Henry had left on a bus the morning after our little hookup. He’d knocked on my door to tell me he was leaving, but I hadn’t even had the balls to open it. It was safe to say I was freaking the fuck out. He’d texted me just after I’d landed with Jessica and Tabitha in tow. It was short and to the point but still very much Henry.
How’d the flight go, Maverick?
I would have laughed if I’d been able to remember how to amongst the chaos in my mind.
What the hell had I done, opening myself up to him like that? It was a casual thing. Casual sex. Except nothing was casual about Henry.
Me: Hi. Tests?
Henry: I usually wouldn’t share such personal information with an employee. Do you have any plans to utilize this information?
I blinked down at my phone. He could not be serious.
I quickly began swiping my fingers across the keyboard. I still hadn’t repaired my broken screen, but Henry had left a business phone complete with his number programmed into the contacts on my seat in the cockpit the morning after he’d left. I assumed he’d gotten the idea right about the time he’d realized he’d never asked for my phone number. But it wasn’t like I’d asked for his. I hadn’t needed it since I wouldn’t be calling him and we went through Jackson for travel arrangements.
Not that there had been any of those in the last week, either. At the rate I was going, I’d have to volunteer to fly Jackson’s charters for free just to keep my hours up—and my sanity intact. I loved getting a paycheck, but I was a pilot because I wanted to fly, not sit around watching daytime soaps while waiting for my phone to ring.
I never should have taken the job with Henry.
And I definitely shouldn’t have kissed him, gotten him naked, and then let him blow me.
And I really shouldn’t have wanted more of that so badly I couldn’t sleep at night. Honestly, it pissed me off.
So, over the last week, I’d done the smart thing. I’d avoided him. Every text. Every call. That is until I’d caved, jumping at my very first excuse I had to text him. And I was already regretting it.
Me: Are you kidding me right now? You should probably share this information with your EMPLOYEE regardless how I plan to UTILIZE it. I came in your mouth last weekend without a condom. I don’t think a simple, “Hey I don’t have HIV,” is too much to ask.
I watched the bubble icon at the bottom of my screen blink on and off for several minutes. He was typing. And typing. And, five minutes later, still typing. I expected one hell of a long message.
Henry: I’m clean. I’ll have my doctor send you proof.
“Shit.” I raked an angry hand through my hair. That wasn’t a long message, which meant he’d spent all that time typing and deleting and then retyping that crap.
Me: What did the first draft of that message say?
Henry: Do you need anything else, Evan?
Yep. It was official. I hated seeing my name typed.
Me: What did the first draft of that message say?
Henry: Why does it matter?
Because I’m looking for a reason to keep talking to you. Oh, and I feel guilty for avoiding you all week. And for currently being a dick because I have no fucking idea how to handle the way I’m feeling.
I groaned at myself.
Me: I’m sorry, okay? Any chance you’ll be needing a pilot soon? Maybe we can grab a coffee and talk.
Henry: Talk?
Me: Talk, Henry. AKA: CASUALLY converse.
Henry: How casual are we talking here? Tic-tac-toe on a paper tablecloth? Or bring my STD results and meet you at a seedy motel?
Me: Wow. Okay. Well, clearly, casual is off the table. Just send over the results when you get a chance.
Henry: Jeez, don’t be so sensitive. Fine, here’s your original message… I’ll be passing through San Fran for a few hours tomorrow night. I’d be happy to hand-deliver the results myself.
Me: Bullshit. That’s not long enough.
Henry: Oh, but, Evan, we already established that length is not an issue for me.
I barked a laugh and clapped a hand over my mouth, trying to cover my huge smile even though no one was around. I didn’t want to admit how much I was enjoying finally talking to him again—even if it was just through a text.
Me: Don’t worry. Haven’t forgotten.
Henry: Have you tried to forget?
The corners of my mouth curled upward. That sexy bastard was fishing. Baiting me with a simple question that would give him clear insight into where I stood in regards to him. The only problem was that I didn’t have the answer. It was a tug-of-war that had been battling in my head since we’d met. The only thing I knew for sure was that I wanted him. My cock grew hard if I so much as thought about him. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d jerked off to the memories of our night together.
That’s where I stood in regards to him. Plain and simple, I wanted him. I might have been straddling some other lines in the process of wanting him. Mainly, the ones that would explain why I didn’t have to be pumping my dick for him to infiltrate my mind.
But I could deal with that later.
Me: Yes. I’ve tried a lot, actually.
The icon at the bottom blinked to show that he was typing…and probably deleting. I watched for a few more seconds before putting him out of his misery.