He closed his eyes and took advantage of the numbing rumble of the engine, the quiet murmurings of the other passengers. Force of habit, he was out like a light the second they reached the clouds. Never knew when you could rest again; banking sleep was necessary.
Flashing under his lids, strobe-like blasts threatened to nail a hole in the cargo bay. Jerking up and down, the turbulence tugged at the wings. The snapping of tie-downs behind him. One of the crates whipped from its remaining safety strap.
Unbuckling his harness, he braced his gait and moved to lock it down. Busting completely free, the crate surged toward him, on the way to knock him flat and everyone sleeping behind him. Appearing at his side, Jack and Asher shoved forward. As a unit, they slammed the weight of their combined strength and halted the crate before it took anyone out.
Not fucking fast enough.
Dropping hundreds of feet before stabilizing again, the plane shuddered, the crate rose in the air. In slow motion, the massive thing slammed back down.
A dense metal hook smashed back and cracked into Jack’s skull, knocking him out cold.
Shouting over the thunder, the engines screaming to stay in the air, Asher snapped his attention back to the danger they could fix.
While Jack lie bleeding on the floor, Asher and Zane heaved and shifted the crate back against the wall, strapping it back down.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Freya rested her palm on his cheek, repeating her reassurances like a plea.
Sealing his eyes shut, he blocked the memory that wasn’t a memory. Where Jack had jumped back up, unphased and larger than life, Zane’s twisted subconscious seemed bent on killing his friend every time he closed his eyes.
Like a never-ending punishment for the time Jack hadn’t gotten back up again, but Zane had.
Everything blurring around him, nausea wrenching his gut, he found Freya’s intense blue eyes and locked on to the anchor, her familiar voice centering him. Blinking, he inhaled slow and steady.
“It’s okay,” she said again.
He clenched his teeth and gave her a subtle nod, letting her know he was back.
Above, the seatbelt sign flipped on. The pilot’s voice came through, letting them know it was ninety degrees without a trace of wind. Fucking Reno. What the hell was he thinking?
Sharing the rental car with her parents had been stupid. Zane hardly said a word, his poker face out in full force. Her parents made small talk, her mother saying how bummed she was they’d missed the bridal shower, her father wondering out loud if Uncle Joe still had the boat so they could go fishing.
While offering the occasional nod or polite conversation-furthering question for her parents to keep things light, Freya linked hands with Zane. He stared out the window, expressionless as they passed casino after casino. She remembered Tahoe as beautiful, but Reno was not her type of place.
When he finally glanced her way, she raised her eyebrows, silently asking if he was okay. He nodded, then looked back out the window again. The moment they reached the hotel, he grabbed their garment bag and his backpack, linking his hand with hers as they walked inside.
While she checked them in, he walked to the wall of windows overlooking the lake and stared out at the mountains in the distance. Nodding to her dad while her mother asked the concierge about what sort of view they had and what time the restaurant was open for breakfast and was there room service, Freya accepted the pair of room keys from the attendant and joined Zane.
“All good?” she asked.
He nodded again, his jaw still flexing instead of opening to talk.
She slipped her hand back into his and led the way to the elevator. Up to the fourth floor, she held the key in front of the second to last door at the end of the hall, the light blinking green as the lock clicked open. Travel days were the worst, but this was so much better than crossing the Atlantic and the continental US. No jetlag was brilliant.
Zane breathed deeply as he followed her inside, his shoulders relaxing as he hung the garment bag in the closet and stashed his backpack under it. Freya dashed in the bathroom to refresh, unsure what to expect when she returned.
When she came out, he was standing on the deck, looking out at the lake, the mountains, a breeze rustling through his hair, across his travel-wrinkled shirt.
She joined him on the private deck and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face against his back. His hands rested over hers, and they stood unmoving together. Laughter and squeals of delight radiated up from the beach. Boats zipped across the choppy water. The breeze was a cool relief from the summer day.
His fingers laced with hers, shifting his shirt and moving her hand to his skin. Combusting on contact, she traced along the ridges under her fingertips, goosebumps prickling over his skin in her wake.
Tugging at the bottom of his t-shirt, she eased up the cotton fabric.
As he helped her pull it over his head, he turned and pitched the shirt in the room, immediately wrapping his arms around her. Mouth on her neck, her collarbone, her shoulder, he didn’t say a word.
His hands slid down her waist and gripped her hips, lifting her off the ground and carrying her into the room, lips still trailing over her skin.
He lowered her to the bed, following close and finally kissing her. Tenderly, decadently, he tasted. Melting, zinging as he caressed her tongue with his, his leisurely exploration, each savoring kiss sending chills over her skin as every nerve in her body heated in response.
When he paused, she opened her eyes. Whatever had haunted him dissipated; nothing but the moment in his gaze, locked on with hers with a hungry curiosity that stopped her pulse, setting off a new rhythm as the intensity in his look jumpstarted it back into beating.
Reaching down, he slid his hand under her shirt, tracing up and moving under her bra, encircling her breasts with his hands. Her breath caught in her throat, words unable to describe the sensation that coursed through her veins.
Needing more, she tugged her top over her head, snapped off her bra and flung it out of the way.
Groaning, he lowered and pressed his open mouth between her breasts. Moving, tantalizing, his tongue grazed across her curves, finally taking a tight bud between his teeth, deep in his mouth until she cried out and begged for more.
Pheromones blazing, Freya was lost in him. Later, she’d remind herself this was going to be a problem. For now? She felt nothing but him, and his devastating effect on her.
He rose to his knees, still straddling her legs. She sat up and looked up at him, unbuttoning his jeans and lowering the zipper, eliciting a rich, rumbling moan. She grasped his cock in her hands. Grinning, loving seeing him nearly naked and flawlessly built and completely under her spell, she shifted and ran her tongue along the length of his shaft.
He groaned again, moving back out of her reach in regretful torture. “Two years,” he muttered. “Almost three.” He rose from the bed and tugged off his jeans the rest of the way, snagging a condom from the pocket. Finally, the corners of his mouth turned up as he stood at the edge of the bed, “This isn’t going to last long as it is.”
Taking the condom from his hand, she tore open the wrapper and slid it over him. As his eyes rolled back in his head, she murmured, “I guess I’d better make it worth your while.” She nodded toward the bed.
Moving onto his back, he grinned up at her, as relaxed and happy as she’d ever seen. Imprinting the image in her mind, she hoped she could hold onto every detail to paint him when she got home; from the stubble on his jaw to the upturned corners of his mouth, the fascination in his eyes, each precise muscle of his torso.
Lowering herself onto his rock-hard cock, blazing energy coursed through her as they joined. Adjusting to the thick thrill, she let out a gasp. Rocking, heat radiated from her core, irreparably altering every molecule inside her.
As she climbed higher, grinding, pumping, she tightened around him. Grasping her hips, he met her gaze. Moving her faster as he thickened inside her, she soared higher
and higher until an enchanted scream rose from her center as orgasm rocketed through her. He eased her pace, letting her slide up and down, riding the wave as the consuming sensation slowed to a vibrating simmer.
They moved fluidly together, building the foundation stronger as she still teetered on the precipice. Riding higher and faster, each thrust sent her a little further down the lane she knew she’d lose herself in as soon as she gave herself to him.
And she was having a bitch of a time regretting it.
Another orgasm rushed through her as they found their rhythm together, wild and fast and free.
Slowing together, spent, alive, she rested her body on his, skin against skin. Pressing his lips to her forehead, he didn’t say a word, mindlessly tracing his fingers over her shoulder.
As the intensity faded to a sweet snuggle, coherent thought managed to bubble into her brain. She nearly cussed and argued and ran away… dammit, this was exactly what she feared; addicting, vibrant, extraordinary.
8
Stupid Pheromones
“No, it’s the stupid pheromones. I told you they would be the end of me.” Freya kicked off her shoes as they reached the beach, looping her fingers through the straps.
Tammy handed Freya back her coffee and gave her that maternal smile that had Freya confessing her predicament as soon as they’d stepped outside. “Honey, I know pheromones are a real thing. But I think you put a bit too much stock into what the rest of us call good chemistry.”
“Mom. Good chemistry doesn’t turn you into a blubbering mess like this. I mean, the man’s unstoppable. We already had to order extra condoms from room service. A toothbrush, now that’s an embarrassing thing to admit you forgot. But to call for more condoms?”
“Okay, good sex then. A healthy dose of lust. And maybe, now I know you don’t want to think about it, but maybe something more.”
“No. No no no. Not going there. That’s where my brain fizzles and I get caught up in everything him and start turning into one of those idiots that invests everything into the relationship and next thing you know it I’m sitting on the sidewalk with an overstuffed suitcase and mascara caked on my cheeks and about ten bucks in my pocket.”
“You’d better not have ended up like that, or I’d be offended you didn’t call me to come get you.”
“Well, not exactly that theatrical, but that’s what it felt like.” That wasn’t until after she’d thrown stuff at him and kicked him out, and then realized she couldn’t afford the place alone.
“It’s been one night. That doesn’t mean you’re giving anything up for this man.”
The breeze sent her dark waves in a chaotic spiral so she could hardly appreciate the gorgeous view. “Not yet. But I will. I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again. I’ll get so caught up in the physical side, I won’t notice that he’s a jerk. We should settle down and have kids right away because that’s what he wants. Or I’ll let him take the last of my cerulean blue because he has to nail that sunset where my landscape is fine the way it is. Or give up my Christmas because he can’t leave his family.” She hadn’t even touched her coffee yet, too wired to risk the caffeine. “What if I do something really stupid and get engaged again?” Her eyes were wide, the scenery completely distorted.
Linking arms and steadying their pace, Tammy sighed, “Freya. Honey. I won’t act naïve and pretend you haven’t had enough lovers to not be so swayed by good sex.” Her mom’s cheeks burned red.
Freya stopped and took in extra air, the wind whipping her dress in a tangle around her legs. “I’ve had enough lovers to know it’s not supposed to be that good. Mom, I did things with him last night I would never even have thought of. I feel like I should write a book on the subject now to let others know everything they’re missing out on.”
Keeping her voice calm, Tammy said, “And what does Zane say about all this?”
“That he’s had a lot of time alone to develop some rather elaborate fantasies.”
Cheeks now as red as the hotel beach chairs, Tammy clarified, “I mean, is he looking for more?”
“No. He had a terrible divorce and never wants to get married again.”
“So what are you worried about?”
A nauseating wave rolled over Freya’s cheeks, “Even worse. What if I talk him into getting engaged? And then he’s resentful and I give up my own interests because I’m so caught up in him and he goes back into the military because I’ve spent all of our savings on a career that’s never going to pay off.”
Halting their walk, Tammy yanked back on Freya’s quickening pace, her voice sharp, “Freya. I love you girl, but your imagination has always gotten the better of you. Be the artist you are and experience the now. Feel what you need to feel. And when you’re satisfied, put down your brush. You can’t decide how you feel about the painting when you haven’t even finished it.”
“Wow, Mom, that was a nice analogy. I mean, I might have picked something a bit more germane, but…” She grinned a tease at her mother.
“Oh hush. I’m not the artist, you are. You figure it out.” Tammy bubbled over with self-effacing laughter, Freya’s mood lightening right along with her. “You will always be my independent daughter. No relationship is perfect; your father and I have had to compromise for each other, but we also build each other up. Why don’t you take things one day at a time? If he doesn’t build you up, then you end it.”
“Okay,” she took a steadying breath. Although she’d visited as often as she could, it had been tough living so far away. “I’m just done with the whole thing. You and Dad are so good together. I’m surrounded by all these people that are able to make it work. After three failed attempts at getting serious, I’m scared.”
“Of course you are. Trust me. When it’s right? You’ll know.”
Freya wasn’t so sure about that. She’d known enough times to get engaged. But her mother was a hopeless romantic. Like Freya used to be. “Have you seen Lulu or Uncle Joe or Aunt Noelle yet?”
She shook her head. “They’re still over at the cabin with the rest of the wedding party. But I think most of the guests of the hotel are here for the wedding.”
“Really? There are some rowdy folks here. I figured there was some frat reunion or something.”
“Yep,” Tammy muttered. “Lulu and her fiancé’s friends. I talked with your Aunt Gloria after we arrived yesterday; apparently Lulu is a bit of a partier.”
Wincing, Freya paused for a sip of coffee to wash down that image. “Well this should be an interesting evening. Six o'clock?”
“Ceremony is at six. Shall we meet you at your room at five thirty? The ceremony will take place on the hotel lawn, then, from what I hear, all of those doors will open up to the dining room for the reception.”
As they strolled back toward the hotel, she watched as uniformed hotel employees were already starting to set up a few hundred chairs. It was a nice spot, but holy shit, there had to be three hundred guests coming. And she’d felt like her hundred-guest wedding had been big.
Resting his feet on the deck rail, Zane sipped his coffee and looked out over the lake, already alive with tourists escaping the sweltering cities downriver. Or, hell, these might all be wedding guests. Below, a few hundred chairs were being set up, a portable arbor, flowerpots holding down a red carpet. Fancy. Wonder how much this weekend set them back. Almost as overdone as his own wedding had been.
His phone buzzed on the table. Rising to his feet, he left the crisp morning breeze. The blankets were in a tangle on the floor, too far gone to be remade without starting fresh. Damn, Freya had been insatiable. He didn’t know it was possible to do it that much, and still want her again. After their naked room service breakfast, she’d left for a walk with her mom, and he’d wandered down to the giftshop and bought out their stock of condoms.
Remembering what he’d come in for, he picked up his phone before it went to voicemail.
Gritting his teeth, he almost didn’t answer. Shouldn’t have. And he’
d been having such a nice vacation.
“Yeah,” he answered. It had either been that, or about fucking time.
“Zane, dear. I’m so glad we finally connected.”
Connected. Sure. Whatever you want to call it. “Hey, Mom.”
“So you’re home and safe now?”
What?
“From your deployment?”
“No. I’m out. Done. Civilian. Moved to Washington.”
Long pause. “Oh, that’s just wonderful. DC is so nice this time of year.”
“State.”
“Even lovelier. Why don’t you come for a visit?”
“Thanks, but I’m really not looking to travel right now.” As far as they needed to know anyway.
“So the reason I called today is to let you know that we finally welcomed Blaire as a full partner in the firm.”
“What?” He’d known she’d transferred back east after their divorce, but that she’d had the gall to join his parents’ firm?
“Yes. She interned with us after leaving San Diego. I thought you knew?”
Uh, no.
“Zane?”
“Yeah. I’m here.”
“Well, I was talking with her about you two and how good you two had been together–”
What the fuck? “No. We were awful together.”
“And I was thinking you should come home, at least for a visit. I’m sure you’ve both grown up so much.”
“I’ve got to go.”
“Wait, dear. I know you must have hard feelings about the way things ended.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Come visit and see for yourself. I think you two will get along famously if you give her a chance to show you how much she’s changed.”
“Fuck no.”
“You might change your mind, see what sparks are still be there. Wouldn't that be wonderful, if you two could reunite, the firm will grow and be fully Harris-owned, and we’d get to share more of your life. I’m sure you’re rusty, but you could start slow and it will all come back to you.”
The Next Day (Foothills Book 2) Page 8
