by Avery Laval
She couldn’t either. “The bed,” she gasped, and he turned the way she was gesturing.
“Yes.” He picked her up and carried her to it.
Now slow was forgotten. Now there was just pulling off of clothes and frantic touching and finally, finally, there she was beneath him, naked but for a pair of lacy underwear.
“A matching set,” he groaned. “Did you plan this moment all along?”
Her lips curled in tandem with his fingers around the waist of her panties. “I didn't not plan it, I will admit.”
He thought of her, this morning, choosing lace, thinking, maybe, maybe, and he moaned again.
“You made me wait so long,” he said as he slowly stripped her naked and took her all in.
“Stop waiting,” she said, and he did.
“This is nice,” Natalie said for the second time in just over an hour.
She could have been referring to the hotel room again, opulent and glamorous, over-the-top in its appointments. Or to the bed, which was made up in Frette sheets and a silk-and-down comforter that had spent exactly thirty seconds on that bed before being unceremoniously dispensed of on the floor somewhere. Or to the view of the mountains lit up by a full moon, through the gossamer white curtains over the picture windows.
She was not referring to any of those things. She was referring to Charlie's body. There it was, splayed out next to her in bed, as she propped herself up and took him in. He had been dozing lightly, and then she didn't want him dozing anymore, and had dragged her fingers down his body, feeling the planes and bumps of solid athlete under them, and the deep breathing of a man spent by sex.
But was he really spent? She wasn't. She pressed her lips to the spot between ribs and abdominal muscles. It was firm with musculature, and hot. It made her want more. She slid her lips to his middle, to his navel, hoping he wouldn't mind her taking a taste while he rested, and then at once knowing he wouldn't. And then because she knew where her own heat was pooling, rising, she visited the corresponding area on his body, first with her lips at the top of one thigh, then the other, and finally with a soft gentle caress of her hand over his shaft.
He wasn't sleeping anymore, but bunching one hand in her hair. He said raspy, deep voice, “Do that again.”
She did, this time with more pressure. His cock responded in time with her hand, followed it upwards and grew into something spectacular. “I want you in my mouth,” she said, and then without waiting for permission, she took him. His moan sounded like her name, but it was hard to tell.
She licked around the top of his head, took him deeply, then withdrew. He moved his hands from her hair and propped himself up on his elbows, his abdominals rippling just at eye level, and she cast her eyes upward and found him looking down at her, eyes heavy, pleasure written all over his face, and for the first time in her life she wanted nothing more than to keep going, to let the desire in her own body curl and twist and mount while she indulged his. She did not feel charitable, or sacrificing, or used. She felt powerful. And she wielded that power fiercely, sliding up and down his cock with her lips slowly, slowly, hearing his heavy breaths and knowing he was in heaven. Then her tongue took over, licked the long, long inches of his shaft, and her hands cupped him, and his breathing became moans and begging.
She could tell he was close, so close. “Natalie,” he said, clear as a bell. “Look at me.”
When she did, she found his gaze so intense she had to put her hands on his legs to brace herself.
He reached down, saying, “Take my hands.”
She held his hands as she took one, then two, then three more long hard pulls of his length.
He squeezed her hands and let go, and she knew he was on the verge of coming, heard him moan and brace himself.
“Baby, stop,” he said, sounding as though he never wanted her to stop. He hauled her up his body, and his fingers found the part of her that was throbbing and toyed with her. He played almost leisurely with her clit, though she did not feel leisurely. She wanted him inside her. Now. She tried to move her hips out of his reach and found herself thrown onto her back, straddled, looking up at that perfect chest and that incredible face that was locked with hers in concentration, and then finally, thank you, universe, felt the tip of his cock at her entrance and nearly lost her mind.
She thrust down, he thrust up, her body was filled with him and she cried out—what? His name? God's? She had no idea. She stopped being a person and became exposed nerves and heat and want and stayed that way as he pulled himself away.
She reached for his ass to force him back into her again. This, the delicious theft of his thickness and then its recovery, this was all that she was for she didn't know how long. Her desire was suddenly not desire in general but an orgasm, starting at the back of her eyes and moving down her spine and then coming up from her feet at the same time.
She screamed it out, “I'm coming,” and wrapped her legs around him, and he somehow drew them both back, and then with one deep shift inside her they both were coming, his shoulders collapsing into her grasp and her mouth finding the top of a bicep and her body shuddering around his cock while his cock throbbed inside her.
That incredible sensation possessed her for some time, until she regained reason and understood that it was he who was possessing her. He had claimed her so thoroughly with his every touch that even when she had been the one in control, she had been his. He slid himself out of her, now that they had both been still for quite a while, and sank to her side, and then pulled her in and kissed her on her mouth, and her eyes, and her forehead.
“You,” he said. And when she looked up at him, he cupped her face in one hand. “You.”
And she nodded. “Yes.” And he pressed his lips to hers and she knew at once that she had never been more vulnerable in her life. Soon, she would return to the U.S., and begin a life anew, because of this man. A man who would stay behind, for his own private reasons. Whom she could not bring into her new life. A man she would not easily forget. Maybe not ever.
Later, Charlie climbed from the bed and retrieved the comforter and covered them with it, tucking it carefully around her shoulders and chin. She felt the care in his touch.
He said, “I want—I need—I need you to know something. I've wanted to tell you almost from the moment you asked me why I wouldn’t sign, that first night in the bar. I didn’t know why, at first. I know why now.”
She was still thinking about his body, his lips, and everything else. “Tell me what?” she asked. “Oh. Why you quit.” She propped herself up next to him so she could see his face.
“Yes. The why. Hang on.” He slipped out of bed, and she missed him right away. She reminded herself that tomorrow he would be a continent away. He fished around in the minibar and came back with the most appetizing thing Natalie had ever seen in her life—a glass bowl with gorgeous red strawberries and two bottles of Perrier sparkling water. “I'm hungry.”
“Me, too,” she said. “But more than that, I'm listening.”
He set down the bowl and cocked his head. “Do all the athletes do this to you? Fall for you and then spill their guts?”
Natalie raised her eyebrow. If he couldn’t tell that he was special to her, that she had never before considered sleeping with a client—ever—then she was about to be very disappointed in him.
“Sorry,” he said, looking sheepish. He rejoined her in bed with the berries between them. “I didn’t think anyone would be able to get through to me up here. But you did. That first night, with your short hair and no-nonsense attitude—”
“I used to have longer hair. My ponytail blew in front of a camera lens once and screwed up a shot, so I cut it short. This is way more practical for sports photography.”
“That right there. You’re no-nonsense and adorable at the same time. That’s why I—why I respect you.”
She could have sworn he’d been about to say something other than respect, something completely inappropriate and weird. Something a l
ot like love.
She grinned at him. “I respect you too.” She rubbed his stubble with her knuckles. “Way more than I thought I would.”
He caught her hand in his. “You know how much I loved skiing. Jumping especially, but anything on skis.”
“Where did that love go?”
He swallowed. “To Afghanistan.”
She looked up into his eyes. “So this is about your brother.”
Charlie nodded, stalling with a juicy red berry, and then pressed on. “Our whole childhood was about my dad. About going where he needed to be and staying out of his way. Every penny we had and every minute he had went to the sport. There was nothing left for us. And then that day, he takes us to our first jump, and like lightning, I knew exactly why. It was love. I was seven years old, but it was love.”
“But Rich?”
“He was ok with it, but it wasn't the same. He was powerfully strong but had no gift for the jumps. My parents—I hate to say it, but they lost interest when they saw him jump. After my dad retired, all that energy went to me. Rich became part of the support team. At the age of seven.”
“Whoa.”
“Right? It was all, Rich, be quiet, it's after your brother's curfew. Rich, don't drink that protein smoothie—it's for Charlie. Rich, pick up your toys, we don't need Charlie tripping and spraining an ankle.”
“Jeez. And when he was older?”
“Well, of course there was no college fund for him. Everything we had went into my training. Living in the mountains wasn't cheap. Camps, trainers, equipment. He went right to work as soon as he finished high school and lived at home. Helped with the bills. Gave everything he had to the team. Team Charlie.”
“Did he say anything to you?”
“No, but he was just a kid. He shouldn't have had to.”
“You were a kid too.”
“And then, one day, I wasn't. Then I was the same as my dad. Doing the same thing to my own brother that Dad had done to us. Forgetting anything or anyone existed but the hill and the trophies.”
Natalie shook her head. “You were raised to be that way. That's so much pressure.”
Charlie shook his head. “Rich is my twin brother. He got tired of playing second fiddle. I knew, during the Olympic trials, things were changing for him. He was acting out. Drinking, women, cars. Looking for a way to get noticed. And then he found it.”
“So that's why he enlisted.”
“He enlisted to pay for college and serve his country and for all of the right reasons. So he says. But yeah, mostly, I believe it was to make my dad notice him. To make him proud. To try to come out of his self-absorbed brother's shadow.”
“Come on, Charlie. It's not your fault he joined up. Lots of men and women do it, go to scary places, serve our country well every day.”
“But not Rich. Not my twin brother. He's not a soldier.”
“He's thirty. He's an adult. He can be whatever he wants.”
“I want him home. Safe. Him getting killed in war isn't what anyone wants.”
“And you think staying out of the limelight is going to somehow keep him safe?”
“I know it will. He told me himself. He said if I was destined to become a hero, he would do whatever it took to be a hero, too. He told me he wouldn't come back until he could stand in the same room as me with his head held high.”
Natalie blinked at Charlie. “You have to see that that's not fair. He can't do that to you—not if he loves you.”
“He loves me, but he hates me too, you know? Because of everything. And now my mother, she hates me too.”
“Then she's a fool,” Natalie said quietly.
“For my entire life I did what I thought would make my dad proud. But I forgot about everything and everyone else. The day I won gold, my mom wasn't crying tears of joy. She was crying over Rich.”
Natalie sighed. “You're so misguided. You know that, right? Your heart is right, but your brain is all wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your heart says it's time to do right by your brother and to try to bring your family back together. Of course. But your brain thinks punishing yourself is the way to do that. That doesn't make sense. You're sitting here holed up in the mountains not talking to a soul and taking away everything you love from yourself voluntarily, but did you call your brother and tell him you're grateful for everything he sacrificed for you? Did you tell your mother that you are not your father and don't mean to act that way anymore? Did you tell Rich that his actions and his choices are his own, but that they affect all of you deeply?”
Charlie was silent. “Quitting was a hell of a lot easier than any of that,” he said after a long time. “We're guys after all. Men of action.”
“Right now you're a man of inaction. Well, except in this room. In this room I like your actions very, very much.”
“And I like your reactions,” he said with a smile and started to dip down for a kiss. “Wait, stop distracting me with your sexy talk. You just said something profound. Can you repeat it, but this time without the blanket?”
Natalie laughed. “No. It's time for you to start being a little more profound yourself. Put what you're feeling into words for your family, then get back to doing what you love. Let them make their own decisions, and learn how to support them when they do. Let them support you again in turn.”
Charlie raised his eyebrows. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It won't be. But it's better than the alternative.”
He was quiet for a long time. “Do you still have that contract?”
Natalie looked at him hard. “No, Charlie. No. I can't let you do that now.”
“It's nothing to do with what we did and what I want very much to do with you several more times before I let you go home. It's about what you've done for me since you got here. How you've helped. I want to help you now.”
“But you were right. I'm not meant for this job. I want something else.”
“But you want it on your own terms, right? Not because some ski bum forced you to the next step before you felt ready?”
Natalie cracked a huge smile. “To be perfectly honest, I will know when I am ready, and I'm not ready. You know why?”
“Why?”
“Because Brad represents a jockey in the Derby this year, and he offered to bring me along. It's the biggest day of a sports photographer's year and I'm going to be in the front row. I've been looking forward to it for months.”
Charlie laughed. “You're amazing. You're strong everywhere I'm weak.”
“You're not very weak,” she said.
“I have this one weakness. For a woman who works for my annoying agent.”
“She sounds like trouble,” Natalie said just before she took a bite out of a particularly juicy strawberry.
“Show me exactly how much trouble,” he said back at her, laughing.
And soon the comforter was back on the floor.
6
One Month Later
“I don't know how you did it,” Brad Bradley was barking through her laptop on videoconference. “But this kid is better after his so-called retirement than he was before. “The coffee people are hearing the buzz from the U.S. Olympic Committee and they want to renew his option before someone else gets a shot. Far be it from me to tell them he said no to all the other contenders already.”
Natalie laughed from her hotel room in Aspen. “Do you think the news needs to be delivered personally?” she asked with just a hint of feigned resistance. “I mean, the guy answers his phone again now, doesn't he?”
“Or his mom does. She's like his manager these days. I thought they'd had some kind of falling out, but apparently she's well on board now.”
“Glad to hear it,” said Natalie. A smile played across her face.
“Anyway, I think I can just deal with him directly, since the money's so good. You concentrate on that snowboarder you're scouting. She might be my first gold medal for slopestyle, you know.”
“You okay over there? The hotel's not too bad a dump, is it?”
Natalie pressed her face into submission. “I think it's got a little pest problem,” she said, deadpan. “But I know I'm paying the price for expensing that room in Sestriere after getting trapped there by that blizzard. Whoever heard of a blizzard that late in the season, I want to know?”
Brad shrugged. “Out of your control, though next time try to find a joint with a few less stars, you hear?”
“Loud and clear. Oh! I better go. I’ve got something, um, pressing.”
“See you Monday. Take good care of my boarder, will you?”
“I will,” she said and disconnected as quickly as humanly possible.
“Who are you calling a little pest?” Charlie said, from beneath the covers where he'd been tormenting her for the entire call.
Natalie's face burst into a smile. “You are so inappropriate!” she told him.
“What can I do? I've only got you for the weekend.”
“And every other weekend when you fly to Vegas to visit on the sly,” she said with a smile. “But yeah, it's still not enough.”
“I wish you'd just quit that job and move in with me. So I could chain you to my bed and have you whenever I want.”
“Keep dreaming,” she told him, though his plan didn't sound awful. Still, she was getting ready, really ready, to take the big leap into her art for good. But the extra time working for the agency had bought her so many more hours of class, so many more photo ops for her portfolio, so many business trips to mountains that Charlie just happened to be training at to “recruit.”
“I'll keep dreaming, as long as you do too.”
