by Lori Wilde
What could a change in wardrobe hurt? She didn’t usually go in for belly-baring styles, but why not? No one in Silverton Heights would ever need to know she was prancing around Sedona with her navel on display.
“And, you’ve worn your hair in the same don’t-muss-me style since you were a teenager,” Tess mused.
“You think I should cut my hair?”
Gulp.
“The spa’s salon is supposed to be world-class. Go ahead. Whack it all off. Make a bold statement. Cut it short and sassy in one of those unruly artistic styles. I think it would look fabulous.”
“Isn’t that kind of drastic?”
“Drastic is the key. Besides, it’s just hair, Abby. It’ll grow back.”
Tentatively she reached up to touch her smooth, obedient shoulder-length tresses. Shearing it off would be a bold step. Was she ready for this?
If you can’t even cut your hair, how can you hope to have exciting sex adventures with Durango?
“Come on. Liberate yourself.” Tess made cutting motions with her fingers. “Snip, snip,” she dared.
DURANGO SPRINTED into the lobby of the Tranquility resort spa at 5:06 a.m. the following morning, heading for the courtesy phone at the front desk. He sailed right past Abby before it registered who she was.
He stopped in mid-stride and slowly turned around to face her. His jaw dropped.
“Abby?”
She was standing to one side of the door, illuminated in the soft glow of ambient lighting from the chrome wall sconces. She wore the tiniest turquoise top that hugged her breasts and rib cage but went no lower. The skimpy shirt showcased her taut, amazing abdomen and perfectly shaped navel.
They had dated for almost three months when they were teens and he’d never seen her navel. Now she was giving him full view. Somehow it felt naughtier than if she’d been totally naked.
But the surprises didn’t stop there. He was speechless to discover she had chopped off all her long, sleek, beautiful hair and he didn’t hate it. In fact, he found the short, sexy flirty style irresistible. The sassy cut shouted fun, fun, fun. And the fringed, side-swept bangs emphasized both her wide hazel eyes and her full sensuous mouth.
A heady concoction of testosterone-driven adrenaline flooded his brain with a barrage of carnal images.
In a blinding flash he saw them, arms and legs entangled, their sweaty bodies lying in a panting heap, their senses raw with the taste and sound and sight of each other, their bodies throbbing and sensitive from the aftermath of diabolically great sex.
The thought of being the one to unleash her pent-up passion weakened his knees and made his heart chug sluggishly.
He was so excited by the changes in her, it was all Durango could do not to ask the desk clerk for a room, scoop Abby into his arms, storm upstairs like Rhett Butler with Scarlett O’Hara and ravish her senseless. But he’d promised her wild, unconventional sex. Besides, he wanted her as desperately hot for him as he was for her.
Until then, he would contain himself.
If he could—
“Durango?” she interrupted his fevered reverie with a timid tone in her voice.
“I…I…” he stammered, “didn’t recognize you.”
He’d been looking for his elegantly groomed, conformist Abby, not this rebellious, sexy imp. Self-consciously, she reached up to touch her hair. It lay flat against the nape of her neck, exposing the creamy curve of her shoulder.
“What do you think about my hair?” she asked. “It was Tess’s idea.”
“Never mind what I think,” he said. “Here’s the important question. What do you think?”
“I don’t know.” She was studying his face, trying to gauge his reaction. “I haven’t had time to get used to it.”
Durango wanted to tell her it didn’t matter to him whether her hair was long or short, sleek or tousled. What made her his Angel was her ready smile, easygoing laugh and compassionate heart, but he wasn’t sure she was ready to hear it.
Nor was he so sure he was ready to say it. Things were still too iffy between them.
“Yes, you do know. Abby, do you like your new haircut?” He was determined to break her of this habit of seeking everyone else’s approval before forming her own opinion.
“I…well…”
“Answer the question,” he growled.
“Okay, I like it. In fact, I think I love it. It’s so carefree and easy and I feel ten pounds lighter and younger than I have in years.”
“I like it too,” he said.
“Oh, thank heavens.” She exhaled and it was only then he realized she’d been holding her breath. “I was afraid you would hate it.”
“Even if I did hate it, which I don’t, it’s your hair. Wear it however you want. Stop looking outside yourself for validation.”
“Do I really do that?”
“Yes, you do.”
“How do I stop?”
“Come on.” He reached for her hand. “I’m going to show you.”
The pulse in her neck throbbed as hard and fast as his own heartbeat, but she took his hand and let him escort her to the Jeep.
It was still dark outside and the tandem hang glider he’d borrowed from Sunrise was strapped to the roof. He helped her inside, then hurried around, got in and started the engine.
“I brought you hot chocolate and a blueberry muffin.” He nodded at the sack on the seat between them.
“You remembered I drink cocoa and not coffee,” she said, and he could tell from her tone of voice and the soft look in her eyes that she was touched by his gesture. “That was so thoughtful of you.”
For no good reason he felt oddly embarrassed. “What can I say? You made an impression on me. They say you never forget your first love.”
“I wasn’t your first love,” she scoffed. “You went out with lots of girls before me.”
“I had girlfriends, yes, but you were the first one I went gaga over.”
“You were just hot for me because I wouldn’t ride on your motorcycle, or put out.”
Her tone was light, teasing and, while there was some truth in her statement, his attraction went far beyond the thrill of the chase. He had remembered her in a way he hadn’t remembered any of the others.
She’d been special and it wasn’t simply because she’d been the one who got away. She’d intrigued him because she’d been so perfect in an untouchable way and he’d had the unrelenting urge to muss her up.
Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because she was the one who broke your heart.
Abby sipped her cocoa and Durango reached over to switch on the radio. Knowing she liked classical music, he tuned it to that station.
“Why don’t you put it on something hard driving,” she said. “Rock or hip-hop or rap.”
“Why? You don’t like that stuff.”
“But you do.”
“Stop trying to please me.”
“I’m not. I’m trying to discover what it is that I really like. It just occurred to me that I listen to classical music because that’s what my father has always listened to.”
“Okay.” He dialed in a popular dance station that played a variety of high-energy tunes.
He shot her a surreptitious glance as he drove, still trying to get used to the hair. Had she cut it to show him she was ready to escalate their relationship?
Whoo-boy.
He hoped he hadn’t bitten off more than he could chew. He had shot off his big mouth and told her he could show her how to feel passion. Now that she was sitting here next to him, he wasn’t so sure. He could show her his passions, but could he help her find her own?
A jittery sensation akin to panic clenched inside him. Okay, he was panicking.
Big time.
What if he failed her? What if he couldn’t shake her out of her comfort zone? What if she freaked out on the hang glider the way she’d freaked out when he had tried to take her for a ride on his Ducati? What if she decided he was too much for her?
Over the
course of his twenty-eight years, he’d shared his passions with many women. Some had taken to their adventures wholeheartedly, others had tossed in the proverbial towel, unable to handle the intensity of his extreme lifestyle.
But this was different. This was Abby. Her whole future lay in his hands. If he failed her, she would go back to the life someone else had chosen for her, never having realized how huge the world was outside Silverton Heights.
No. Durango refused to let her down. Abby had come to him for help and he intended to devote himself to igniting her passion. One way or the other, he would succeed. She deserved to know the rapturous bliss just waiting for her if she learned to trust in herself and embrace her desires.
By the time they reached the launch site several miles outside of Sedona, the Jeep was throbbing with the pounding beat and the sun was peeking over the horizon.
Abby helped him unchain the hang glider from the roof of the Jeep, and ten minutes later they were standing on top of the launch slope strapped into the tandem harness together. The air was fairly chilly this time of day and she was glad she’d brought a sweater even though she figured she’d be shrugging out of it soon.
“How you doing?” Durango asked.
“Nervous.”
“Nothing to be scared of. I’m right here.” He squeezed her shoulder.
She clamped a death grip on the harness strap and peered over the side of the slope, trepidation causing her heart to pound.
“The plane seems so flimsy.” She eyed the light metal structure.
“It’s very sturdy.” He rocked it for her to see that it wasn’t going to fall apart in flight.
“How do you steer it?”
“I hold on to the control bar and shift my weight in relationship to the glider.”
“Sounds complicated.”
“It’s not. But you just relax. I’ll all do the work.”
“Sounds a lot like sex,” she joked.
“Not with me it doesn’t. When we get around to the sex, I expect you to work up as much of a sweat as I do. Far as I’m concerned, you give as good as you get.”
“Oookay.” The expression in his eyes rattled her to the core. It was if he knew she’d never been very athletic or inspired in the bedroom.
“Does that scare you?”
“I just hope I don’t disappoint.”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m a very patient man. Both in bed and out.”
“What if I hate hang gliding?” she said, quickly changing the subject before she started sneezing uncontrollably.
“You just let me know and we’ll land. But be forewarned, once we’re committed to the launch, we’re committed until we’re in the air.”
“All right.”
“But give it a chance.”
“I wish I had a Valium,” she muttered.
“You don’t need medication. You can do this. I have faith in you.”
He knew it was the right thing to say. She hated to disappoint anyone. She blew out her breath and squared her shoulders. “I’ll give it my best shot.”
“Hey, if you can cut all your hair off, this will be a piece of sponge cake, babe,” he said, and then gave her a short preflight briefing.
She was placing herself at his mercy, trusting him. It was a big step for her. She couldn’t believe she was actually doing this. The woman who was once too afraid to even ride on the back of his motorcycle was about to jump off a cliff with flimsy wings strapped to her back.
“The weather’s perfect. There’s a smooth breeze coming up the slope. I’ll just radio into Sunrise and give them our flight plan.” He called in on his two-way radio and gave their location and landing coordinates to the Sunrise dispatcher.
“Now we’re ready,” he said, clipping the radio to his belt. “Helmets on.”
They strapped on their helmets in unison.
Abby blew out her breath. “What next?”
“We start running down the hill. Just run as hard as you can.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. Here we go. On three. One, two, three.”
They took off over the edge of the cliff.
“Keep running as hard as you can until we’re airborne,” Durango coached. “Hang on to the harness strap and don’t grab on to the control bar at any time during flight.”
“Okay,” she said breathlessly, legs pumping.
And then they were in the air, suspended by their harnesses, flying side by side in a prone position, the wind beneath their wings lifting them higher and higher into the sky.
Durango’s shoulder grazed against hers. His body was slightly above hers and when he moved to steer the craft his hip bumped provocatively against her behind.
“Oh,” Abby gasped, fascinated as much by his nearness and the brush of his body as the rush of the flight.
She was acutely aware of everything. His manly scent, the sensation of weightlessness, the vastness of the view, the intoxicating taste of freedom on her tongue.
“You all right?”
“Perfect,” she whispered. “Absolutely perfect.”
The glider soared over the earth, whispery as a feather, light as foam. The silence astounded her. A hawk circled gracefully not far away.
Breathtaking scenery stretched below. Red rock canyons, enchanted buttes, antediluvian steeples regally dotted the landscape like Zen helixes transmitting primordial voltage into the atmosphere.
Abby felt it. The power. The energy. The thrill. It was a current of vitality emanating simultaneously from the earth, the air and their bodies.
She sneaked a glance over at Durango. The expression curling his lips was as awe inspiring as the spectacular vistas drifting beneath them.
The cool yellow-orange fingers of sunrise caressed his face. His eyes were alight with a rarefied glow, the smile on his mouth beatific. He was flying far beyond her, his mind kissing the heavens.
How she wanted to go there with him.
He cruised on the thermals, his full attention focused on maneuvering the glider. She could study him and he wouldn’t notice. They swooped and circled, wheeled and rose. Two human birds experiencing the sky.
This then, Abby thought, watching the sunlight play across Durango’s euphoric features, is what they mean by passion. He loved what he was doing. Loved flying and nature and autonomy.
Durango had passion for the sky. For adventure. For life. He had what she wanted.
Idly she wondered if this was what his face looked like when he was having sex. Totally absorbed, blissful, engaged. That irreverent thought set her whole body to tingling.
Abby felt a corresponding cacoëthes begin to bud inside her. A tiny knot of something so special she feared that if she examined the feeling too closely it would vanish. Enough to say she felt a lightness, a joy she had never experienced.
She savored it. Basking in the wind against her skin, the heat of the rising sun warming her cheeks, the birdlike sensation of skimming over the earth.
It felt like liberty and redemption rolled into one. Up here, who could have worries or fears, dreads or concerns?
For the moment, she was completely free.
Durango, she whispered to herself and his name felt like a prayer. Durango.
“I see a good spot to land,” he said, pointing at the desert floor.
“Already?”
“We’ve been up over an hour. General rule of thumb for a first flight is only twenty minutes.”
“We’ve been up an hour? Really?”
“It’s been eighty minutes,” he confirmed, and twisted his wrist around so she could see his watch.
“Wow. I would have guessed ten.” She couldn’t believe it. She’d been so caught up in the flight, time had ceased to exist. She’d been in the zone.
“Besides, we’re near some ancient Indian ruins that aren’t on any tourist’s map. I thought you might like to see those while we wait for the pickup crew to retrieve us.”
“Sounds interesting,” she s
aid, although she was reluctant to leave the sky. They couldn’t keep this up forever, could they? Swooping and soaring and dancing with the clouds.
“I’m going to position myself above you,” he said, “as we come down.” His voice was throaty and the way he said “come” and “down” embellished the words with thick innuendo.
“Come on down,” she whispered, teasing him with the same suggestive tone.
She felt so light. So bold.
He put his arms on either side of her shoulders. His chest was pressed against her back. His pelvis was even with her bottom. The breeze gently rocked him into her, his zipper bouncing against the seam of her jeans.
Bump, bump, bump.
Abby’s body flushed with sudden, painful need. She closed her eyes, but that was worse because she saw them flying naked, his penis slowly sliding in and out of her as they rocked in tandem.
In and out. A sweet, sensuous aerial glide.
Holy cow, she was a freakin’ pervert. She shook her head and opened her eyes.
Stop it. Stop it.
Durango triggered the pneumatic wheels for landing and to bleed off the speed. The earth rushed up to greet them.
“Start running if your legs hit the ground before the wheels do,” he said.
But Abby, who couldn’t shake the erotic feeling of Durango’s fly bumping against her butt, lost her concentration. She stumbled and fear squeezed hard, replacing her earlier euphoria. Panic-stricken, she grabbed for the control bar.
“Hands off the control bar,” Durango yelled at her.
She jerked back and fell to her knees. The glider was dragging her through the dirt.
“Abby, get up,” he said urgently, and reached for her.
She stuck out her hand and he glanced down to grab for it. He pulled her back up, but by the time he regained control, they were already in trouble.
“Oh shit,” he said, whipping the glider around.
“What! What is it?” she cried just as her legs dipped down again and her bottom slammed into something firm and a stinging pain shot up her backside.
“Cactus!”
6
DURANGO HAD TRIED his damnedest to steer out of the cactus patch but no such luck—a saguaro got Abby in the end. Literally. At least he’d managed to avoid the vicious cholla cactus.
