Fighting for Flight JB Salsbury (room on the broom read aloud .TXT) 📖

of my thumb, remembering what she tastes like. “Friend? Is that what you are?”

She tries to drop her chin. I hold her face to mine, locking her eyes.

“No, at least, I hope I’m more.”

“Yeah, baby, you’re definitely more. So, the answer to your question is no, I won’t get in trouble if I bring you to training. We can swing by your place, feed Dog the cat, you can change and grab some of your stuff for the next couple days.”

A slight tremor runs through her body. “Days?”

I ignore her question. After last night and this morning, with her sexy warm body pressed against mine and waking up to her giggles, her throaty moans, and my hand up her shirt, she isn’t going to be sleeping anywhere, but my bed in my arms from now on. Or as long as this lasts.

“Come to training with me. You’ll like it. You might even pick up on a few things.”

“Don’t think I need MMA skills in my everyday life at the garage.”

“True,” I say, twisting a piece of her soft hair around my finger. “But it wouldn’t hurt to know how to break someone’s arm.”

I laugh at her horrified expression.

“You can do that? Break someone’s arm?”

“Come to training and I’ll show you.”

A quick call to Guy confirms that she’s free for the day. She had a hard time explaining why she was over at my house at nine o’clock in the morning, but it seems he bought her excuse that she was here working on the Impala. Their close relationship puts me at ease. In the short time I’ve known Raven, I haven’t seen her talk on the phone to anyone outside of Eve and Guy. She’s mentioned that she and her mom aren’t close. I remind myself to ask her about that later.

Ready for the day, me showered and dressed, Raven properly caffeinated, we head to my garage. She walks to the truck and waits for me to hit the locks.

“Which one do you want to take?” I motion to all of the available forms of transportation.

Stunned, she looks up at me like a kid who just walked through the gates of Disneyland.

“I get to pick?”

“Sure, if you want to.”

“Heck yeah, I want to!”

She walks to the Harley without hesitation and hits me with the stupefying smile she did last night. So open, and trusting but also something beyond that. Believing.

I try to ignore the tightening in my chest. “The Harley it is. Grab a helmet.”

We climb on, and I try hard not to smile like a complete jackass as she wraps her arms around my waist. The weight of her head touches my back, and I could swear she was hugging me.

There’s not a guy out there that wouldn’t list having his girl on the back of his bike as one of the best feelings in the world. Her knees are at my hips and the heat of her body at my ass. Yeah, I’m smiling like a jackass all right. At least she’s behind me so she can’t see it.

Ten

Raven

Fan-freaking-tastic. That’s the only way to describe riding on the back of a Harley Blackline with my super-hot, badass boyfriend. The words tumble around in my head, making my stomach flutter, or maybe it’s the adrenaline from the ride. My guess is a combination of both.

The sun is shining, and there’s a comfortable breeze from the speed of the bike. Jonah’s massive body commands the incredible piece of machinery as we twist and turn through the Las Vegas streets. I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to drive it myself. I make a mental note to ask Jonah if he would teach me.

He takes the long way to my place, making sure to hit some of the most beautiful parts of town. On a particularly long stretch of road, I loosen my hold on his waist and tighten my knees at his hips. With a quick prayer, I throw my arms over my head, completely free, and howl like a wild dog. Jonah’s body shakes with what I assume is laughter, but I can’t hear over the roar of the bike. A little embarrassed by my blissful liberation, I wrap my arms around his body and hug him to me.

We pull up to Guy’s Garage, and Jonah parks the Harley right next to my Nova. I swing my leg over the bike and dismount while he holds it steady. Pulling my helmet off, I smooth the tussled ends of my hair. Kickstand down, I admire him as he comes off the bike. He exudes confidence and stability, like a man well aware of his body and its capabilities. His red t-shirt hugs his torso, and his jeans are baggy but tight in all the right places. He removes his helmet and walks around my car checking it out. He’s seen it plenty of times from a distance, but never close-up.

I study the look of concentration on his face. “Well, what do you think?”

His gaze snaps to mine. “What do I think? I think it’s amazing.” He bends at the waist with his hands on his hips to look in the driver’s side window. “Original interior, stock shifter, steering wheel . . . Raven, baby, you did this?”

I’m back to perma-grin status. My chest swells with pride at the surprise in his voice.

“Yeah, it took me two years saving money for parts and working on it in my free time.”

He closes the space between us and wraps his arms around my waist, placing his hands on my bottom. Just like in his kitchen, the simple touch ignites my blood and I feel something I don’t feel often. Sexy.

“I’m so proud of you, babe. This,” he gestures to the car with a nod, “is incredible. You are incredible.”

His words penetrate deep into my soul, shaking the useless rubble of the protective wall he destroyed just last night.

Pushing up to my toes, I place my hands on his chest and