Grounded in Desire

Zara Blackwood's perfectly manicured nails dug into her palms as she watched Captain Dante Castellan stride through the airport terminal like he owned the place. His broad shoulders filled out his crisp pilot's uniform in a way that made her simultaneously want to throttle him and—no. She cut off that dangerous train of thought immediately. "Incoming asshole at three o'clock," her fellow flight attendant, Margot, muttered beside her. Zara straightened her spine, smoothing down her navy pencil skirt. In the six months since Dante had transferred to their airline, he'd made her working life a special kind of hell. Always finding fault with her safety demonstrations, criticizing her passenger management, and worst of all, looking at her with those devastating amber eyes that seemed to see right through her professional facade. "Ms. Blackwood." His deep voice rolled over her like expensive whiskey—smooth with a dangerous burn. "I trust you reviewed the weather reports for today's flight?" She forced her lips into a saccharine smile. "Of course, Captain Castellan. Unlike some people, I actually prepare for my job." His dark brows rose, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. God, even that was attractive. The man was six feet three inches of pure, irritating masculine perfection with his olive skin, jet-black hair, and a face that belonged on magazine covers rather than in cockpits. "Interesting. Then you're aware we're flying directly into a storm system?" "I'm aware we're flying around it, as per the flight plan I reviewed an hour ago." She met his gaze steadily, refusing to be intimidated. Something flickered in his eyes—surprise, maybe even respect—before his expression hardened again. "The system's moved faster than predicted. We may need to divert." "Then I'm sure you'll handle it with your usual arrogance—I mean competence." Margot coughed to cover a laugh, but Dante's eyes narrowed dangerously. He stepped closer, and Zara caught his scent—cedar, leather, and something uniquely him that made her treacherous body respond. "Careful, Ms. Blackwood. That sharp tongue of yours might get you into trouble one day." "Is that a threat, Captain?" "It's a promise." His voice dropped an octave, and heat flared between them before he turned on his heel and strode toward the gate. Zara released a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "Girl, the sexual tension between you two could power a small city," Margot observed. "Just sleep with him already." "I'd rather sleep with a cactus." "Sure, honey. Keep telling yourself that." * * * The flight started smoothly enough. Zara moved through the cabin with practiced efficiency, serving drinks and reassuring nervous passengers as they skirted the edge of the storm system. She'd just finished the beverage service when the plane hit turbulence. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Castellan. We're experiencing some unexpected weather. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts." His voice over the intercom sent an involuntary shiver through her. Damn him. The turbulence worsened, and Zara gripped the nearest seatback as the plane bucked violently. Through the window, she could see nothing but angry gray clouds and snow. This wasn't the predicted storm path at all. She made her way to the cockpit, knocked, and entered when the co-pilot admitted her. "What's happening?" she demanded. Dante didn't look at her, his hands steady on the controls despite the plane's violent movement. "Storm cell came out of nowhere. We're diverting to Cascade Regional." "That's in the middle of nowhere!" "Would you prefer we continue into the worst blizzard in a decade?" His tone was clipped, professional, but she could see the tension in his shoulders. Another violent shake sent her stumbling. Dante's hand shot out, catching her waist and steadying her. The heat of his touch burned through her uniform. "Sit down and buckle up," he ordered. "This is going to get rough." For once, she didn't argue. * * * The landing at Cascade Regional Airport was one of the most terrifying experiences of Zara's life. The tiny regional airport was barely equipped for a plane their size, and the visibility was near zero. But Dante handled the aircraft with a skill that made her grudgingly admit—only to herself—why he was considered one of the airline's best pilots. When they finally touched down, the passengers erupted in applause. Zara's legs shook as she stood to help with deplaning. The airport was chaos. Hundreds of stranded travelers from multiple diverted flights crowded the small terminal. The snow was falling so thick and fast that the runway they'd just landed on was already invisible. "Listen up, crew," Dante addressed them at the gate. "The airport hotels are completely booked. The airline's working on accommodations, but it might take time. Nobody goes outside—it's a complete whiteout." Over the next two hours, Zara helped manage increasingly frustrated passengers while the skeleton airport staff struggled to cope. She was exhausted, her feet ached, and she wanted nothing more than a hot shower and a bed. "Ms. Blackwood." Dante appeared at her elbow. "I need to speak with you privately." She followed him to a quiet corner, acutely aware of his presence beside her. "The airline managed to find one accommodation option," he said. "A cabin about ten miles from here. The shuttle driver says he can make one more run before the roads become impassable." "Great. I'll grab my crew—" "It's a one-bedroom cabin." His jaw tightened. "And it's the only option left." The implications hit her like the turbulence they'd experienced. "You're joking." "Do I look like I'm joking?" He ran a hand through his dark hair, messing it for the first time she'd ever seen. "Look, I like this as much as you do, but unless you want to sleep on the airport floor for potentially several days..." She glanced around at the crowded terminal, at families camping on the floor, at the overwhelmed staff. Her pride warred with practicality. "Fine," she bit out. "But I'm taking the bed." His lips quirked in what might have been amusement. "We'll see about that." * * * The ride to the cabin was harrowing. The shuttle driver, a grizzled local named Earl, navigated roads that were rapidly disappearing under snow while Zara and Dante sat in tense silence. The sexual awareness that always simmered between them seemed magnified in the close quarters. The cabin, when they finally reached it, was smaller than advertised. And rustic was a generous description. "You've got to be kidding me," Zara said, staring at the single bed that dominated the tiny bedroom. "There's a couch," Dante offered, setting down his bag. "It's a loveseat at best." "Then I guess we're sharing the bed." His tone was matter-of-fact, but she caught the heat in his eyes before he turned away. "I'll get a fire started before we lose power." "Lose power?" She followed him to the living area. "What do you mean lose power?" He knelt by the fireplace, efficiently arranging kindling. "This storm's supposed to be historic. Power grids won't hold up." As if on cue, the lights flickered. "Better change into something warm while you can still see." Zara grabbed her bag and escaped to the bathroom. She stared at herself in the mirror—her usually perfect chignon was frazzled, her uniform wrinkled, and her brown eyes showed the strain of the day. She changed quickly into yoga pants and an oversized sweater, then steeled herself to face another indeterminate period trapped with Dante Castellan. When she emerged, he'd not only started a roaring fire but had also located candles and arranged them around the small space. He'd changed too, into worn jeans and a black henley that clung to his muscled torso in ways that made her mouth go dry. "Hungry?" He held up a can. "Earl left us some supplies. Hope you like soup." They ate in relative silence, the tension crackling between them like the fire. When the power finally went out completely, plunging them into firelit darkness, Zara shivered despite the warmth. "Come here," Dante said quietly. "You're cold." "I'm fine." "Zara." Her name on his lips was a command and a caress. "We could die of stubbornness, or we could act like adults and share body heat." She moved to sit beside him on the small couch, acutely aware of every point where their bodies touched. He draped a blanket over them both, and his arm came around her shoulders. "This doesn't change anything," she said. "I still think you're an arrogant ass." "And I still think you're an uptight control freak." But his hand was gentle as he rubbed her arm. "Why do you hate me so much, anyway?" The question, asked in the intimate darkness, caught her off guard. "You really don't know?" "Enlighten me." She stared into the fire. "My first day. You dressed me down in front of the entire crew because I'd reversed two sentences in the safety demonstration." "That was you?" He sounded genuinely surprised. "Christ, Zara, I didn't mean—there had just been an accident on another airline because of skipped safety protocols. I was on edge." "You humiliated me." His arm tightened around her. "I'm sorry. I'm not good with...people. I notice you, though. Always have." "What's that supposed to mean?" He turned to face her, and suddenly the space between them seemed to shrink. "It means I notice everything about you. How you bite your lower lip when you're concentrating. How you always smell like jasmine. How you manage difficult passengers with a smile that never quite reaches your eyes. How you look at me like you want to simultaneously strangle me and—" "Don't." But her protest was weak. "And fuck me." His voice was rough velvet. "Just like I look at you." The air between them combusted. Zara didn't know who moved first, but suddenly his mouth was on hers, hot and demanding. Six months of pent-up frustration and desire exploded as she fisted her hands in his shirt, pulling him closer. He growled against her lips, his tongue sweeping into her mouth as he hauled her onto his lap. She straddled his thighs, grinding against the hard length she could feel through his jeans. "Bedroom," she gasped as his lips found her throat. He stood in one fluid motion, lifting her with him. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he carried her to the bed, never breaking the fevered contact of their mouths. They fell onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs and desperate hands. Dante pulled her sweater over her head, his eyes going dark at the sight of her lace bra. "Fuck, you're beautiful." He traced the edge of the lace with one finger, making her shiver. "I've wanted this for so long." "Less talking," she demanded, pulling at his henley. He laughed, a low, dangerous sound that made heat pool between her thighs. "So demanding. I like it." His shirt hit the floor, revealing a torso that was even more spectacular than she'd imagined. Defined muscles, a trail of dark hair leading below his waistband, and a few scars that spoke of an interesting past. She traced one with her finger. "What's this from?" "Motorcycle accident. Young and stupid." He caught her hand, pressing it flat against his chest where she could feel his racing heart. "But we're not talking about the past right now." He lowered his head to her breast, sucking her nipple through the lace. She arched beneath him, a moan escaping her lips. He took his time, lavishing attention on one breast then the other until she was writhing beneath him. "Dante, please..." "Please what?" He moved lower, pressing kisses to her stomach. "Tell me what you want, Zara." "You know what I want." "Say it." His fingers hooked into her yoga pants, dragging them down her legs along with her underwear. "I want to hear you say it." She raised herself on her elbows, meeting his burning gaze. "I want you to fuck me, Dante. Hard." His control visibly snapped. He surged up to capture her mouth again, his kiss bruising and perfect. She heard his zipper and then felt him, hot and hard against her entrance. "Wait," he gritted out, pulling back. "Protection." "I'm on the pill and I'm clean," she said impatiently. "You?" "Clean. Are you sure?" Instead of answering, she wrapped her hand around him, guiding him to where she needed him most. They both groaned as he pushed inside, stretching her, filling her completely. "Christ, you feel incredible." He held himself still, his arms trembling with the effort. "So tight, so perfect." She rolled her hips, taking him deeper. "Move, Dante. Please." He withdrew almost completely before slamming back in, setting a rhythm that had her nails digging into his shoulders. Each thrust drove her higher, the angle perfect, hitting spots that made her see stars. "Is this what you wanted?" He grabbed her thigh, hooking it over his hip to go even deeper. "All those times you glared at me across the galley? Were you thinking about this?" "Yes," she admitted, beyond pride now. "God, yes." "Me too." He shifted, his thumb finding her clit, circling with just the right pressure. "Drove me crazy. Wanting you. Fighting with you. Dreaming about having you under me just like this." His words and touch pushed her over the edge. She came with a cry, her body clenching around him as waves of pleasure crashed through her. He followed seconds later, her name a growl on his lips as he buried himself deep. They lay tangled together, breathing hard. The fire crackled in the other room, the only sound besides the howling wind outside. Zara waited for the awkwardness to set in, for regret to surface. Instead, she felt...content. Sated. "That was..." Dante trailed off, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Yeah." "We should probably talk about—" "Later." She yawned, suddenly exhausted. "Sleep now." He pulled her against his chest, draping the heavy quilt over them both. "Bossy even after orgasms. I should have known." She smiled against his skin. Tomorrow they could figure out what this meant, how to navigate working together after crossing this line. Tonight, warm and safe in his arms while the storm raged outside, she let herself just feel. * * * Zara woke to pale winter sunlight and the smell of coffee. She stretched, feeling deliciously sore in all the right places, then froze as memories of the night flooded back. The bed beside her was empty but still warm. She could hear Dante moving around in the main room. Grabbing the throw from the foot of the bed, she wrapped it around herself and padded out to find him. He stood by the window, wearing only his jeans, holding two steaming mugs. The morning light played across his muscled back, and her body responded immediately to the sight. "Storm's passed," he said without turning. "Plows should reach us in a few hours." "Oh." She didn't know why that made her feel disappointed. "Good." He turned then, his amber eyes sweeping over her wrapped in nothing but a blanket, hair tousled from sleep and sex. "Is it?" She accepted the coffee he offered, using it as a shield. "Dante, about last night..." "If you're about to say it was a mistake, don't." His voice was firm. "I don't do regrets, Zara." "What do you do then?" He set his mug down and moved closer, backing her against the wall. "I do this." His mouth found hers, the kiss slow and deep and full of promise. "And this." His hand slipped beneath the blanket, finding her already wet. "And I'm planning to do it again. Thoroughly. Unless you have objections?" "I—oh god." Her head fell back as his fingers worked magic. "No objections." "Good." He lifted her easily, carrying her back to the bedroom. "Because we have hours before that plow arrives, and I intend to use every minute." He spread her out on the bed, the blanket falling away. His gaze was reverent as he looked at her. "Do you know how many cold showers I've taken because of you? How many times I've jerked off thinking about this?" "Tell me," she breathed, spreading her legs in invitation. "Every. Fucking. Day." He punctuated each word with a kiss, moving down her body. "In the shower. In hotel rooms. Once in the cockpit bathroom after you bent over in that tight skirt." "Dante!" She was shocked and aroused in equal measure. "What? You think you're the only one affected by this thing between us?" He settled between her thighs, his breath hot against her center. "I'm going to show you exactly how affected I've been." His tongue found her clit, and coherent thought fled. He ate her like a man starved, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention that had her hands fisting in his hair. When he slid two fingers inside her, curling them just right, she shattered. He didn't give her time to recover, crawling up her body and entering her in one smooth thrust. This morning's pace was different from last night's frenzied coupling—slow, deep, deliberate. He watched her face as he moved, cataloging every gasp and moan. "I could do this forever," he murmured against her lips. "Watch you come apart for me. Feel you tight and hot around me. Perfect." She wrapped her legs around him, meeting him thrust for thrust. "Harder, Dante. I won't break." He complied, the headboard banging against the wall as he drove into her. She felt the tension building again, impossibly soon. "That's it, baby. Come for me again. Let me feel it." His words pushed her over the edge. She came with a scream, her body bowing beneath him. He followed her over, his release triggering another wave of pleasure through her. They lay panting, sweat cooling on their skin despite the cold outside. "We're going to have to talk about this eventually," Zara said once she could speak again. "I know." He pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "But not yet. Let me have this morning. Let me have you without the complications." She understood. Outside this cabin, they had jobs, responsibilities, a professional relationship that would be forever changed. But here, now, they could just be Dante and Zara—not captain and flight attendant, not adversaries, just two people who had finally given in to months of desire. "Okay," she agreed. "But I'm going to need more coffee first. And food. You wore me out." His laugh rumbled through his chest. "I'll make breakfast. You stay here and look beautiful." "I look like I've been thoroughly fucked. Twice." "Exactly. Beautiful." She threw a pillow at him, but she was smiling. * * * They spent the morning alternating between talking and touching, learning each other in ways that went beyond the physical. Zara discovered that Dante's arrogance masked deep insecurity about personal relationships—the result of a broken engagement years ago. He learned that her need for control stemmed from a chaotic childhood with an unreliable mother. "I pegged you for a rich girl," he admitted, tracing patterns on her bare shoulder. "Perfect life, perfect family." "Hardly. Single mom who spent more time with her boyfriends than her daughter. I raised myself mostly." She turned in his arms to face him. "Flying was my escape. The structure, the rules, the ability to go anywhere. It saved me." "Me too," he said quietly. "After Maria left—my ex—I threw myself into work. Easier than dealing with the failure." "You're not a failure." She touched his face, feeling the stubble against her palm. "Arrogant, insufferable, way too attractive for your own good, but not a failure." "Way too attractive, huh?" His trademark smirk returned. "Tell me more about that." She laughed, shoving at his chest. "Your ego doesn't need any help from me." He rolled her beneath him, his expression turning serious. "What are we going to do, Zara? When we get back?" "I don't know." She was honest. "This changes everything." "It doesn't have to. We're both professionals. We can keep work and personal separate." "Can we? When I've seen you naked? When I know what you sound like when you come? When all I'll be able to think about is—" He silenced her with a kiss that made her toes curl. "Then we'll figure it out. Because I'm not giving this up. I'm not giving you up." "Dante..." "I'm serious. I know we started off wrong. I know I was an ass. But this—" he gestured between them "—this is right. Tell me you don't feel it too." She couldn't lie, not when he was looking at her with those amber eyes full of hope and vulnerability. "I feel it." "Then we try. Real dates. Real relationship. See where it goes." "People will talk. The crew already speculates—" "Let them talk. I don't care." He cupped her face. "Do you?" She thought about it. Her career had always come first, professionalism her armor against a world that had disappointed her too often. But lying here with Dante, she realized that armor had also kept her from living fully. "No," she decided. "I don't care." His smile was brilliant. "Good. Because I plan to be very unprofessional with you, Ms. Blackwood. Frequently." "I'm counting on it, Captain Castellan." The sound of engines interrupted them—the plow had arrived. Reality beckoned, but Zara found she wasn't dreading it anymore. Whatever challenges lay ahead, they'd face them together. * * * Three days later, Zara stood in the galley preparing for beverage service. The Minneapolis airport had finally reopened, and they were on their first flight back together. The crew had been buzzing with speculation since she and Dante had returned to the airport in the same shuttle, but she'd weathered it with uncharacteristic calm. "So," Margot sidled up beside her, "anything you want to share about your snow day with Captain Hottie?" "We talked. Cleared the air." Zara kept her expression neutral. "Uh-huh. Is that why you're glowing? And why he hasn't taken his eyes off you since preflight?" Before Zara could respond, Dante's voice came over the intercom. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Castellan. We have clear skies ahead and perfect flying weather. A special welcome to our frequent flyers, and an extra special thank you to our exceptional cabin crew, particularly our lead flight attendant, Ms. Blackwood, who went above and beyond during the recent weather emergency." Zara flushed as passengers smiled at her approvingly. That was definitely not standard announcement protocol. "Cleared the air, my ass," Margot muttered with a grin. Twenty minutes into the flight, a passenger called her over. "Miss, the captain asked me to give you this." He handed her a folded napkin. She opened it to find Dante's bold handwriting: "Dinner tonight? I promise no weather emergencies. -D" "Everything alright?" Margot asked, noticing her smile. "Perfect." Zara tucked the note into her pocket. "Everything's perfect." * * * **One Year Later** Zara stood in the cockpit doorway, watching Dante complete his preflight checklist. So much had changed since that night in the cabin, yet some things remained wonderfully the same. "See something you like, Ms. Blackwood?" He didn't look up from his instruments. "Always, Captain Castellan." He turned then, heat flaring in those amber eyes. "Careful. We have a full flight." "Then I guess you'll have to wait until we reach the layover hotel." She straightened his tie, letting her fingers linger. "Think you can manage?" "You're a tease, future Mrs. Castellan." She flashed her engagement ring at him—a perfect solitaire he'd presented at 30,000 feet last month, getting down on one knee in the cockpit while the autopilot handled the empty repositioning flight. "Ms. Blackwood!" A harried voice called from the cabin. "We need you!" "Duty calls." She pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "Try not to hit too much turbulence, Captain. I have plans for you later that require steady hands." His groan followed her back into the cabin where Margot was dealing with a difficult passenger. "Ma'am, I can assure you, your seat is perfectly safe—" Margot was saying. "I specifically requested a seat away from the wing! This is unacceptable! I want to speak to someone in charge!" "I can help you," Zara intervened smoothly. "What seems to be the problem?" As she handled the passenger with practiced ease, she caught Dante watching from the cockpit door. He winked before returning to his duties, and she smiled. They still bickered. He was still arrogant, and she was still a control freak. But now their arguments ended in laughter and lovemaking instead of cold silence. They'd learned to channel their passion in much more enjoyable ways. "You two are disgusting," Margot said once the passenger was settled. "In the best way. I've never seen you so happy." "I never knew I could be," Zara admitted. And it was true. That blizzard had grounded more than just their plane—it had grounded her in a love she never expected. As she moved through the cabin, she thought about their future. A small wedding in Tuscany this fall. Maybe children eventually—little pilots or flight attendants with Dante's eyes and her determination. "Ladies and gentlemen, we're expecting smooth skies all the way to Denver," Dante announced. "Sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight." Smooth skies indeed, Zara thought. After weathering their storm, everything else felt like perfect flying weather. As she passed the cockpit again, Dante caught her hand, pulling her in for one more stolen kiss. "I love you," he murmured against her lips. "I love you too. Now fly the plane, Captain." "Yes, ma'am." She returned to the cabin with a smile. Some of the best things in life came from the most unexpected turbulence. And sometimes, getting grounded was exactly what you needed to learn how to soar.