Fighting for Flight by JB Salsbury (best books for students to read .txt) 📗

I press my ear to the door. “You sure?”

“Yes, I just . . . um, these shoes are really high and your tile is slippery.”

It’s not right, but the thought of Raven, as hot and graceful as she is, sliding around off balance in the bathroom, makes me laugh.

“Are you ready? I’m coming out,” she says, a nervous tremor in her voice.

There’s a click from the lock, and I step back. The door slowly opens and the bright light from the bathroom bathes Raven’s silhouette in an ethereal glow.

Holy shit. My jaw drops and I stare in awe.

She’s dressed in a light purple, floor-length gown that has a slit all the way up the side. Standing with one leg slightly cocked, her entire upper thigh is exposed. My gaze follows the line of her tan leg to the sexiest pair of strappy silver stilettos. The dress is hot, but my mind imagines her in nothing but those shoes. I open my mouth to tell her how beautiful she looks, but the sight of her breasts robs me of the words—their full swells pushed up in offering, begging for my lips. My mouth goes dry.

“Do I look okay?” She runs her palms down the front of her dress self-consciously. Typical Raven. An absolute knockout and she has no idea.

“Baby, you’re a vision. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in all my life.”

Her eyes look down the length of her body then lock on mine. “Thank you.” She takes a step towards me then freezes mid-step. “Oh, you haven’t seen the back yet.”

The back? There’s no way the back could be better than what I’m looking at right now.

Her eyes sparkle and she gives me a mischievous grin. Slowly, she turns and my breath catches in my throat.

There is no back.

The birds in her tattoo fly in formation from her hip to her shoulder for all to see. Her hair is tied up loosely in an elegant, messy mass of shiny dark locks, giving me an unobstructed view. My eyes travel the expanse to the two dimples visible above her perfect ass. I reach down to adjust myself in my pants. Suddenly my collar isn’t the only thing that’s tight.

Placing her hand on her cocked hip, she looks over her shoulder. “You like?”

“I . . . uh, yeah.” I clear my throat. “I more than l-like. It’s . . . You’re amazing. You l-look.” To save myself from further embarrassment due to my sudden case of stutter-mouth, I shut up.

Stepping to her, I start at her hip and run my finger along the path of her tattoo. Mesmerized by the softness of her skin, I watch tiny goose bumps follow the line of my finger. I press my lips to her shoulder. She drops her head to the side, exposing the full length of her neck. I ghost a kiss against her skin, followed by my tongue. The combination of her sweet taste and pear smell makes me hungry for what’s beneath the dress. My teeth scrape along her sensitive throat, and I bite with gentle pressure. She leans back and a moan bubbles up from her chest, escaping her lips in a purr.

“You are absolutely gorgeous,” I whisper against the spot where I bit her.

“Mmm, thank you.” Her voice has taken on a breathy quality that has me straining against my slacks. “You look very handsome too. I like the black on black. It reminds me of Clark Kent.”

I kiss her neck once more, and pull back. “Clark Kent? He was a dorky news reporter. He wore starched white shirts with bow ties and shit. I think he even sported a pocket protector.”

Giggling, she turns to face me. It’s then that I notice her face. She usually wears minimal makeup, but tonight it’s heavier in all the right places. Her eyes are rimmed with a smoky color that highlights the aquamarine. Her cheeks dusted with pink, and her lips. Holy hell. Those lips.

“Wait, I thought Clark Kent was the hot one.”

I’m focused on her shimmering, pink glossed mouth as she talks.

“You know the one who wears black all the time and drives the cool car?”

“Huh?” I swallow hard, caught up in the sensory overload that Raven is dishing out in buckets.

She places her soft hand against my cheek. “Um . . . Clark Kent?”

Fuck, that’s right. I forgot what we were talking about.

“Bruce Wayne, baby. Batman.”

“Yes! You’re right. Bruce Wayne. He’s the hot one that all the girls—”

I can’t take it anymore and crash my lips against hers. Her blatant sex appeal and childlike innocence does me in. Her lip gloss tastes like marshmallow and her mouth like peppermint. I suck at her lips, and she buries her hands in my hair, holding me to her.

My girl.

I run my hands over the dress, feeling her nipples pucker beneath the fabric. My hands grip at it with impatience, gently tugging, knowing what’s underneath is so much softer. There’s no way we’re going to dinner. Nothing is as important to me in this moment than getting my girl naked underneath me.

“Jonah,” she says breathlessly between kisses.

“Mmm?”

“The door.”

“Hmm?”

“The doorbell’s ringing. Our ride’s here.”

“Don’t give a shit,” I growl and walk her backwards towards my bed.

Her legs hit the bed, stopping our progression. I hold her hips and grind my now painfully hard erection against her. She tilts her head and deepens the kiss. Fuck yeah. My girl, always so ready.

My phone is ringing in my pocket and the doorbell won’t quit. I groan, annoyed, but never give up her mouth. This is happening. Now.

She laughs and presses her palms against my chest. Reluctantly, I pull back.

“Jonah, we need to stop.” Her raspy voice and traveling hands betray her words.

“Not going anymore.” I’m kissing her neck at my spot, hoping she gives up on the idea and gets naked soon.

“It’s a limo, right?” There’s a smile in her question.

I step back to meet her eyes. “Yeah, it’s a limo.” I smile. “Why?”

She shrugs her shoulders