His hands find my loose hair, his fingers caressing as they press into my scalp. I hold on to his sweatshirt, feeling the strength behind his grasp as he holds me still. Close.
Opening my mouth to him, I let him explore, his tongue tangling with mine, swiping, thrusting, but it’s never too much, never too forceful. He makes slow, calculated movements, as if he’s trying to figure out each and every way he can make me melt faster and faster in his grasp.
And when he pulls away, his eyes partly open, eyelashes fluttering, he smiles. A full cheek-to-cheek, heart-stopping smile. Dimples flash dangerously at me, his eyes heady but also lit up, as if I just breathed life into him for the very first time.
Pressing his forehead against mine, he grips my cheeks and places another kiss on my lips, this one short and fast, but just as important as the first, because it’s unscripted, spur of the moment, like he needed one more taste.
“Want to go for a walk?” he whispers when he pulls away.
“I would love that.”
Linking his fingers with mine, our palms touching, our souls connecting, he walks me through the garden, looking forward but keeping me close, never letting me drift too far away.
I’ve been to the Garden of the Gods too many times to count, once using it as my training paradise for a mountain trail half-marathon, running through the uneven trails, skipping over rocks and sidestepping horse droppings. But this is the first time I’ve been here with a man, allowing him to guide me up the dirt-covered and rail-tied steps. I know exactly where he’s taking me, because it’s a place I’ve been many times to experience the views. It’s one of my favorite places in the park.
We round the corner, working our way farther and farther up until we hit the side of the rock that is level enough you can climb up the face and sit at the top. During summer, this rock is crowded, and it’s almost impossible to find peace when there are tourists swarming the overlook.
Not today.
Today, we have the rock to ourselves.
Colby gets to the top first and holds out his hands to help me up the last couple steps before taking a seat, facing west. The snow-covered mountain caps of Pikes Peak are as bright as ever, the sun barely hiding behind it.
Scooting closer, Colby takes my hand in his, our fingers tangling together. He brings our connection to his mouth, placing a gentle kiss on the back of my knuckles, the gesture sweet and innocent, like the letters we’ve shared for the past few weeks.
“I love it up here,” he says, breaking the silence between us. “Whenever I’ve felt stressed or out of sorts, I’ve come to this spot to soak in the wind, the smells, the dust of the red rock, the peaceful mountain. It’s . . . reliable. It’s my place of solace.”
I shake my head, chuckling. “I wonder if we’ve ever been up here at the same time together, because this is my rock, my outlook, my place to think. I have spent so many hours sitting right here, wondering what life is going to throw at me next.”
“I don’t think we were ever up here together,” he says with confidence.
“Why?”
“Because”—he turns toward me—“I would have noticed you.” A crimson wave stains my cheeks as I look at the ground and kick a little pebble down the slope of the rock.
“What made you change your mind?” I ask, needing to see if what I’m feeling isn’t just a one-sided yearning.
“What made me change my mind about you?”
I nod.
Scratching the side of his jaw and staring at Pikes Peak, he says, “It was never about changing my mind about you. It was about giving in to something I couldn’t control anymore. Despite everything in me, no matter how hard I tried, you were everywhere. I couldn’t shake you out of my head. It was similar to how my decision to become a fighter pilot felt all over again. All I could think about; all I could dream about. I knew there had to be a reason.”
“And what’s the reason?” I ask, shyly, my voice barely audible above the light breeze.
He shrugs. “Hell if I know at this point. What I do know is that after those few weeks apart, I was aching for more of your letters. I couldn’t deny it anymore. Couldn’t deny you. I needed to feel your mouth on mine to see if it was everything I thought it would be.” Good Lord, this man is so beautiful. He was aching for my letters? For me.
“Was it?” I tilt my head to the side, catching his smirk as he squeezes my hand.
“So much fucking more.”
I nudge his shoulder. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”
He raises his brows at me, a disbelieving look in his eyes. “Not so bad? You have to give a guy more credit than that.”
I shake my head. “Where’s the fun in that?”
He chuckles. “So . . . do you spray all the letters you send with perfume?”
“No, that’s only special for you. Was it a nice touch?”
“A fucking fantastic touch,” he says. “And the lips on the bottom.” A small groan pops out of him. “I’ve had fantasies about that lipstick, and seeing it on the paper didn’t help.”
Oh God. I had fantasies when I kissed the letters, wishing I was kissing him all over his chiseled body. Over and over again.
I clear my throat and ask, “What kind of fantasies?”
“Not the kind you talk about in a sacred spot.”
“Ohhh, so very dirty fantasies.”
He stares out toward Pikes Peak. “You could say that.”
Turning completely toward him, I play with his Air Force sweatshirt, the Under Armour fabric smooth as silk, loving how our conversation feels so real. And a little dirty. Very unlike the one-sided ones we had before. This is the real Colby. And I’m completely enamored.
I turn his head toward mine, allowing myself to get lost in his mysterious eyes that are hooded by his thick, sharp eyebrows. “Tell me one fantasy,” I whisper.
His gaze falls to my lips and then moves back to my eyes. His tongue peeks out, wetting his lips as he leans forward, capturing my cheek in his large hand. Talking evenly, he says, “One fantasy?” He shakes his head. “Nah, those are for me only. Come up with your own and see if we can meet in the middle.” Softly, his lips take mine, nipping and gliding but never pressing too hard, driving me crazy.
I moan in frustration, causing him to chuckle once again, and I doubt that sound will ever grow old to me. I wish he did it more often, because it’s beautiful, low and gritty. It rumbles over me like water down a rocky creek bed.
He pulls me in and holds me close to his chest, and we stare at the mountain range, a comfortable silence falling between us. The distant sound of visitors to the park sound off along with a few birds floating into their hollowed-out perches on the side of the gigantic rocks. It’s peaceful. Serene.
Breaking the silence, he clears his throat and says, “I got into flight school.”
Head whipping up, a huge smile across my face, I pull him into a hug, practically tackling him on the rock. He laughs and holds me in place as I squeeze him tightly. “Oh my God, Colby, that is so amazing. Congratulations. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me that right away.”
“Kind of still in shock.” When I pull away, he rubs the top of his head, his fingers sifting through his short brown strands. “I’ve been working so hard for this. Everything I’ve done leading up to this point has been to meet this one goal.” He takes a deep breath. “And now, there’s a shift in my focus. Now it’s all about graduating and proving to the instructors at flight school that I was made to fly a fighter.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “This is so awesome, Colby. You are incredible.”
The air between us moves into something more sullen as he drops his head. And the minute he opens his mouth, I know why. “I’ll be sent away after graduation for flight school.”
Oh.
“To Peterson?” For some reason, I thought maybe Peterson Air Force Base, which is here in Colorado Springs, would be where he trained. That was probably a very naïve assumption, but then again,
I know nothing about the Air Force.
He shrugs his shoulders. “Could be anywhere, it all depends on where they want to send me.”
“How long is flight school?”
“A year,” he says softly.
A year. That seems like so long.
When I met Colby, I never considered what life would be like after graduation for him. I knew something inside me was pulling me toward him, that there was a greater cosmic force pulling us together.
“Can you see why I was hesitant now? Why I’ve tried to reject this undeniable pull I have toward you? In a few months, my life will be out of my hands and at the mercy of the United States Air Force. I like you, Rory, but I want to be honest with you. I want you to know all the facts.”
Sadly, I say, “I can appreciate that.”
He sighs and wraps his arm around my shoulders. “Don’t worry, you don’t need to say anything. I get it. I really do.” He kisses the side of my head, his lips lingering, brushing against my cheek for a brief moment before pulling away.
He could possibly be gone for at least a year. And then who knows where he might be stationed, what he might be flying, if he will be deployed . . . or not? There are so many uncertainties when it comes to Colby. How did I not see that? I pushed myself into his life, fervent in my need to know who he was beneath the reticent, solitary façade. He warned me. Urged me to leave him alone, but I kept reaching. And now? Now I’ve found an incredible, intense, thoughtful, and gorgeous man, but he’s not really able to be mine. Even if he truly wanted me. And that’s terrifying.
And as much as I hate to admit it, I’m not sure it’s something I’m ready for. Because in some ways, it would be like New York all over again. Putting my life on hold, my choices taking a backseat . . . indefinitely. For Bryan it wasn’t really even a choice. But with Colby? He’s giving me a choice, and I’m not sure I have the strength for what choosing him would mean. We spend the next half hour sitting next to each other, huddled close, an understanding of what’s going to happen floating over our heads like a dark cloud ready to strike.
This isn’t going to work. We can’t work.
Tears form in my eyes and I snuggle even closer to him, his arm wrapped around me holding me in place. I allow the tears. I let them fall—staining my pants with sorrow—but stay silent. Once the sun truly sets, we carefully make our way back down the stairs and to the parking lot, our hands never unlocking, but our voices silent. I feel like I’m letting part of my heart die.
When we reach my car, Colby turns me and presses me against the driver’s side door. He grips my cheek and rubs away one of my wayward tears, his eyes softening, his grip on me tightening.
“Will you still write me?” He knows where this is going, and I feel so awful, as if I've teased him with something he could have and then took it away.
I bite my bottom lip and nod my head. “I will always write you, Colby.”
“Even when you find a man who can give you what you need?”
I nod, unable to find my voice, my throat so tight.
“Thank you.”
Searching my eyes, he looks between them right before he leans forward and takes my mouth in his again, this time more urgent. He presses my hips against the car, stealing my breath, his tongue locking with mine.
Moving in closer, our bodies become flush. He finds my legs, lifts me up, and pins me against the car. I wrap my legs around his waist—our mouths are now evenly matched—and I let go. For a brief second, I forget about the ball of regret and sorrow spinning in on itself inside my stomach. I ignore the death of something that’s consuming me. I forget about the anguish waiting for me at the end of this kiss.
Instead, I get lost. My mind focuses on him: on the way he hums against me, the press of his hardening cock against my pulsing center, the way his hands are so strong as they slide over my skin, the way he feels so damn perfect controlling my mouth, taking charge and leading the way with one of the most passionate kisses I’ve ever experienced.
When his mouth slows down, he presses his forehead against mine one last time before letting out a heavy breath and stepping away, lowering me carefully. Gripping both of my hands, he locks his eyes with mine, the weight of the world flashing through them. Guilt and sorrow eat me up, because his face is so sad, so defeated.
He squeezes my hands. “Take care, Rory. And if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” Leaning forward he places one more soft kiss against my lips before backing up. My hand falls to my lips, the imprint of his mouth burning me.
“Colby,” I say on a gasp, stopping him in his pursuit to get into his truck. “I . . . I‘m sorry.”
He doesn’t turn to look at me when he says, “I know, Rory. But you have no reason to be sorry.”
“I pushed you. I pushed for this.”
Facing me now, he rubs his hand over the back of his neck and then looks at me. The look in his eyes—the anguish—guts me. “And because you pushed, I was able to experience one of the best nights of my life, with my arm wrapped around you, your heavenly scent calming my anxious nerves. It might not be forever, but in that moment, it felt like forever. Thank you for that.” Bowing his head, he turns away as a sob rips from my lips.
It felt like forever . . .
It’s never felt more like forever than when he said that.
Chapter Sixteen
COLBY
“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” I ask Stryder who is lounging on my bed, looking like pure hell.
“Positive. It’s your time with your grandpa, and I don’t want to intrude on that.”
“It will get you out of the house.”
Stryder needs to get out. Ever since we stepped foot in the house, Mr. Sheppard has been a tyrant, a real fucking prick, constantly berating Stryder for not making flight school. Letting him know in a not-so-subtle way that he’s let down the family and caused him great embarrassment.
What Mr. Sheppard is failing to see through his unmerited rage is that even though Stryder is trying to act like it doesn’t matter to him, he’s a mess. I can see the anguish in his eyes whenever he looks at me. I can see the disappointment, the utter vulnerability of being the only one out of our group of friends who didn’t make it in.
Fuck, I still can’t believe it. He has good grades and was part of the Wings of Blue. I thought he was at the top of the class, but somehow, he didn’t get in. A part of me wonders if it’s political. Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard doesn’t have the best reputation in the USAF, especially after the fucked-up fooling around he did with multiple officers’ wives while their husbands were deployed. He’s a real class act. I could understand a vendetta against Lt. Colonel Sheppard, but it’s as if Stryder got caught in the middle and is now taking the brunt of it all. Not that his father could see that.
Still, I feel for him. It just about kills me to see my best friend not make it, and what hurts me even more is I can feel him pulling away.
Normally, going with me to visit my grandpa is one of Stryder’s favorite things to do when we’re on break. Not today.
“What are you going to do all day?”
He shrugs. “Joey invited me over to hang out with her and Hardie. Figured I’d probably go over there.”
“Is your dad going to let you?”
“Fuck him, man.” Stryder grinds his jaw. I’m thinking that maybe he has an idea as to why he wasn’t accepted into flight school.
Sighing, I put my wallet in my back pocket and grab my phone from the nightstand. “You can still apply later if you—”
“Don’t want to talk about it, Colby.” I can understand why he’s terse, shutting me down. If I were in his position . . . fuck, if that were me, I’d have lost it by now. My dream ending before it started. “What happened with Rory?”
God, I am not ready to talk about that. I still feel hollow.
I snag my keys from the dresser and put on my jacket. “Not going to work out, not with everything up in the air for me.”
/> “But you want it to,” he says more as a statement, reading me like an open book.
“Not at first, but after the letters, after seeing her again . . . Fuck if I’m not begging she’ll give us a shot.”
“How did you leave it last night?”
“Not in a position where I see a future for us.” Heading toward the door, I say, “You sure you don’t want to come?”
“Positive. Say hi to Gramps for me.”
“Will do.”
* * *
“There he is,” Gramps says, holding his arm out to me. I bend down to his wheelchair and give him a good, strong hug.
“Hey Gramps, how are you feeling today?”
Wrapped up in sweaters and blankets, he seems to have some color in his cheeks, unlike the days when I’ve come to visit him and he’s looked pale and almost sickly. Not today; he looks fresh and alert.
The nursing home he lives in takes great care of him, keeps him as active and as sharp as possible. They provide great opportunities for him to interact with not only seniors in the community, but there are tons of volunteers who come in to spend time with the residents.
With a shaky hand, he pats the seat next to him. Some dark spots cover the light skin on the back of his hand, highlighting prevalent blue veins. “I’m doing well, doing well.”
I set down the pizza box I picked up at the restaurant down the street, the pizza Gramps says is the best he’s ever had—it’s sub-par at best—and take a seat.
Clasping his hand over mine, Gramps looks me in the eyes and says, “I’m so proud of you, Colby.” His voice chokes up, and fuck if I don’t join him, a knot forming in my throat. “You set your mind to something and you accomplished it. Through all your adversities, you became the man I always dreamt you would.”
He grabs me by the back of the neck and pulls me into a hug. I follow his lead, wrapping my arms around him. Eyes shut, taking in the familiar scent I’ve grown to know and love. Where would I be without this man? The only true shortcoming of flight school is moving away from him. And now Stryder . . . I won’t even consider the loss of beautiful Rory. She was never really mine anyway. We hold each other for probably longer than necessary but when he pulls away and taps my cheek, I see pride in his eyes. “Now we just have to make sure you get selected for fighters.”
The Duets Page 10
