WINGMAN by Emmy Curtis
Elite Ops series #2
November 3, 2017
The higher the risk, the harder the fall.
Maj. Missy Malden loves her job, her plane, and its pilot-not that she could ever let him know. He’s way too cocky, way too sexy, and in their job, any distraction is way too dangerous. But when a training exercise spirals out of control, Missy’s in the hot seat, and Conrad’s the only one who can bail her out . . .
Lt. Col. Francis Conrad has always valued Missy too much as his weapons specialist to ever tell her how he really feels. But now that she’s been accused of treason, he can’t sit back and let her fly solo. To keep her safe, he’ll put everything on the line-his career, his heart, and even his life.
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She shook her head. “I don’t see any of this ending well for us.”
“I promise I’ll provide conjugal visits if you end up in the slammer,” he said.
“You’ll provide them? Like, you’ll send someone? Do I get to pick…?”
He grabbed her chin and made her face him. “No one gets to touch you except me. Not on my watch.” He hesitated after he said the words, and she wondered if he realized how cheesy-movie he sounded.
She tried not to laugh, and his eyes narrowed at her effort. In less than a second his lips were on hers. Rampant desire flooded her body as his tongue thrust into her mouth, dominating her. Damn.
She kissed him back, matching him touch for touch, stroke for stroke. Without skipping a beat, he knelt in front of her, and put his hands around her back to stop her from moving away from him on the playground swing.
He angled his head, almost punishing her mouth with a ferocity that set her on fire. She grabbed his head and pulled him even closer, reveling in the burst of desire that turned her thoughts to mush.
His fingers grasped the bottom of her t-shirt and yanked it over her head. Her nipples hardened at the contact with the cool air.
“Jesus, you’re beautiful in moonlight,” he whispered as his lips descended to her breasts. He tongued each nipple, sending spirals of excitement through her body, and then bit them, making her back arch, and her head to tip back in surrender.
He pulled at one nipple as his hands dragged her underwear shorts down and off.
God help her; she was naked, on a swing, on Nellis Air Force Base. And she was supposed to be under house arrest. The frisson of terror and excitement set her nerve endings on fire. She felt every waft of breeze on her skin as if it were someone’s fingers, every breath she took felt as if she were inhaling freedom and inhibition.
About the Author
Emmy Curtis is an editor and a romance writer. An ex-pat Brit, she quells her homesickness with Cadbury Flakes and Fray Bentos pies. She’s lived in London, Paris and New York, and has settled for the time being, in North Carolina. When not writing, Emmy loves to travel with her military husband and take long walks with their Lab. All things considered, her life is chock full of hoot, just a little bit of nanny. And if you get that reference…well, she already considers you kin.
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