I knew I should have grabbed my ski jacket instead of this flimsy ‘fashionable’ blazer that Ally insisted on.
The wind swirled the snowflakes around me. Even though the sun was setting, the white-gray clouds completely blocked out the sky with the snow that would continue to fall. Looked like tomorrow was going to be a good day to ride.
“Channing.” I shivered, turning towards my name, my hands clutching the stupid blazer closed over my chest; I never had to worry about this with a sweatshirt.
“You can’t walk to Breakers in that.” He swore and took off his jacket. “Here, wear this.” I opened my mouth to protest until he said, “Please.” I ducked my head in stunned acquiescence as his arms reached around me to put his jacket around my shoulders; no one had ever done this for me. Hell, my friends would have taken this opportunity to give me crap about dressing like a girl again. Cocky assholes. But Wyatt…
Wyatt could be cocky – demanding coffee, insisting on a date, hinting at a kiss – but then he did something like this and my entire body melted in spite of the cold. My shivering stilled as my desire spread from the center of me out over my body. I didn’t need his jacket; I just needed him.
“That should help keep you a little warmer,” he murmured with lips that I knew could do an even better job as he pulled the coat tight across my front. I couldn’t help myself from breathing deeply as his hands moved over my chest, my body aching for even the barest hint of his touch. In his presence, I felt alive. I shouldn’t want him. I shouldn’t want this. He was the competition. Or was I just a coward? I looked up into his sinfully handsome face, letting the warmth of his tone and gesture seep into me – into all the empty holes in my life that I’d tried to hide from.
Just this once, Channing. Let yourself feel for just this once.
And then, in a move that I would add to the list of bold and brainless ideas, I responded breathlessly, “Kissing keeps you warm.”
His eyes widened. Again, the unexpected coming from me. His expression said, ‘do you mean that?’ I boldly stared back at him, daring him to find out.
And then, his lips crushed mine.
Wyatt wasn’t kidding when he said that he’d been trying to control himself in there. This was nothing like the kiss we’d shared yesterday. This kiss demanded. It took risks; it explored the unknown. It hurdled us towards something that couldn’t be controlled. I may not have kissed a lot of guys, but I was a fast learner. His tongue demanded entrance, mine took control.
Soon enough, my arms were wrapped around his neck. His jacket would have been on the ground, in the snow, if his arms hadn’t been locked like a vise around my back, holding my body flush against his heat.
Well, there went another pair of underwear.
Now, instead of shivering in the cold, I felt relief every time a gust of wind blew against us; my body felt like it was on fire. Heat poured out of me in waves as my body begged to be burned. I wanted to be closer to him, without the layers. His right hand slipped down to grab my ass; I was now thankful for the designer jeans that let him mold his hand over my flesh. He yanked my hips against his and I felt the hardness of his erection pressing into my stomach. Those butterflies that I’d felt before? The poor things were now incinerated by the wildfire inside of me.
He held me close, but still my hips ground against his, needing more of whatever it was that he was giving me – needing more of him.
I wanted to be with him; and suddenly, I didn’t care what it did to my chances of winning gold in Slopestyle. I’d never felt like this before and I wanted to explore whatever this was, no matter the cost.
The thought sent me flying back. I caught his jacket before it fell, wrapping it around me as we stared at each other trying to catch our breaths.
“Holy shit, Channing,” he said hoarsely.
“I have to go.”
His hand grabbed onto my arm – onto his own jacket – to stop me. “I need to see you again.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I whispered thickly. “I’m sorry. This was a mistake.”
And then before the heat that still throbbed between my thighs overwhelmed my caution and had me throwing myself back into his arms, I released his jacket from my grasp – freeing myself from his – and took off down the path towards the main lodge.
This was the first time I’d ever shown up to work thinking that I was the only one in the bar tonight who actually needed a drink.
Chapter 8
Channing
Son of a biscuit.
My hands fells to my sides in the soft powder that puffed up above me. I'd been right; the snow that fell last night left a blanket of soft, fresh pow on the mountain today, just waiting to be explored. I pulled my goggles up onto my helmet, letting the snowflakes drift onto my face. The snow clung in heavy plumes to the branches of the trees, making them appear like giant Q-tips rising up from the ground. Everywhere I looked was white; everywhere I looked was a clean, fresh start – untouched and untainted.
I felt the cold snow and earth under my back as I deeply inhaled the crisp air. It wasn't the ocean – the mountain didn't actually move underneath me – and yet, it still felt alive, breathing its strength into me.
That feeling never got old.
Its unchanging solidarity was a firm base underneath my body, giving me a rock to cling to when everything else in my life felt like it was up in the air. It was here when I landed, it was here when I fell, it was the foundation that lifted me up to reach for the stars. It had no expectations; it had no judgment. It didn't wonder why I was so good or not good enough. It didn't look at me wondering where my brother had gone or why he left. It didn't pass over the surface of me, ignoring the woman underneath.
Most look at the mountain as something to best – a challenge to defeat; most had it all wrong.
I didn't come here to conquer the mountain; I came to the mountain to conquer myself. I came to break through my fears, my boundaries, and everything that held me back.
But today, I seemed to be conquering nothing. Not my frustration on the fourteen-week mark of Chance leaving – but who was counting? Not my fear of the triple cork. And certainly not my complete confusion over everything that I felt for Wyatt.
I heard the faint echo of Emmett's voice as he signaled his drop onto the jump. We’d been out since seven this morning - determined to get first tracks in the park. I warmed myself up slowly today, gradually increasing the difficulty of the jumps that I pulled. About an hour ago, partially at the instigation of Emmett and Nick, and partially because I knew I was going to have to attempt it at some point if I was going to win gold in slope style, I went for the triple cork.
I was calm, I was confident, and the conditions were great. And just like last year at the Open, I choked on the take off – not getting enough speed or initial rotation to complete the move. It hurt, but I got up and pretended like it hadn't.
Frustrated, I tried again. And again.
And now, I lay in the snow at the bottom of the landing wallowing in my failure and the soreness pulsating throughout my body.
“I think you were closer that time.” Emmett pulled up next to me, plopping down on the ground.
I knew deep down, it wasn’t just technique that was holding me back; there was a fear inside me that reared its ugly head just as my board was about to leave the safety of the ground.
“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” I grumbled. “Everything feels perfect going into it, but somehow I still end up here.”
“Well, I’m sure Frost can empathize with you there.”
“Hey, fuck you! I heard that.” Nick came toward us, swinging his board to an abrupt stop and showering Emmett and me with snow.
“Ugh.” I pushed myself up to sit, ignoring the pain in the right side of my hip from landing on it three times now. Definitely going to be a bruise there.
And on my tailbone. But, it was hump day, so what did I expect?
“You could always ask your bu
ddy Wyatt to help you, you know,” Emmett interjected sarcastically and I shot him a cold stare.
For the past two days, he’d thrown in his snarky comments about Wyatt every so often and this was no different. I’d told him to drop it, but like that was really going to work.
I didn’t know what his deal was, but he disliked Wyatt and even more than that, he really disliked his brother, Zack. But I wasn’t about to defend the man that I hadn’t seen in two days; I was trying to forget all about that sexy piece of snowboarder. That was what was most frustrating about Emmett’s comments – not their sarcasm, but because they reminded me.
And I didn’t need any help remembering.
I’d given in to my body – my feelings – telling Wyatt to kiss me again and for a second, I’d allowed myself to relish in the fact that I was doing something for myself – not for my friends or my brother or my sport. And then, when the thought burned through me, even hotter than my desire for him, that I was willing to risk everything else to figure out what the pull was between us, I knew I was making a mistake.
This. The Games. Winning.
It was everything that I’d worked towards. Even though I hadn’t been the one to technically be invited, I knew that I belonged there just as much as Chance did and I needed to prove that.
Wanting Wyatt was a wager that could cause me to lose everything I wanted.
It was also a wager that could end up giving me everything I need.
That nagging thought I usually managed to suppress until just before I passed out from exhaustion into a world of dreams where I was free to do with Wyatt exactly what I craved.
Outside the coffeehouse, when I left him standing out in the snow, hadn’t been the last time I’d seen him that day. I managed to lose myself in my shift at Breakers, again grateful for Andrea’s stony silence and the steady flow of patrons while we worked. However, just as I finished wiping down the bar at the end of the night, Wyatt strolled into Breakers, that molten gaze of his locking onto me. I don’t know how he got in because we were closed, but he did. I stared dumbly at him wondering if I was imagining his presence.
“I’m walking you to your car,” he said firmly. It wasn't a question and his tone told me that it was pointless to get into a debate with him over it because Wyatt always won. “I know you said you couldn’t see me anymore and I will gladly respect your wishes, but this – your safety – is nonnegotiable.”
Again, he effortlessly strolled along the line between cocky and class. A gentleman with a demanding edge.
I started to open my mouth, my natural instinct to at least make the attempt to refute his assertions, but I was just too tired. And if I was honest, I wasn’t ready to let him go cold-turkey – not that night at least. So, instead, I clamped my lips shut again and just nodded, finishing up the last few things that I had to do around the bar before walking out and leaving Andrea to lock up.
We walked out to the car in silence. He stayed a respectable distance away, all the while I’d wished he’d walked closer; his proximity would warm me.
“Can I ask why?” His deep voice echoed through the practically empty parking lot as we came up to the side of my jeep.
I turned to look at him; he looked as tortured as I felt. “Because.” I felt like I had to at least try to give him something. I couldn't tell him it was because I was going to be competing against him. I couldn't tell him that it was because being with him would mean lying to him and I couldn't have my first... whatever this was... be constructed around a lie. Plus, could I even have the drive to win when it meant that someone I cared about would lose?
I couldn't tell him any of that. So, I tried to give him as close to the truth as possible. "First, you're my brother's competition." Not technically a lie.
"Bullshit." He took a step towards me which had me stepping back, putting my back up against the side of my Jeep. "I don't care about who your brother is and he shouldn't care who I am. The Games are just that; but this could be so much more." His hand came up to my cheek, his thumb brushing over my lower lip as it parted, allowing me to suck in a breath at his touch. Wyatt grinned at me. "Unless you are trying to sabotage me, but in that case, this would only help him. And if you aren't, then he should be happy to know how easily distracted I've been from everything except you."
I bit my lip, quickly releasing it when I heard him growl underneath his breath.
My mouth was dry, but I forced a swallow anyway. “Right now, I’m focused. I’m working towards something – towards winning the Open in February. I want to be the best and if I’m going to get there, I need to give my skills every ounce of my attention because the odds are against me – a female landing a triple cork. February in Vail is not that far away and I know that if I put everything that I have into practice, I will win.” I sighed. “Right now, I can focus; I can make winning my priority." Be careful, Channing. "Now, kiss me.”
Wyatt stared at me in confusion. “Don’t make me ask you again,” I demanded hoarsely, prepared to relish in the feel of his mouth and body one last time.
He didn’t.
Closing the distance between us, his lips dropped onto mine, one arm snaking around my waist and pushing me back against the side of my car, his body coming up flush against mine. I'd asked, but he took - and it was like all the hours we’d spent apart had never existed and we were right back where we’d left off. But this time, because we both knew it wasn't going to last, there was an urgency that consumed us both; there was a need to devour the other and take every last drop of the intoxicating passion between us. We kissed for several minutes until the pressure twisting inside of me drew painfully tight, begging to be unknotted and unfurled into an orgasm. I didn’t want it to end – I needed it not to end – which is why every cell of my body raged against me as I just barely pulled back from his kiss, our breaths mingling in the cold air surrounding us.
My eyes flitted up to his gaze. I could see he wondered why I’d asked him to kiss me after telling him that I couldn’t see him anymore.
“Before you kissed me, I was focused on my goals – focused on the dreams that I’ve had since I was a child. But, right now,” I whispered, my words caressing his lips. “I don’t know who I am or what I want. I don’t care about my job or the mountain or landing a triple or winning gold. I don’t care about anything except kissing you again and again and again because when I’m with you, everything that I’ve ever wanted and worked towards is up in the air and the only thing grounding me is you."
His arms tightened around me. “And that’s a bad thing, Channing?”
God, I loved the sound of my name on his lips. I squeezed my legs together as the pressure squeezed just a little bit tighter, begging for release
“For me, right now, it is.” I pressed my mouth to his one more time before I pushed myself away, cracking open the door to my jeep and sliding inside. “Thank you for walking me to my car. I’ll make sure that security takes me from now on.” I didn’t look at him again as I threw the Jeep into first and pulled away – I couldn’t. I could barely focus on the road as pointless tears formed in my eyes.
Wanting Wyatt was a dangerous game – one that I just couldn’t afford to play right now.
So why did it feel like in leaving him to focus on winning, the only thing I’d done was lose?
“Earth. To. Channing.” A snowball hit the back of my helmet and I spun to look at Emmett. “Where did you go, Lil? I was fucking kidding about asking Olsen for help – no need to go all ghost on me there.”
“I know,” I blurted out, brushing the snow off of me. “Just trying to figure out what the hell I’m doing wrong.”
And trying to ignore the part of me that insisted that Emmett had a good point – even if it had been said in jest.
“Yeah… sure.” He pushed himself up to stand. “We good?”
I nodded. “Yeah, you go this time,” I insisted; I was done with the stupid, elusive triple cork today. “I gotta head out after this one anyway.”
/>
It was almost eleven thirty now, which meant that I could finish this run before I had to grab lunch and head over to my lessons for the afternoon.
A group of three boarders blew past us, avoiding all of the jumps. “Fucking hate Makaha. Damn posers.” Nick stood up grumbling.
That was the problem with the intermediate park, riders who weren’t skilled enough to do any of the jumps – but wanted to be – would blow down the trail, stop and stare at the kickers, and then just keep going; it threw off the whole flow.
With the Snowmass park and pipe closing this past Monday, Makaha had been crowded all week – making it even more difficult for me to really focus on my triple cork; instead, I was too busy worrying about who was watching – or who was in my way.
“Dropping!” Emmett yelled out over the slope, letting anyone who was on the other side of the landing know that they better move their ass unless they wanted to get hit.
I pulled my neck-warmer up over my mouth as I chewed on the corner of my lip. Wyatt was one of the few people who knew how to do this and do it well – he would probably be the only other one attempting it in the Slopestyle competition. Was it right to ask him to help his competition?
He didn’t know that… and he had offered.
I pushed myself up off my very sore ass, swearing that I was going to take a nice long bubble bath at the end of the week for my efforts.
I cupped my gloved hands around my mouth. “Drop!”
This time when I flew down, I stuck a ten-eighty; I’d had enough torture for one day. We reconvened at the bottom of the slope, my gaze straying over towards the lift for Snowmass like it had done every time we’d finished the run - trying to catch a glimpse of Wyatt.
“You heading out?” Emmett pulled off his helmet, immediately reaching for a beanie in his jacket pocket and putting it on.
Up in the Air Page 9
