by Zoe Dawson
All of it was mesmerizing, especially thinking about what kind of bra she was wearing over those curves.
She looked all cool mint and white purity sitting next to me, like some bakery confection as good as sugar.
Very sweet.
Edible, but we were at thirty thousand feet, and I believe they frowned on that, even in first class.
The flight attendant was talking to me. I turned and accepted the cup of coffee I had asked for to keep my hands occupied and off my delectable sports agent.
“Thank you,” I replied, and the woman gave me a flirty smile and went off down the aisle just as Lena got off the phone.
I leaned over. “You are driving me crazy,” I said.
She looked over at me, her eyes softening. It was what I was craving, that display of awareness that she wanted me, too. I was constantly afraid I would look over at her and realize she had come to her senses.
“Ditto, handsome,” she breathed. “But if you don’t stop looking at me like that, it will be hard to keep this thing under wraps.”
I got lost in the wash of sunlight over her hair, catching it on fire, then the shadows, highlighting the curves of her mouth, the soft fullness of her lower lip, the sweet dipping of her upper lip. “I’ll try.”
She smiled at me and said, “So, you’re clear about everything?”
“Yes, but do you want to go over it one more time?” I said, smiling back at her. Lena was such a stickler for planning and rules and being prepared.
“That would be great. This is a golden opportunity to show what you have for Nitor.”
I reached up and fingered the edge of her lace shirt, murmuring, “You want to quiz me, you mean.”
On the tablet was listed:
Live webcast on LeagueStreetJam.com and FOXSports.com
May 10–12—LSJ Nitor SB Pro Open | Verizon Center | Washington, DC
July 17—LSJ Nitor SB World Tour: Stop One | Pauley Pavilion at UCLA | Los Angeles, CA
August 22—LSJ Nitor SB World Tour: Stop Two | Sydney QCU Arena | Sydney, Australia
October 1—LSJ Nitor SB Crown One World Championship | Madison Square Garden | New York, NY
She snagged my chin, and her eyes told me that she didn’t doubt my talent or skill. That she was just working through her own nervousness. “I just want to make sure we’re both on the same page. I believe in you completely. I just need to go through the drill for my own sanity. That’s all. I swear.”
I was confident about the LSJ competition. It wasn’t skateboarding that worried me. It was my dad showing up and making a scene. That had been foremost on my mind since his little visit. I pushed my concerns away. “There are a ton of skateboarding competitions, but LSJ has the biggest purse and the most exposure for me,” I recited. “It’ll get me noticed by sponsors. The competition has three stops. Out of the winners of these stops, only eight go on to the Crown One Championship in New York.”
My hand slipped over hers, and I rubbed her knuckles with my thumb. She gave me a warning glance but didn’t pull her hand away. Her skin was so soft, her eyes telling me she wished we weren’t on this plane either. I grinned and nudged her.
She nudged me back, and I continued. “There are three events. The first one is Flow, using the full course and can be anything we want. As many tricks as I can link in a forty-five-second run with two heats averaged together. Then Control, where we have a trick that is very technical, and finally Impact, landing a hard trick over a big obstacle.”
She consulted her tablet and nodded. “Yes, that’s what I have in my notes. Control you have five attempts, and Impact you have four.
“And you still don’t have any idea what tricks…I’m sorry…maneuvers you’re going to do?” Her voice was anxious.
“No, not right now. Skating is about the freedom to do whatever comes to me,” I said gently. “I know that scares you. I know you prefer to have a plan.”
“I trust you. I saw the video. I’m sure you’ll be amazing.”
I leaned over and whispered, “I work hard to be amazing.”
By the time the plane landed in DC, I was ready to get in some practice. After stopping off at the hotel and getting checked in—and noticing that we had a connecting door between our rooms—I headed over to the arena to check out the course.
The LSJ competition would begin the next day, and I would start with this open eleven-hour practice session. Tomorrow I would compete in the street qualifiers with just over one hundred skaters split into five heats.
I had barely finished a couple of runs across the course when I heard, “You’ve got to be kidding me. Smith? You’re the competition?”
Charlie Powell. The douche was here.
I turned around and faced him as he strode up to me with two other guys in tow. “Powell.”
“You are seriously going to compete in skateboarding? One lucky run on video doesn’t make you a star. Most people were probably clicking on it because of me or Dane.”
“Sure, Powell, whatever you say.”
One of the guys squinted at me and said, “Dane video.” His eyes widened. “That’s right. I thought I recognized you. You’re that guy that ripped it. Man, you were awesome! I watched that thing like twenty times.” His hand fisted and extended. I tapped it with mine.
“Ocean Beckett.”
“Gunner Smith.”
Powell huffed out a breath and said, “Come on, Beckett.”
“Good luck tomorrow, Gunner.”
“Yeah, he’s going to need it,” Powell said as he walked away.
I wish I could say I was nervous, but the only fear that lived in me was letting Lena and Max down, and I wasn’t going to do that.
—
Back in the hotel room, I noticed the connecting door was open, but I was sweaty. I had been riding for hours and probably smelled sketchy. I resisted going through.
“Gunner?” Lena’s voice came from the other side of the door.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m back, but I need a shower.”
She came into the room, smelling as fresh as she did when she was on the plane, the yellow bra strap a tantalizing tease. Her hair was all mussed like she’d been running her hands through it; I had discovered that she did that when she was nervous. I didn’t like it that she was worried about me. Despite the intimacy we’d shared, I still didn’t really know her that well. She was definitely sharp, and fearless. Which were both impressive qualities, and, I imagined, potentially quite intimidating when she wanted them to be. But that was the part of her I knew, the part the whole world knew if they cared to. What I wanted to know—was suddenly dying to know—was who she truly was when she let her guard down, and what she’d be like on a regular, everyday level. I’d only had a short time with her, and it was hard to picture having this normal life I was living; so every day I woke up with her was a study and adventure in normalcy. I loved it.
“How did it go? You’re frowning. Did you get hurt?”
The concern in her voice always blindsided me; it was so much more than worrying about me as an athlete. The way she treated me could get so addictive. If I was honest, that’s what scared me the most, even as it drew me in. “Powell was there, and he trash-talked as usual.”
I glanced over at her and found her staring at me in that intent, open way she sometimes did. I could imagine others found it unnerving, that sort of overt directness. And that she’d intended it to be. For me, it was more unsettling than unnerving. Despite the fact that we’d shared the same bed almost every night since we’d first slept together.
“Charlie Powell. He’s won the last three LSJ competitions. So he’s a blowhard,” she said with an eye roll.
“Yeah, as big as they come.” Charlie didn’t worry me. But the thought of my dad somewhere out there bothered me. I knew he wasn’t going to give up, and I didn’t know what he was planning, but I was sure it was going to be something to disrupt my new life. I didn’t want to jump at shadows, but it was just upsetting that
he was in league with Ray. Ray had his fingers in a lot of pies and knew how to play the game.
“Well, you know what they say about the bigger they come, the harder they fall.” She grinned, but I wasn’t in that kind of mood right now.
“He can’t seem to understand that it doesn’t bother me. He must’ve taken a course in that from my dad. He’s the master.” I hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but Lena stepped closer to me.
Her grin faded, and her eyes darkened. “What?”
“Nothing. Shower,” I said, avoiding her gaze. When it was focused on me, I wasn’t sure how to react. I didn’t want to end up like my dad, alone, without a family, with no one to turn to except a son who didn’t want him in his life. I was still sick from realizing that I’d shunned relationships my whole life but was well aware why—which only brought me right back around to my mom and sister. I had completely broken ties with them, and now I wanted to find them, but the deeply ingrained fear of a lifetime made me back off that thought every time it popped into my head.
I headed for the bathroom and started to strip down.
From the doorway Lena said, “Do you need someone to wash your back?”
I froze with my hands on the zipper of my pants, and my head jerked up at her soft voice. It didn’t sound like a sexual proposal. It sounded like she wanted to…do something nice for me.
Damn, I was so pathetic as my heart skipped a beat. She came into the bathroom and covered my hands. Leaning up, she kissed me on the mouth. “Come on, you must be tired and starved. I’ll stop asking you twenty questions.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to answer, Lena. It’s just a bad time.”
“It’s okay. I understand. I want to get to know everything about you. But it can wait until you’re ready. I don’t want to push you.”
She took off my pants and drew me to the shower where she spent only a few minutes soaping my body. I couldn’t keep my hands off her. She was slick, warm, and sweet and I loved being with her. More than I was willing to admit to her or myself.
It wasn’t long before I was kissing her, had my hands between her legs, making her as out of control as I felt. “You know what that is, right, baby? It’s adrenaline. It jacks me up, and I feed off it like a gladiator, like a burst of pure energy streaking across the sky. You want to taste that, Lena? You want to get close to that power, feel it course through you? Because from where I’m standing, you look like adrenaline.”
She kneaded my shoulder muscles. “Yes, I want to get close, so close to you.”
I wanted her so desperately, and tonight the need was deeper than it ever had been.
Just a chance to press against her, to connect with her, mouth to mouth, body to body, to see if she could save me just a little bit, just enough to make it easier to breathe, to take the steps toward what I so desperately wanted, but feared with every fiber of my being. She could be my safe harbor, my salvation all wrapped up in one sassy redheaded package.
She turned me inside out.
I wanted her, and she wanted me. It was so purely simple.
Arousal didn’t wash down through me. It had already been there, hard and hot, and heavy. I pushed her against the tiles, the water cascading down over us. I slid my hand around the side of her neck, cupping her face, and I lowered my mouth to hers.
Her response was to melt against me with a soft groan, her mouth open, welcoming me, her hands going to my chest, and that felt so good, her touching me.
I kissed her for endless minutes, my tongue sliding deep, my mouth slanted over hers, just letting the taste and softness of her seep into me.
Her hand came around the back of my neck, drawing me closer, and I gave in to it, letting her do her thing until she rocked her hips against mine. It was a small move, just a brush of her pelvis.
I grabbed the condom I placed on the side of the sink, but was back between one breath and the next. She slipped it on me, sending sensations through my already heated dick, like fireworks through my blood.
My kiss got harder, and I pushed into her, one long slick slide that sent her head back and her arms around my shoulders, holding on for dear life. I thrust into her again and again and again.
My tongue filled her mouth, and she bit and sucked on me, her little groans echoing in my mouth every time I pushed into her. Oh, damn. I was so into her, driving deep, hot and hard and fast, and just feeling her come apart all over me.
“Gun…Gunner…oh God…Gunner.” She strained against me, riding me, and when she tightened around me, I went straight over the edge, pumping into her one last time, and Oh God was right, it felt so good to come inside her.
So amazingly good.
I held myself still, letting it all roll over me, her sweet, sweet softness, the way she smelled, the smell of us together, the sound of her breathing in my ear. She tightened around me again, a small contraction of her inner muscles, and I let out a soft laugh, nuzzling the side of her slick neck.
“Keep your legs wrapped around me,” I said, carefully pulling myself free and repositioning my arms around her to keep her close. I set her down, but held on to her, disposing of the condom into the trash.
She sighed and kissed my neck and jaw.
“Lena.” I whispered her name and nuzzled her neck again. My mouth partly open on the tender place below her ear. She responded by sliding her fingers up into my hair, and it felt so good.
“Come on, baby,” I said, turning off the water and carrying her over to the towels. “Let’s get dried off.”
Afterward, we ate and talked a little about the LSJ competition and then went to bed together, snuggling down to sleep.
In the dark, I said softly, “My dad wasn’t always so bad.”
Lena tightened her hold on me, but kept silent.
The emotions backed up in my throat, and I couldn’t speak for a minute. I had almost forgotten those memories. It seemed that opening my heart to Lena was unfreezing everything I had numbed in my bitterness. In my attempt to keep my anger and unhappiness controlled and buried.
“It must have been awful for you to have to listen to your father talk you down when things got tough or didn’t go his way,” she finally said.
“Not my whole life, just after he hurt his back and couldn’t surf,” I said, my voice thick. She kissed my face, then my mouth, curling her body deeper into mine, and it was indescribable, this feeling of comfort and care that had so been lacking in my life. I didn’t know how to handle it. “Before that, he was decent. He taught me to skateboard, said it was a great cross-training tool, but when I spent almost all of my time on the board, he got crabby.”
“What happened to your dad’s back?”
“He hurt it in a surfing competition. After that, he started drinking, and that’s when he started changing and forcing me into surfing more.”
“Do you think you would have stuck with skateboarding, gone pro?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Skating has never been about competition for me. It’s about the ride and pitting myself against some insane odds, pushing beyond normal limits. Practice and practice until I’m bloody and bruised, reassess, find out what’s not working, refine it, and try again. It’s a study in stubbornness.”
“Oh, you’re stubborn? I hadn’t noticed,” she said breezily, and I wrapped her up and pulled her closer.
Tomorrow would dictate how I was going to take this journey. Both with Lena and with skateboarding.
I had a feeling that skateboarding was going to be the easier of the two.
—
I was riding strong. It was the second day of the LSJ competition, and I’d already won both Flow and Control. All that I had left was the Impact section, and I was going to be fourth up.
I noticed a cheering section that had formed for me earlier in the day. A larger audience than had been present the day before. Also, Falcon was here cheering me on and I still didn’t want to give into those feelings of friendship, but his support meant a lot to me.
Powell was scowling at me as I outscored him easily by getting 8.5s and 9s throughout. I hadn’t bailed once.
As my turn came up, my gut clenched hard. I spotted my dad in the audience. He was reeling and leaned heavily against the side of the course wall. He was searching. When he found me, he stared, and I almost missed my call-up.
“Gunner!” Ocean said, nudging me. “You’re up.”
I took a breath and tried to put his presence out of my head, unsure as to how he knew where I would be. Thank God for the nudge from Ocean. If I had held up the rotation, I would get disqualified, and my scores had already distanced me from the crowd. I was running hot in first place, the announcers already hailing me as one of the best new pros they’d ever seen.
As I took my running start, I knew what I was going to do. I pumped toward the five risers that made up the stairs and popped the nose of the board for an ollie, then kicked up and outward with my back foot to heel-flip the board, getting air for it to rotate. As soon as I saw the grip tape, I shoved the board down for a lateflip, which rotated it in the other direction. I landed it solid and skated to the end. The cameraman turned to me and said, “Dude! That was awesome!”
The announcers were yelling, and people were cheering. It was only my first of four tries. The announcer said, “Good catch—like a tractor beam—a magnet on that grip tape. That was insane! Who is this guy and where did he come from?”
The other announcer said, “Gunner Smith! That guy can get some air on pop! Someone to watch. A twenty-four-year-old phenom! I think we’re going to see more of him on this tour.”
The first announcer replied, “This kid’s bag of tricks is mind-blowing.”
Lena was jumping up and down and screaming. I walked back to the deck, and Ocean said, “Dude! Amazing!”
Powell said nothing as my score came up—9.9. But for the first time since I’d known him, he gave me the nod.
