she took a bite of her dessert. Her pink tongue lapped out to lick away some of the cream from her lip. I damn near growled at the sight. Every time our eyes met, it was as if electricity coursed through my veins.

Mo insisted on paying the check, which made me feel even shittier for getting a foot job from his precious daughter. Guilt nagged at me, but I was so turned on I could barely think. We all walked outside together and I forced myself to seem calm and normal. I was looking forward to getting back to my house and free of the little vixen. Sarah had me all twisted up inside.

"Thank you for dinner," I said to Mo and extended my hand. "It was good to see you."

"Thank you for taking care of my daughter." Mo's sincere grin was like a dagger in my heart.

"Of course." I nodded, doing my best not to make eye contact with the man.

"Dean, would you mind taking Sarah back to base? I'd appreciate the peace of mind knowing she got home safely."

Motherfucker.

Sarah protested immediately. "I'd rather take a cab or a ride share, Dad."

Mo insisted, and we both knew it was a fight we wouldn't win. "No arguments. Dean will take you. It's no problem, right?"

I couldn't think of a decent reason to say no. "No. Why would it be a problem?"

He nodded. "Exactly."

She let out a long sigh and I stood back while she gave her father a hug. "I'm fine, Dad. You don't have to pop in to check on me. I'm a big girl."

We said our goodbyes to Mo until next time he was back in town, which wouldn't be until after survival training. Then we walked to my truck, neither of us looking at one another.

Sarah got in the passenger seat, awfully quiet now. It was all fun and games when she knew there was nothing I could say or do to call out her flirting. But now, it was just the two of us.

"What is it with men and big trucks?"

I chuckled as I started the engine, the familiar rumble soothing my nerves slightly. "Some men like the power, the strength. Makes them feel like they can handle anything that comes their way," I replied, pulling out of the parking lot.

Sarah leaned back in her seat, her eyes focused on the passing scenery outside. "You know," she began, her voice low and sultry. "I think it's more about compensating for something they lack."

I shot her a sideways glance. "Maybe for some guys. Keep in mind, my other car is usually a jet, so this truck isn't much compared to that."

Sarah laughed. "Good point."

She leaned forward, turned on the radio, and cranked it up. Then she rolled the window down, kicked off her shoes, and stuck her bare feet out the window. The wind rustled the skirt of her dress, pushing it back and revealing more thigh than I could handle.

I couldn't tell if she was trying to seduce me or if this was just her being her and the seduction was a side effect. She was a vision of temptation, carefree and languid in the humid Mississippi evening.

She glanced over at me, her lips forming the words of the song playing on the stereo. She caught me staring, and instead of pulling her dress down, she pulled it up further, showing off a bare hip and the strap of a thong. I wanted to rip it off with my teeth.

I fixed my eyes on the road, gripping the steering wheel harder than necessary. This was Mo's daughter.

"Have you always been such a stickler for the rules?" Sarah asked, her voice teasing.

I didn't answer. Following the rules was drilled into me when I was her age. Following the rules had kept me alive. But I'd never wanted to break them more than I did right then. It would be so easy. And so good.

And so wrong.

"Pull the truck over," Sarah said suddenly.

I shot her a look. "What?"

"Pull. The truck. Over."

I hit the brakes and took the dirt road that led into the woods. I had no idea if it was a driveway, a park, or a road to nowhere. It seemed like nobody was around for miles. As soon as the tires stopped rolling, she unclipped her seatbelt and turned to face me.

"What are you doing, Sarah?" I asked, my voice strained.

"Nothing."

"Sarah, you have to stop this," I said with very little conviction in my voice.

"Stop what?" She leaned in closer, her breath warm against my cheek. "What do you think I'm doing, Dean?"

"You know exactly what you're doing," I growled.

She smirked, her eyes dark with desire. "I thought you got your kicks breaking barriers and testing new things."

"Sarah, this is different. You're my student. I'm your mentor. This is?—"

"Wrong?" she finished for me.

I shook my head, trying to regain some semblance of control. "Enough is enough. This can't happen."

She leaned back, frustration and disappointment flashing across her face. "Why not? Because you think I'm just a kid? I'm not, Dean. I know what I want. And I know you want it, too."

I looked into her eyes, feeling the weight of her words. "It's not about that. Your father trusts me."

"Oh, it sounds like you'd rather be in this truck with him right now." She shot me a look.

"You know that's not true," I said.

I could see the struggle in her eyes, the conflict between her desires and the lines she knew she shouldn't cross. It was an alluring sight, but I knew I had to put an end to this before things went any further.

"Sarah, we both know we can't do this." I took a deep breath, trying to maintain my composure. "I'm supposed to take care of you."

She sighed, running her fingers through her hair. "Technically, you would be taking care of me. I have a little ache. I think you could make it better."

"Sarah, this is not a good idea," I said, even as my resolve faded.

She leaned over once again. "Do you know how many bad ideas have turned out to be very good? I mean, think about what you do for a living. You push aircraft beyond what people say the limits are. Is that a good idea? Definitely not. But does it work out? Do you get a thrill when you accomplish something incredible? Something you probably shouldn't have done?"

"It is not even the same thing," I said with a shake of my head.

"You're right." She laughed. "Me and you doing whatever this is, isn't going to result in the loss of a ninety-million-dollar jet and potentially your life. I mean really, put it into the grand scheme of things."

She was killing me. How could I argue with her reasoning? We were here. We were both ready and willing.

"Dammit," I muttered.