Eyes Turned Skyward

by Rebecca Yarros

  Rocks dug into my back, and I couldn’t breathe. No attempt to pull the air into my lungs helped. My chest heaved, desperate for oxygen.

  “Paisley!” Jagger’s hoarse cry cut through my panic.

  He leaned over me and flicked open my visor. He looked as crazed as I felt, his eyes wild. My mouth opened and closed, my lungs still screaming, and my heart anything but amused, slowing down dramatically.

  “Damn it!” he yelled, unfastening my helmet. “Does your neck hurt? Your head?” he asked quickly.

  I shook my head. If it hurt, I couldn’t feel it. I just wanted to breathe. He nodded, locked the muscles in his jaw, and took my helmet off, keeping my body as in alignment as possible.

  The cool air hit my face, but still nothing. His hands were steady as he ripped the zipper open on my jacket. His hands ran over my rib cage, feeling for anything out of place with gentle hands. “I think…” He looked into my eyes, cupping my cheek. “I think you just had the wind knocked out of you. Try to relax.”

  Relax? I forced myself to fall into the soft tone of his voice. First a small stream of air made its way into my lungs, then larger and larger breaths, until my ribs expanded to full capacity.

  He dropped his forehead to mine and deflated next to me.

  I took in breath after breath, smiling at the sky, and then I started laughing. Not just little giggles, either—oh, no, big, heaping laughs. Jagger pulled back, his mouth agape. Then I snorted and laughed harder for snorting.

  “What the hell is so funny?”

  I moved each of my legs and then my arms. “I’m fine,” I said in between outbursts. “I just sailed off the quad, but I’m fit as a fiddle!” I couldn’t help that I found the irony hilarious. I could survive an ATV accident without a scratch, but my heart would eventually fail.

  God had a sense of humor.

  “Oh my God, Paisley, are you okay?” Josh asked, leaning over.

  I nodded, but couldn’t stop my hysterical giggling.

  “What the fuck were you thinking?” Jagger shouted at his friend, coming to his feet. “You want to pull insane stunts like that, you do it with your girlfriend, and sure as hell not mine!”

  My laughter died.

  “Man, I’m…” Josh looked down at me, the lines of his face tight and his eyebrows close together as he took in a shaky breath. “I’m so very sorry.”

  “What has gotten into you?” Ember shouted.

  Josh closed his eyes and took a deep breath before turning to his girlfriend. “It looked like fun, and we’d already taken the other jumps.”

  I gripped Jagger’s forearm for support when the blood rushed from my head from standing too quickly. “I followed him, it’s not his fault.” My heart pounded, enjoying the return of oxygen, but there was no breathlessness. I wasn’t even tired today. “I’m okay. All ten fingers and toes accounted for.”

  “Well, I’m not!” Jagger yelled at me.

  My gaze snapped to his, my mouth dropping open. “Jagger…”

  “I don’t want to hear it.” He pointed to where my quad had landed, miraculously still on its wheels. “I’m taking you home. Now.”

  I thought twice about growling at him, but sighed instead and headed for the quad. It wasn’t his bossiness that made me, but the fear in his eyes when he’d peeled off my helmet.

  We were on the trail before I could say good-bye to anyone. He hugged the curves but kept our speed moderate, safe. His muscles were tense under my hands, and his head would shake from side to side every minute or so, like he was arguing with himself.

  He made an abrupt turn to the right, taking a lesser-worn trail to where it looked like a dead end. Then he pushed farther into the woods, stopping only when there wasn’t a sound besides us. We sat there in silence for a moment, his chest heaving beneath my hands.

  I unbuckled my helmet and placed it on the rack behind me as I slid off the seat. The fallen leaves beneath my feet didn’t crunch. Southern humidity didn’t really allow anything to crunch, but at least it would have been some kind of noise. “Go ahead.”

  He unsnapped his helmet and pulled it off violently. “Why?”

  “Because you’re fixing to blow up anyway.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  His gaze remained unfixed ahead of him, his hands pushing in on the sides of his helmet like he could burst it in his lap. “That. Was. Stupid.” He ground out each word like it had been torn from his throat.

  “I know.” I settled in for the lecture.

  He swiveled his head, finally looking at me. “Do you?” he asked in a whisper. “Do you know how easily you could have been…” He blanched. “God, Paisley!”

  My feet moved before I could stop myself, and I reached for him, cupping his face with my hands. “I’m okay,” I whispered. “I’m fit as a fiddle.” My smile was forced but there.

  “Fucking luck, that’s all that was.” He shook his head. “You don’t get it. That moment I saw you fall, when you hit the ground? Everything in me just stopped, like my heart couldn’t beat if yours didn’t.”

  I sucked in a breath, tears stinging my eyes. “Don’t say that.”

  “I’ve been on my own for six years, Paisley. I’ve walked away from everyone I’ve ever cared about, basically killed off my own heart, and still none of that prepared me for the instant I thought I lost you. Nothing in my life prepared me for how much I would love you.”

  The words hung between us, sweetening the taste of the air on my tongue, calming the beat of my heart, and igniting a deeper fire than I ever thought possible. “You love me?”

  “You can’t do something like that again—”

  “You love me.” A myriad of emotions crashed through me with the subtlety of a tornado. Elation. Fear. Hope. Devastation. Everything I wanted and everything I was terrified to lose sat in front of me.

  “—because I can’t take it, and if that makes me a—”

  I stopped his words with my mouth, kissing every feeling into him that I couldn’t say. His lips were warm, soft, and open. I took advantage, running my tongue along his teeth, darting in to slide along the stud in his tongue.

  His shock became a groan. His hands went to my bottom, easily lifting me so that I straddled his lap, facing him on the quad. I arched into him, my breasts pressing against his chest, and my fingers threaded through his hair.

  He tilted my head to the side and took control, devouring me one kiss, one nibble at a time, driving me slowly crazy. He gave just enough to keep a steady hum of energy coursing through me, the tingles in my lips turning to a steady pulse between my thighs. I’d push for more, and he’d pull away, maddening me. Finally, he drew my lower lip out with a soft bite. A noise escaped me that sounded suspiciously like a whimper.

  His eyes darkened, and all playfulness evaporated as he took my mouth again, this time holding nothing back. His lips slanted over mine, kissing me deep, thrusting his tongue in a hypnotizing rhythm, and I lost myself in the sensations I only felt with him. His hands moved up my sides, pausing questioningly over my breasts. I pushed them into his waiting hands, and we both moaned.

  “Skin. I need you to touch me,” I murmured against his lips.

  His mouth never left mine as the zipper slid down, revealing my fitted V-neck underneath. The first press of his hands wasn’t enough for either of us. The cool air hit my stomach as he lifted my shirt over my breasts, leaving my jacket on for the chill. Thank heavens for front-clasp bras—one snap and he was finally holding bare skin. Between the temperature and his hands, my nipples hardened. His fingers ghosted across them, inflaming the little nerve endings, and I gasped.

  “Perfect.” He rolled my nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

  “Jagger,” I shamelessly begged.

  “What do you want?”

  The hunger I saw in his eyes sent a delicious shiver down my skin. I’d awoken something in him I hadn’t seen yet, and I wanted it.

  “Paisley, what do you want?” His gaze dropped to my breasts in h
is hands, and I didn’t miss his indrawn breath, or his erection growing where my thighs rested just over his.

  “Your mouth,” I answered, refusing to be embarrassed. The heat that stung my cheeks told me I might have not been successful.

  He groaned, like my words had stroked him. A second later, he cupped my butt, lifting me for access. At the first touch of his lips to my skin, I trembled. He dusted kisses at the tops of my breasts, the sides, and underneath, leaving no inch of skin untouched. I slipped my hands under his jacket, indulging in the play of his muscles under his shirt as I braced myself on his shoulders. “Jagger.” His name was a whispered plea.

  Finally, he sucked one of my nipples into his mouth, his moan sending vibrations through me like lightning. He alternated deep pulls and gentle laves of his tongue, savoring one breast, then the other. I cried out when he gently used his teeth, and his grip tightened, holding me up when my arms buckled from the unexpected pleasure.

  He lowered me slowly, my extra-sensitive skin dragging along his shirt, and kissed me until I was seated again. I couldn’t still the movement of my hips against him, desperate for the friction between my thighs. “We should head back,” he whispered, his tone weak.

  “We should stay a little longer,” I suggested, my fingers dipping under his shirt to explore the lines of abs I’d been drooling over since that first day. Did he have any fat on him? Warm, velvet skin draped over cords of muscle, giving me a new understanding of “washboard.” His eyes closed when I traced the little lines, lifting his shirt the same way he did mine. My mouth went dry, and my tongue ached to taste every inch, follow every tattoo. “I’m never going to get over seeing you like this, getting to actually touch you,” I whispered more to myself than him.

  He pressed one of my hands over his heartbeat. “Anything I am is yours. Please, touch, because there’s no way I’m keeping my hands off you.”

  I kissed him, trapping our hands between us. My hips rolled, grinding over his, and he hissed. His arm banded around my back, pulling me flush against him. Skin on skin set a fire running through my veins, burning a path through me that led directly to my core. The further I slipped into the haze of desire, the less inhibited I became. I pushed him onto his elbows, but he didn’t complain as I climbed over him, tasted the skin of his chest and flicked my tongue across his nipples. His moan reverberated through his chest and sent the headiest wave of power through me.

  His fingers deftly undid the braids in my hair and then tangled in it, clenching as I traced the tattoo that ran across his lower stomach, just above the tantalizing line of his jeans. “Paisley.” His voice was hoarse. How far could I push him until he snapped? Did I want to find out? Yes.

  I ran my fingers along his waistband, the black of his boxers peeking just above. My breath hitched, but it was excitement, not apprehension, that had me biting my lower lip. I flicked the button of his jeans open and pulled the zipper down. He jerked, but I didn’t look up. He was hard, hot, and straining to escape his boxer briefs. My belly clenched, wanting nothing more than to have him inside me, so deep that I branded him. Mine.

  My hand squeezed him gently through the material, and I was rewarded with a very guttural “Fuck,” drawn out the length of his breath. “Maybe now isn’t—”

  I squeezed again, running my thumb along his shaft until the head of his erection slipped free of his boxers. My fingers swirled around his tip once, twice, and then I replaced them with my tongue. “Holy shit!” His grip tightened in my hair, and I met his shocked, incredibly turned-on stare as I sucked just the head into my mouth, tasting a hint of salt as I explored the ridge with my tongue and lips.

  With a growl, he lifted me off him and sat up in one smooth motion. His eyes were wild now with barely controlled lust—the same that had ahold of me.

  “No?” I asked with a coy shake of my head.

  “No,” he barked. His eyes closed. “I mean, yes, God, yes, but not this time.” My disappointment was short-lived as his fingers gripped a hip and the base of my neck, and he pulled me in for a scorching kiss. “I can’t wait to try everything with you,” he whispered in my ear. He licked and sucked his way along my neck. “But right now I want to kiss your skin, memorize the way you smell, the way you feel under my hands.” Yes, please. He popped the top button free on my jeans. My eyes flew open, meeting his. He moved his hand slowly, watching me for the first sign of resistance, the first hint of “no.”

  I didn’t even think it.

  Thank goodness I’d worn a respectable pair of black lace panties, because his hand was in them. My thoughts ceased when his middle finger stroked down across my clit. I called out his name, and my hips bucked in response. He slipped lower, to where I opened for him and let loose a ragged sigh.

  “Fuck, you’re wet.”

  I whimpered and rocked toward him, hoping he’d continue. I’d never felt this urgency before, this burning need.

  “Have you touched yourself before, Paisley?”

  I waited a few seconds and nodded, my cheek scraping the stubble on his jaw. We’d agreed, no lies. That didn’t mean I wanted to talk about it, though. As if in reward, his fingers stroked me, putting firm pressure on that sweet little bundle of nerves, and I cried out, the sound carrying through the woods.

  “Is that the only way you’ve ever gotten off?”

  I hesitated, and then nodded.

  “What I want,” he whispered against my lips, “is to feel you come around my fingers. I want to know how tight you are when you get there, so I can fantasize about how you’ll feel when I finally get to be inside you.”

  His words were the dirtiest thing I’d ever heard, and mercy, I liked it. “Please,” I whispered.

  He took control of my mouth as he stroked through my folds, keeping a rhythm in both that had me keening. I thrust my hips against his hand, shamelessly seeking more contact. One of his hands lifted me under my butt, pulling my thighs on top of his. Then he delved deeper, the angle allowing him to insert a finger inside me.

  I gasped, and he swallowed the sound. He dragged that finger along my inner walls, listening for my reaction, waiting for it to hitch. When it did, he withdrew it, only to thrust two inside. “Jagger!”

  He took each of my cries and then pressed the heel of his hand against my clit while he worked me with his fingers, curling them to hit a spot that had me moaning with each thrust, unable to keep quiet.

  Every sensation in my body concentrated where his fingers were, locking my muscles, building and intensifying until I wanted to scream from the sweet tension. His tongue, his lips, his fingers…so many sensations rolled into one general feeling of sheer bliss.

  “Let me feel you come, Paisley,” he begged, and I was powerless against him. He thrust his fingers inside me once more, meeting me as I rocked my hips into him, and when he rubbed the heel of his hand against me with the perfect pressure and whispered, “I love you,” I shattered, clenching around his fingers.

  I screamed his name, my hips shamelessly bucking as my world narrowed to Jagger. He kissed my breath from me, like he could inhale my orgasm, and stroked the aftershocks from my body with deft, skilled fingers. I tightened around him when another wave hit, and he groaned.

  “Amazing,” he said, his eyes raking over me. He withdrew his fingers and snapped my jeans, trembling slightly. “You’re so beautiful.”

  I flushed at his praise and rolled my thumb over his exposed erection. He groaned and took hold of my wrist, pulling me away. “You sure?” I asked him. “I don’t want to leave you hurting.”

  His grin was enough to make me think about unbuttoning my jeans. “God, Paisley. You can’t…I’m not going to be able to control myself. I’ll be buried deep inside you faster than you can blink, and I know you’re not ready for that. Plus, selfishly, I’d like to not be on an ATV our first time.”

  I nearly shook from his words, for the first time thinking to check my heart monitor. My pulse was elevated, just outside desired parameters, but I felt gr
eat. What would sex with Jagger do to it? Already I’d felt more in these few moments than I ever had before.

  We righted our clothes, and he kissed me like a starving man just before I put my helmet on. “Let’s go home,” I said, smiling at him.

  “Yeah, let’s,” he agreed.

  I climbed behind him, trying not to jump when the vibrations from the four-wheeler rubbed my overly sensitized flesh. Jagger turned us around, and we headed toward the path.

  I knew I was only supposed to check each block off the list once, but mercy, number fourteen deserved further exploration.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Jagger

  Even now, I bet you’re trying to think of a way to punish me, but the truth is, I’ve lived in hell for so long that there’s nothing worse you could do.

  The seconds ticking by on the wall clock were the only sound in Major Davidson’s office the next day as Carter and I both stood at attention, facing his empty desk. Block leave was over; it was time for the hammer to drop.

  “Bateman,” Carter started, his tone remorseful.

  “Don’t,” I snapped.

  The door opened, and Major Davidson walked in, setting his coffee down. “Lieutenants.”

  “Sir,” we responded in time.

  I stared at the plaque just above his head until he said, “At ease.” We both visibly relaxed. “Well, gentlemen, I don’t think we really need to rehash the events from New Year’s Eve, since I saw the whole thing.”

  Here comes the axe.

  “What do you have to say for yourself, Bateman?”

  “No excuse, sir.”

  Carter’s head snapped in my direction, but I still ignored him. I’d take what was coming. I deserved it.

  “Carter?” Davidson asked, his tone tight.

  “No excuse, sir.”

  Davidson pinched the bridge of his nose and mumbled something that sounded like, “It’s too early for this shit.” He took a deep breath, his gaze flickering between us. “Well, what the hell were you thinking?” We glanced at each other, then back to Davidson. “Somebody answer.”