HIS LAST FALL

by MEGAN MATTHEWS

  “Knox and I will never happen.”

  Marley continues to shake her head. “Because you won’t let it.”

  I refuse to respond and the conversation dies out, but my memories of the night I spent with Knox take up residence in my head. It’s easier to forget how much I enjoyed those few short hours together when he’s far away. But Marley’s right, having him this close and both of us being single does make my body yearn for something my brain knows isn’t a good idea.

  If I spend all day fantasizing about him naked I’m bound to do something stupid.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I’m doing something stupid.

  My heart won. Or maybe my body, since right now my attraction to Knox is a hormonal one. Regardless, the only thing I’m sure of is my brain lost the argument over whether this is a good idea. It most certainly is not a good idea, but I’m doing it anyway.

  “You getting out or what?” the cabbie asks in broken English and a slight New York accent. Maybe he’s watched too many episodes of Taxi. The meter runs and as long as I pay my bill I don’t know why he cares. But it’s enough to make me start moving.

  I toss some bills his way. It’s more than I need to pay for the cab and a nice tip. I’m still a little hazy on the conversion factor to American dollars, but at least they know I didn’t short him. I’ll add it to the list of expenses I send my brother. Transportation costs or something. He promised reimbursement for my expenses. This may not be exactly what he had in mind, but he’ll never notice. The evil thought brings a slight smile to my face when I exit the cab.

  The material of my pink snow pants brushes together as I walk up the long winding sidewalk to the front of the athletes’ corridors. I didn’t have one of those long brown trench coats women are always naked underneath when they walk into the guy’s house. There won’t be any sexy scene where I open a long jacket, exposing myself to Knox, and then we fall into a huge sex fest.

  But I wouldn’t be Reagan Jonsson if I didn’t have something planned.

  It’s February. I’m in another country. At an athletic event. My choices were limited. But Knox is a snowboarder so I assume he’s turned on by…different things than the general population. Hopefully it’s cheap plastic snow pants. It’s not like I could Amazon Prime myself something sexy. I’m hopeful he’ll see all my snow gear and the fact I’m naked underneath it as close enough to the same thing.

  A girl has to dream.

  And work within her means.

  Plus, a snowsuit in the middle of winter is a lot less of a giveaway than if I walked around in a trench coat and a pair of high heels. Who did those women think they were fooling, anyway?

  I walk through the front door of the complex at 10:58 p.m., two minutes before the athletes go on lockdown.

  Another benefit of the snowsuit. I look like I belong here.

  Really, this decision continues to get better and better. I stop in front of the elevator bank and hit the number for Knox’s floor. I’m alone on the ride up, slowly chanting, “I think I can. I think I can,” like the engine story Mom always read me at night. But when the elevator dings and the doors open, I freeze.

  I definitely can’t do this.

  It’s mostly a guarantee Knox is alone in his room because my brother will stay with Marley at the hotel, especially now that he is no longer competing this week. The problem isn’t if Knox is in his room. It’s if Knox is in his room alone.

  Two steps off the elevator, I stop in the middle of the hallway. If I turn right I head to the girls’ side of the floor. If I turn left I’m closer to Knox.

  Unable to make the decision I do nothing. Just take up space in the middle of the hallway thankful the elevators haven’t produced anyone else. It’s early in the games and many athletes have competitions coming up. As the week drags on and more people finish their events, the halls will get louder and rowdier. Especially the American floors.

  The longer I wait the more of my seductress persona evaporates. If I don’t do something soon I’ll end up a nervous wreck. Slipping my phone from my pocket I send Knox a quick text.

  Reagan: You awake?

  It takes him less than a minute to answer. I decide to take it as a good sign.

  Knox: Yeah. What’s up? The doors are closing in like a minute.

  Reagan: Are you in your room?

  As I type out the texts, the elevator doors open. A group of girls file off laughing together that they made it back in time. Right under the line. Asbell, the public relations director and general overseer of the athletes does not like it when Americans get locked out. To not draw more attention to myself, I laugh and casually walk toward the men’s area.

  I’m four rooms from Knox’s door when he responds.

  Knox: Yeah.

  I stop two doors away. My eyes boring holes in his room number.

  Reagan: Are you alone?

  This text comes as quickly as the previous.

  Knox: Yes? Is something going on?

  It takes me ten and a half strides to make it to his door. I use the smallest steps possible, but eventually I reach it anyway. The walls are painted a dull white color, maybe not paint at all, just the first coat of primer. With my cell phone back in the snowsuit pocket, I use a gloved hand to knock on his door three times. It’s quiet, but loud enough that in his tight area he should hear it.

  Only a matter of seconds pass but it feels like an eternity. I have at least four opportunities to turn around and head back to the elevator, giving up on this entire idea before Knox opens the door.

  “What’s up, Little Bean. Er, I mean Reagan.” He opens the door wider than the small crack he originally spotted me from.

  I take a step closer and push the door wider not wanting to stand in the hallway. “We need to talk. Let me in, please.”

  Knox, wearing a pair of black pajama pants with the official Gold Medal Games logo on them, returns to the room and settles on the bed. You’re not supposed to wear the official Gold Medal logo with any other logos — there’s a lot of crazy rules during these competitions. I can never keep them straight — but Knox has taken it to a new level by not wearing any shirt at all.

  Being a star athlete he’s not one of those guys who has to flex in order for you to see the muscle definition... everywhere. He wears those abs all the time. Six, maybe eight — I don’t want to get caught counting — line up in a nice little row on his stomach. It should be illegal to have actual abs, a hot face, and be a well-paid athlete. Does one man need all three? He could share a little with the common bloke. The guys people like me end up dating.

  “Were you on the hill? You know you can’t be on any of the trails in the dark,” he asks, his eyes trailing up and down over my outfit.

  I probably do look ridiculous between the thick snow pants and puffy jacket. My accessories for the evening, a pair of mittens and a wool stocking hat, are still on my head and hands rather than having been taken off like everyone else does when they get in the building. But I needed to give myself enough time to make sure what I’m doing is the right choice. The more layers the better.

  “We’ve known each other for a long time. Haven’t we, Knox?” I ask removing one glove and tossing it on the small desk they put in each room. I pop out a hip trying for sexy, but even Jessica Rabbit couldn’t make taking off a glove sexy.

  He looks at me like he has a million questions to ask but is afraid. “Yes, of course we have.”

  “Do you remember what happened a few years ago?” I remove the second glove and toss on top of the first.

  “You’ll have to be more specific,” he says but then does this cute little nervous laughter afterward, which makes me think he knows exactly what I’m talking about.

  “The night we both had too much to drink and ended up doing the horizontal mambo?” I pull the hat off in one fluid move, tossing it on the table as well and fluffing my hair. The whole point is to look sexy not like I touched an electrical outlet.

  Knox laughs again, his ner
ves showing. “I’ll never forget it, but you were very drunk. I’m surprised you remember.”

  The confession confuses me and I hesitate in my undressing. There’s always been a small part of me that assumed he forgot about our night together. What does it mean? He’s had memories for the last two years and didn’t do anything? Not even a suggestion he might remember?

  It’s too late to back out now. I unzip the top portion of my jacket. “Well I’m not drunk tonight.”

  Knox leans back on the bed. “No, it appears you are not.”

  I finish unzipping the jacket. The sides fall open, but not enough to expose my naked breasts. “Do you want to try it again?” My hand shakes so I grab on to the bottom of the jacket ready to zip it back up or toss it over my shoulders depending on his answer.

  “Right now?” Knox’s eyes are wide. His elbows locked, holding himself up on the bed.

  I take that as a yes. I drop the jacket over my shoulders and allow it to fall to the floor at my feet. “No time like the present.”

  Knox gulps. “Are you sure about this? Because after the last time I want to make sure you understand what you’re getting into.”

  Now is not the time or place to get into a discussion about the last time. I only have so much nerve built up. “I’m sure.” I unbutton and unzip my snow pants, shimmying them down my hips.

  “No, Reagan, you have to be absolutely sure. Because if we do this, we are going to do this.”

  I have no idea what that means, but I’m not looking to find out right this moment. With the snow pants past my hips, I let go and allow them to drop to the floor before stepping out of the balled up clothes and placing myself closer to the bed.

  A small distance away from the edge, I stop. “I’m yours if you want me. All you have to do is come and get me.” There goes the craziest words I’ve ever said in my entire life. Immediately after I finish, I suck in a huge breath of air in case Knox decides sex with me isn’t what he wants at the last minute.

  Thank the heavens he doesn’t. There isn’t time to expel my breath before he grabs onto my middle and pulls me on the bed. My head hits the pillow, bounces once, and then Knox’s lips are on me. He lines us up, his hands sinking into my hair.

  “So,” he says between kisses, “you agree that we’re doing this then?”

  “Of course we’re doing it.” Like I came to his room naked to not do it.

  Knox lowers his head, kissing my neck softly. His hands explore my body, his kisses detouring lower. His tongue licks against my left nipple and I moan. He sucks. My fingers catch in his hair and pull when my back arches off the bed. His head lowers and my fingers lose their grip as he trails a line of kisses across my pubic bone before dropping lower.

  “How long have you been this ready for me, Reagan?”

  Since the cab, I say, but only in my head. I’m spared a real answer when he parts my lower lips and his tongue swipes across my exposed clit. “Oh my God,” I practically shout.

  Knox lifts his head. “Shhhhh, these walls are thin and no one gets to hear you but me.”

  His tongue continues to twist and turn, hitting all the important areas. My body jerks on the bed, but without my fingers in his hair I have nothing to hold on to. I grab a sheet, twisting and pulling it in wonderful agony. My stomach tightens as the orgasm builds. Starting in my core, my chest tightens. I hold my breath waiting for the delicious release.

  Knox circles my opening with two fingers before there’s a few quick rubs and I’m holding my breath as my body tightens. My eyes squeeze closed as my back arches toward the ceiling. I do my best to muffle my moan with a hand over my mouth, but the orgasm takes over and I open in a silent scream.

  Knox’s pants come as hard as mine when he raises his head from between my legs. “Please, dear God, tell me you brought a condom.”

  “In the,” I suck in air between each word, “right pocket of my snow pants.”

  My body falls back to the bed as my muscles uncoil. Knox is just as fucking amazing as I remember him. A small section of my mind has always thought maybe my alcohol-riddled mind made him out to be better than he was. Or worse, maybe I wasn’t as good at the deed as I thought and that’s why he never mentioned it.

  But that? What he just did. That was amazing.

  Those three and a half minutes were all the reminder I need to reassure me Knox and I fit.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The athletes’ dorms are quiet this morning. A few early-morning skiers and snowboarders wander back and forth, waiting until the mountain opens and practice can begin. There’s an event today, the slopestyle, and the air tingles with excitement. There’s an event every day, but this one is different. It’s part of our team. And while most of our fans are out rooting for the various athletes taking part in the qualifiers this morning, those diehard of us — the family members — will take up perches at the athlete compound. As more events finish, more space becomes available for boarders. Knox and many of the seasoned guys will stay here rather than make the trip to the hotel every day. The views aren’t as good and the chairs not as comfy, but it’s less travel for them. It’s a perk of being around longer than anyone else.

  I shouldn’t be anywhere near the athletes’ building. I should be back in my nice warm bed at the hotel, mummied in between the covers. Or I should be in Knox’s room, my head lying on his chest as we both sleep the last few minutes until wakeup time. Except the world I live in sucks and neither of those things happened.

  This morning when I slowly peeled my eyes open ready to make a mad dash back to my room and leave the scene of the crime before Knox could wake up. I rolled over only to discover he wasn’t there. This time he did the sleep and flee. And we were in his room! I’ve spent the last two years thinking Knox didn’t remember our first foray between the sheets. Spending the rest of my life thinking he regrets what we did last night will be even worse.

  I’m going to become a nun.

  First I’ll have to become Catholic.

  To make myself even more pathetic, I waited more than twenty minutes for Knox to come back. I kept thinking it would be one of those situations where he snuck off to get us a cup of coffee. He was in the snack room working on a surprise for me.

  But Knox never came back.

  There was never any coffee.

  After I slowly redressed, giving him plenty of time to return and call me a fool for doubting him, I cabbed it back to my hotel, took a quick shower and dressed for the day. I planned to stay in my room, watch some foreign TV, and eat lunch off the room service menu, but Marley had different ideas. She stopped to wake me up and was pleasantly surprised to find me already “ready to greet the day.” Those are her sugar-laden words, not my own.

  I was not ready to greet the day.

  There were a lot of false promises made, but I can’t be faulted for all of them. I needed to get Marley out of my room as quickly as possible so she didn’t question what my problem was or notice my bed wasn’t ruffled from sleeping in it last night. I lied my way out of breakfast with her and my brother, but only because I’d promised to meet her right here at the small athletes viewing room, on the dot, at nine.

  It’s currently 9:32 and either she went looking for me or the lovebirds are taking longer than planned at breakfast. I didn’t want to share a cab because cab time means time for her to ask questions. The less questions the better.

  At least somebody is happy.

  “Well, look who’s here. I thought your brother was done competing.” A tall, scruffy dirty blond haired member of my brother’s snowboarding team drops into the large leather chair next the couch I occupy.

  “Cyrus.”

  “That’s all I get? Cyrus?” He widens his eyes and lifts an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair as if I’ve somehow offended him.

  Fine. I may have been a little harsh. “It’s important to support all the teammates, right? My brother and Marley will be here in a few minutes.” They better be here.

  I actual
ly don’t have anything against Cyrus. He’s a pretty cool guy. This is his second gold-medal event on the snowboarding team. Four years ago he took home a bronze medal for the American team.

  “Are you always here?” he asks.

  I take that back. He’s super annoying. “Supporting the team, remember?”

  “Yeah. I heard you. I don’t think you have to be quite so dressed up to support the team. Why don’t you get out and have some fun? Explore the city.” He kicks his feet up on the table like he’s given me some life-altering advice.

  It’s annoying. Plus, he pointed out I’m dressed up.

  “We’re supposed to keep a professional presence to support and make the team look good.” It’s definitely the single reason I put more time and concern to my looks today. I’m sporting a pair of dark wash skinny jeans with black tall boots and the long sleeve V-neck T-shirt I accidentally ordered a size too small. You never know if they’re going to be cotton or not. It’s not my fault it shrunk.

  “Why aren’t you practicing?” If he gets to ask random questions, then so do I.

  His face immediately lights up, his lips stretching from ear to ear. “See the girl in the green pants?”

  “Yeah.” I squint to make her out in the growing crowd of snowboarders. A big orange board as tall as her leans against her side.

  “That’s Charlie. We’ve been best friends since as far as I remember. It’s her first gold-medal event.”

  “I see.” I stick my feet on the coffee table, mimicking his position. “And you’ve been in love with Charlie for how long?”

  His eyes narrow, and he drops half of his smile. “I am not. She’s my best mate. And I’m here to support her.”

  “Uh-huh.” Like I’m here to support Knox, I’m sure.

  “She’s amazing. Placed first in her time trials and was selected as team co-captain her first year.”

  I’ll give it to him. Those are some pretty impressive achievements. But his earlier smile was about a lot more than her downhill times.