Fly (Wild Love Book 2)

by Red L. Jameson

  I shake my head. “You’ve got me all wrong.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Yes, you really, really do. I’m not—I’m not beautiful. I have freckles, which you can probably see. And I’m not good. I’m not—your mom won’t like me. I—don’t forget, I’m pregnant. I’m alone and pregnant. I’m no one.”

  If I’m not careful, I’m going to cry. I do have to blink a lot to keep the stinging in my eyes at bay. So, again, because I’m busy with myself, I don’t catch on to what he’s doing, which is sweeping in and kissing my lips.

  Unlike last night, he’s not rough. He’s gentle. He’s a feather against me. He dances his mouth against mine. Once. Twice. By the third time, I press my lips against his in a firm hold. I can’t help it. He moans and holds me by the nape of my neck. He’s tunneling his fingers through my hair, and it feels so good. He kisses along my cheek, nibbling my ear.

  “You’re a Pulitzer Prize nominee,” he whispers, “and even when you aren’t taking pictures for the Pulitzer, you still manage to capture images that take my breath away. I saw that shot you took of the buffalo. You made him look saintly, angelic. Amazing.” He sucks in my lobe, making me moan and arch my back, my breasts pushing against his iron-like chest. “And I’ve never noticed your freckles before, but I love them.” His tongue licks its way down my neck where he bites me gently. “I want to count every single one and start all over again. I want to memorize them. I want to stare at your freckled face until you tell me to stop, because you are so fucking gorgeous.” He maneuvers to the other side of my neck, biting and sucking his way to my ear. “And my mom, who I know pretty damned well, would adore you. But I don’t want to talk about her while I’m kissing you. I only want to talk about you.”

  I somehow pull away from his amazing mouth and hands, shaking my head, one hand on his chest, right over his sternum where I feel his heart pounding. “That’s not how it’s going to work with me, H.” Then I reach up on my toes and kiss his neck. Hearing him hiss for breath and clutch at my hips is reward enough, but I want to make a point. “You’re a very good man, H. You’re so good. Too good for me.”

  He shakes his head and kisses my ear. “No.”

  I suckle his lobe, making him groan again. Oh, he is so responsive and I’m loving it. “You’re a kind, generous, beautiful man, and I want to stare at you until you tell me to stop.”

  He chuckles at my mimicry.

  After I kiss along the very top of his cheekbone, I say, “And I want you to quit beating yourself up. You’re perfect, you know that?”

  He pulls me away then reaches down for a rougher kiss. “I don’t care if I’m not good enough for you,” he says, huffing for air. “I’ll become a better man for you.”

  “You already are. You’re—”

  “Okay. Good,” a loud voice says.

  H and I peel away from each other, turning and looking at Jay, standing about twenty feet away.

  “Well, you found her. Good.” Jay’s shaking his head, looking at me then H, his gaze dark. His face tense. “I’ll just leave you two—”

  “Kiss him,” H says, surprising not just me, but Jay too.

  19

  God, I want to kiss Jay so much. My legs tremble as I walk closer to him. He’s standing there—not wearing a coat either, the snow gathering on his head and shoulders, looking slightly pissed and maybe jealous. And I like that so much. I know I shouldn’t. But I do.

  Jay swallows as I get nearer, all the tension in his face and body shifting from anger to something else. He shakes his head as he studies me. “I don’t know what you did, but you’re more beautiful than I’ve ever seen you. The light from the streetlight bouncing off the snow in your hair, it’s like a halo. And—”

  I interrupt his lovely speech by sweeping up and kissing him.

  Jay turns our bodies so he’s slightly dipping me. It’s like a movie kiss. I’ve never kissed like this before. No one’s ever dipped me. It’s utterly romantic, which maybe I should laugh at. But it feels too good to do anything other than submit to the warmth of Jay, the way he’s holding my body, the way his lips are pressed against mine.

  We don’t move for a long time, but then he begins to turn his head. My face pivots the opposite direction and he’s in my mouth. He’s groaning and stroking my tongue and holding me so close. I wonder if I do hear some kind of symphony then, like what would happen in a chic flick, where the hero saves the girl, saves the world, and they all live happily ever after.

  I pull away slightly, realizing, yet again, I’m no princess. I’m no heroine in a movie. I’m just me. Bumbling, loud, silly me.

  Jay rights both of us, helping me stand on my own again. “Too much?”

  I shake my head but tears threaten to brim over the edge of my eyes in a quick second.

  “I’ve wanted to kiss you since I first opened the door of your Jeep.” His voice is low and rumbles through my body, and I would love it, except all of a sudden I’m thinking about how very much I’m not like some woman who needs rescuing. Or am I?

  God, yes, I’d love to be rescued by these two knights in shining armor. I’d love for them to take care of me and my baby for the rest of my life. I’d love to never have to worry about finding a date ever again. I’d love to live in a fairy tale.

  But I live in reality where I’m single and pregnant.

  “What’s wrong?” H asks. “I thought you’d want to kiss him.”

  I nod and cover my mouth with my white-gloved hand.

  “Did I do it wrong?” Jay’s voice cracks. “Before you, I haven’t kissed a woman in—god, it’s embarrassing how long it’s been. Maybe I did it wrong.”

  I shake my head and take a step away but bump into H. Then I’m stumbling away from him, but he grabs my arm.

  “Are we moving too fast?” He looks at Jay. “I knew we were moving too fast.”

  I yank my elbow from him, shaking my head.

  “What—what—”

  Before H can finish his question, I blurt, “What the hell are you doing?”

  Both H and Jay blink.

  “I’m pregnant. I mean, you don’t want to be with a pregnant lady.” Then I back away as a terrible thought comes over me. “Oh god, this was just about sex. You thought me some desperate floozy…oh god…” I can’t get away from them fast enough.

  It’s my worst nightmare. Only, I’ve lived it with every man I’ve slept with.

  I’m running as fast as I can while shaking my head and trying so damned hard not to cry. Of course, I’d assumed they might like me, might want a future with me because I’m a freaking moron. I’m a romantic idiot, although I constantly tell myself I’m not, who always thinks I will have a future with a man. And, the worst part is I was just making plans to never be with a man again.

  But then the second I saw H my backbone vanished.

  God.

  Someone grabs my elbow and wheels me around so I smack into him. It’s a wall of strength against me, and I feel so weak from being a complete fool.

  My other elbow is captured, even though I’m snug against H. Again.

  “I would never think of you as just sex,” Jay says quickly.

  “It’s because I was moving too fast, isn’t it?” H is also talking so fast it’s hard to decipher what he’s saying. “God damn it, I knew I was moving too fast for you.”

  I try to get away from both of them, but H and Jay are holding me firmly by my arms.

  “Sweetheart, listen, you’re not just sex to me,” Jay’s voice is getting louder as he tries to keep a grip on my elbow. “Just listen, will you?”

  I swallow and try to laugh, because I’m always good at laughing away my emotions, that’s the best way to cover them up. But I instantly cry.

  God, I hate my hormones.

  “I—I don’t understand what’s going on,” I whine, hating the way I sound.

  H is wiping my left cheek, Jay the other, both looking bewildered by my tears and brutally determined to…knowing them
, they probably do want to rescue me. I wonder if it’s in our genetic code—this rescuing thing. All the fairy tales have it. It’s just…is it at all real? Worse, I’m not sure I could look at myself in the mirror if I let them save me, because I’d never know if they were trying to rescue me because of some intrinsic thing or out of a sense of obligation or what exactly.

  “We have no fucking idea,” H says softly. “No idea at all what’s going on.”

  “It was a kiss,” Jay says a tad defensively.

  “Two kisses,” I retort.

  “Just a couple of kisses, sweetheart.” H shakes his head. “I mean, Jesus—yeah, I want you. I want to have you in bed. I’ll admit it. But I’m more than willing to wait. And I think Jay is too. However long it takes. We’ll wait.”

  I sniff. “But you said—I’m so confused.”

  “It’s not like we were trying to find a woman we were both attracted to and see where it would go,” Jay adds. “I have no idea how this kind of thing happens. But it seems like all the signs are pointing to…well, not just having sex with you, Dee. That’s for damned sure.”

  “Signs?”

  “He’s talking about the German tourists and your sister-in-law.” H rakes a hand through his already tussled hair, one shiny black strand falling down to this jaw.

  “Hell, there were even those three swans.” Jay nods to himself.

  “I don’t believe in signs.”

  Both of the men are quiet. Jay furrows his brows.

  But it’s H who throws his hands up. “At this point, sweetie, why not believe in signs? I mean, I think I’m one of the biggest cynics of all time, but even the swans got me to think…think…maybe we could, as in all of us, have a relationship. I mean, it’s different, and I know I’m not a good enough man for you. Maybe Jay and I, together, can be.”

  I narrow my eyes at H. “I thought we already discussed this. Why do you keep saying you’re not good enough for me when—”

  “Because I’m monumentally fucked up,” H roars. He shakes his head and turns from both Jay and me, gripping his hair again. But then he pivots and points a finger at my chest. “You know why I don’t have a fucking job? And I sure as shit should have one because my mom got me interview after interview when I got home. I went to those interviews, wearing a goddamned tie, wondering if I might hang myself from it after, because during each interview…all I could think about was a dog in Afghanistan.” He glances at Jay. “Remember Kunduz?”

  Jay nods, looking at him more seriously.

  H tilts his head up, gazing at the snow falling on his face, melting instantly. “It’s so insignificant. It was at the time. I didn’t even think about it. But we’re there, at Kunduz, right?” He glances at me then away, swallowing. The light from a streetlight illuminates him, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “I—I ordered a guy to shoot a dog. The dog was barking, ruining our mission. So the dog had to be quiet. I gave the order. And I can’t stop fucking thinking about that.”

  “LT—”

  But before Jay can say anything any else, H growls and waves his arms in the air. “I gave so many fucking orders. And I can’t remember if any of them were right. I can’t make sense of it any more. And I keep thinking about the fact that I’m an asshole who had a dog shot. Who the fuck would want to hire me? I mean, I’m a monster who has a dog shot, but that’s the least of the shit I did. I shouldn’t—I can’t exist in society any more. But I will fucking kill myself if I go back to the military. I—I can’t fucking exist. Anywhere.”

  Then it’s my turn to grab him. I yank at his arm with all my might to make him look at me.

  I understand now the desire to rescue. Because I will do anything for H, to have him feel…I’m scared he’s dangerously close to suicidal if not already there. I’m so scared to lose him even though I hardly know him. But what I do know of him is that he’s funny, charming, witty. And has a heart.

  What he might not understand, but I do too well, is how few people have a heart that they are willing to show to another. I, unfortunately, always feel like I’m exposing mine and getting told to stop being so vulnerable. But—but what is this life if not to feel it? Are we merely supposed to get through the days, not noticing the snow falling on our faces? The surprising cold sprinkling down? The pure white that’s always trying to shower us, baptize us, make us feel new again?

  I grab H’s face between my hands. He’s cold and I think of taking off my coat to give to him, but he’s already struggling to get away from me. He could easily push me away. He’s strong enough to do all sorts of things to gain distance. But, and this is why I like him so much, he’s trying to be gentle with me. Even through his pain, his unbearable pain, he’s thinking of me.

  “You’re a good man,” I whisper.

  He’s shaking his head.

  “You’re such a good man,” I say a little louder.

  “I fucking—”

  “It doesn’t matter.” I swallow, praying the right words will come to me. “None of that matters. I mean, I know it does. But it doesn’t. Not here. Right here, right now, all that matters is that you know despite what you tell me you did in the past, I will always think you’re a good man. Always.”

  “I gave orders to kill.” He tries to pull my hands away, but I hold tight.

  “You’re a good man. You have a good heart.”

  He snorts.

  “Listen to her,” Jay says in a panicked voice. “God damn it, listen to her.”

  I’d almost forgotten about him, but I feel Jay close behind me. I can hear him breathing, almost panting.

  “Shit, man, why didn’t you tell me…? Shit.”

  After Jay stops talking, H’s shoulders slide down. It reminds me of how my brother’s shoulders were after my dad died, how the evergreen trees branches look with too much snow. He’s feeling even more defeated.

  “I fucking made this hike,” Jay starts, “this crazy living-in-the-park thing all about me. I—”

  “You had a lot of shit to deal with.” H is looking at Jay, worried. “I—I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “No, you should have.” Jay’s voice is raw, edged with desperation and a tint of anger. “You are a good man. Listen to Dee. You just spent two months trying to make me feel not so crazy. Two fucking months.”

  H shakes his head.

  I reach out and grab Jay’s face with my other hand. Holding both the men, finally getting their attention, I say, “You’re both such wonderful men. Look at me now and know that I only see two very good men. That’s all I see. And maybe what you don’t see is how there’s a world full of not so great men out there. I know. I’ve done the leg work. There’re a lot of people who forget that there’s a huge world outside of themselves, and there are men like you in it who are trying to do the right thing when it’s hard to know what is right.”

  H touches my hand on his face. “The only way I’m going to even consider what you’re saying is if you look at yourself like that, from our point of view.”

  “Yeah,” Jay says, giving me a slight smile. “It’s about time you stop throwing away our compliments.”

  Those words of Jay’s shake me to my core. Not accepting a compliment is like throwing it away. And I wouldn’t throw away anything H or Jay gave me.

  However, I can’t keep touching the men as I think about what they’ve said. The moment is too intense, and if I keep touching them, I know something inside me will break. Maybe it’s something that needs to break. Maybe it’s some ugly part of me that I’m stubbornly hanging on to. But I know, whatever it is, it’s going to hurt when it does.

  I step away.

  H is suddenly closer. “You’re a wonderful woman.”

  Jay nods.

  “You’re kind…” H skims his cold fingers along my cheek, then his thumb gently wipes away the snowflakes on my lashes. I have to close my eyes, and there’s nowhere to run when I do. I have to listen to his sweet words. “You’re hilarious.”

  “Hell,” Jay a
dds. “You got me to laugh in thirty seconds after meeting you when I haven’t in…in forever.”

  “You’re so fucking intelligent,” H continues, “which, incidentally, is a huge turn on.”

  “God, yes,” Jay keeps punctuating what H is saying.

  “And you’re so…you.”

  I open my eyes, gazing at H and Jay.

  H somehow steps even closer. “There’s a world filled with women who aren’t themselves. I know. I’ve done the leg work.”

  I smile at H’s mimicking me.

  “Most people can’t be themselves,” Jay says, reaching out and holding my shoulder. “Most people hide who they are. It takes time and effort to get to know a person. But you—you’re a gift. You’re this vibrant—”

  “Gorgeous,” H smiles.

  “Living out loud woman.” Jay nestles his hand in my hair. “You’re so beautiful to be around that H and I nearly came to blows over you.”

  I shake my head, worried. But again, before I can say how I’d never want them to fight, H says, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We won’t.” He glances at Jay. “At least, I hope we won’t. I mean—Jesus, you’re cold, Dee. Let’s get you inside.”

  20

  Then I’m back inside the hotel room. All of us are and we’re staring at the one bed.

  The guys are heaters, making their snowed-upon clothing dry once inside. And even though I’d worn a coat, I’m shivering. Not just from being cold, though.

  “I got you a couple bowls of the stew,” H says while pointing under a counter where a microwave sits on top of a small refrigerator. There’s also a teeny tiny coffee maker. I love all the small kitchen accessories of hotels. But I hardly pay attention to it as H stares at the bed like he might set it on fire from the gleam in his eyes.

  And Jay’s intense look isn’t much different. He’s the closest to the TV and the Lilliputian kitchen accessories, at the foot of the bed. He’s almost snarling at the cream-colored bedding.

  There’s so much sexual tension in the room, that—surprise, surprise—I’m a tad intimidated. Oh, hell, who am I kidding? I’m overwhelmingly intimidated. We haven’t settled on anything, relationship-wise. Other than both men don’t want only sex from me. And they seem to think highly of me, which is fantastic. But what we’re doing together, staring at the bed, is a mystery to me.