Until We Fly (The Beautifully Broken)

by Courtney Cole

  I need to know, even if it’s just an illusion, what it’s like to be his.

  To be safe.

  To be good.

  Please.

  Brand stares at me, stunned.

  I’m stunned too.

  I did it.

  I did it.

  I’m fucking brave.

  I watch his lips slowly part as he breathes out in a rush.

  I watch his tongue dart out and lick his lower lip.

  I feel the heat from his hand as he slightly moves it.

  Then I watch the word form on his mouth…right before he says it.

  “No.”

  Chapter Seven

  Brand

  Nora stares at me, stunned. Her blue eyes are wide and clear, and I see hurt in them. Hurt that I put there without meaning to.

  “No?” she repeats shakily, confused. She wasn’t expecting that answer. I wasn’t expecting to say it, to be honest. If I were smart, I’d take her up on her offer and have a summer-long sex session.

  But as I look at her now, she seems more vulnerable and sad than confident and commanding as she’d want the world to think. A part of me knows that strings-free sex is the last thing she needs.

  “No,” I answer again. “Jesus, Nora. You’re worth more than that.”

  She flushes bright red and yanks her hand away as if my skin were on fire. “You don’t know me,” she snaps as she gathers the sponge bath supplies. “You don’t know what I’m worth, or what I want, Brand. Get over yourself.”

  She grabs my towel off the floor and tosses it back to me. I grasp her elbow, holding her still as I sit up.

  “Nora, I didn’t mean to insult you. You’re a beautiful, sexy woman. I don’t know why you feel like meaningless sex with me this summer would be smart, but I get the feeling that it’s the last thing you need. You’re worth more than a hollow fuck.”

  She flinches away at my words, but that’s something about me. I’m always honest.

  “It wouldn’t be meaningless,” she murmurs, looking into my face. “I’ve wanted you for years. Being with you now would be like fulfilling my oldest fantasy before I have to immerse myself in my father’s business. What’s wrong with that? Don’t I deserve to do something that I want to do before I have to hand my life to my father?”

  I’m the one recoiling now as I stare at her in shock. I’m her fantasy? What kind of nonsense is this? If the situation weren’t so tense, I’d laugh.

  “I’m not exactly fantasy material,” I tell her instead, fighting to keep from smiling. “I’m just the son of a mechanic who joined the Army and got out of this one-horse town. Not really the stuff of fairy tales, Nora. And besides, you aren’t handing your life to your father. You’re going to work for him. Your life will still be your own.”

  She shakes her head. “You don’t know anything about me, Brand. Or my life.”

  With that, she walks out, leaving me alone in the room with only a towel covering my dick.

  I feel like I’ve been steam-rolled.

  What the actual fuck was that?

  I roll off the bed, put my clothes back on, and hobble out to follow Nora, but when I reach the hall, I hear water running. She’s in the shower….where she’s wet and naked.

  I need a beer.

  Fuck not being able to drink a beer and take a pain pill at the same time.

  It takes five minutes to get to the kitchen, but when I do, I take the pill with a swig of beer, raising the bottle in Nora’s direction.

  Cheers.

  I gulp down the rest of the icy liquid, letting it trickle down my throat and chill it’s way into my belly.

  As I’m internally patting myself on the back because I’ve gotten one over on Nurse Nora, her phone buzzes on the kitchen counter. I lean over and look out of idle curiosity.

  I suck my breath in at what I see.

  Four new texts from someone named William.

  Answer your fucking phone.

  Goddamnit, Nora.

  I know where you are.

  You don’t know what I’m capable of. I want your word. If you’re smart, you’ll give it to me, and you’ll keep it.

  I stare at the harsh words and try to reconcile them with the Nora that I know so far. She’s clearly someone who is driven and ambitious, but that’s who she is on the outside. I also can see that on the inside, she’s vulnerable and soft. I have no clue what she might’ve done to set this guy off.

  Is he a business associate? Someone she’s dealing with at Greene Corp? A business deal?

  But he’s threatening her. I know where you are.

  What kind of colleague would threaten over a business deal?

  I set her phone back down, just in time for Nora to walk into the kitchen, in only her towel.

  I turn, and then freeze when I see her.

  Creamy white shoulders, soft skin, long legs.

  I swallow hard and meet her gaze.

  “Who’s William?” I ask simply. Her eyes grow guarded.

  She leans around me, purposely pressing her towel-clad front against me. Her soft curves fold into me, sexy and warm. I feel her nipples poke me through the towel and my groin reacts.

  The corners of her mouth turn up. “Does it matter?”

  She looks up at me, grinning impishly now, her face inches from my crotch.

  “Is there anything you need while I’m down here?”

  My dick twitches.

  “No,” I tell her firmly, pulling her up by her upper arms. “Who’s William?”

  She sighs. “Someone from work. It’s fine.”

  But it’s not fine. I can see it on her face, I can tell by the way she drains of color at the mere mention of his name. But her shoulders are back and her chin is out. She’s determined not to talk about him.

  That’s fine.

  We all have our secrets.

  She smiles triumphantly when I drop the subject and she grabs her phone, spins around, and drops her towel. It falls at my feet.

  She walks confidently out the door, as naked as the day she was born.

  Her legs flex as she walks, and her ass is round and firm and my dick reacts once again.

  Fuck.

  I groan and look away.

  I can hear Nora chuckling from the other room and I roll my eyes.

  I also hear her turn off the shower.

  Apparently, she’s changed her mind about taking one.

  She pops her head back into the kitchen.

  “Want to go skinny-dipping?”

  Yes.

  “No,” I tell her firmly. “I don’t swim.”

  “So you said,” she nods, then struts through the kitchen naked, opens the back door, and makes her way across the lawn in the broad daylight to the private beach behind the house.

  I shake my head, unable to prevent the smile from spreading across my face.

  The girl is something, that’s for sure.

  I limp to the window and watch her.

  She’s unconcerned that someone will see her. She simply doesn’t care as she puts on her show for me.

  And it’s for me. I know that.

  Nora isn’t the kind of girl to strut outside nude in the daylight for any other reason than a means to her end. For whatever reason, she’s made it her goal to get me this summer.

  I don’t know why.

  But suddenly, it feels good.

  It feels fucking good to be pursued like this, after being the one who was on the giving end of unrequited affection for so long.

  She wants me.

  Through the glass, Nora’s eyes meet mine and holds my gaze. She swims on her belly for a while, her eyes just above the surface of the water, never looking away from my own.

  She splashes and kicks at me, flipping onto her back.

  Her tits bob above the water, her nipples pointed to the sun.

  My dick twitches again.

  And then when she’s finally done showing off for me, she emerges from the water, dripping wet and bathed in
sunlight.

  She’s sexy as hell.

  And she knows it.

  She strides back across the lawn, watching me every step of the way. She climbs the back steps, crosses the kitchen, and pauses in front of me, dripping on my feet.

  “I’m cold,” she murmurs into my ear, leaning up on her tiptoes. She is. Her cold skin grazes against me, bleeding through my shirt, as her tits press into my chest. Her nipples are hard enough to cut glass and my hands ache to slide along her skin, over her hips, down to where I’d grip her ass and…

  I grit my teeth.

  “Then you should get dressed,” I tell her calmly, bending to pick up the towel she’d discarded earlier and handing it to her. I make no move to touch her, regardless of how much my traitorous fingers want to slip in between her legs and…

  I grit my teeth again.

  She sees my jaw flex and grins victoriously.

  She knows that she won the game she was playing… that she made me want her.

  I don’t bother telling her that I wanted her already.

  Instead, I just meet her gaze and hold it, until she steps back and walks away.

  This time, instead of staring at her bare ass, I focus on the black words tattooed on her shoulder blade. I saw them earlier, but I was too distracted to read them, even though they make me curious.

  Nora isn’t the type of girl I would’ve figured for a tattoo.

  She’s refined, buttoned-up, classy.

  But even still, she has black words tattooed on her shoulder blade, with a small elegant anchor. Fluctuat nec mergitur.

  It’s Latin. What does it mean?

  I pull my phone out of my pocket and punch the words into a search engine.

  A result is immediately returned.

  She is tossed by the waves, but she does not sink.

  It has meaning. It’s symbolic. The ink is stark black and the tattoo looks new.

  It’s a reminder to her… to stay strong. To be resolute. To never sink no matter what.

  My eyes narrow as I remember the text on her phone.

  I want your word. And I want you to keep it.

  I know where you are.

  Something happened to her. Something she doesn’t want to talk about, something that she’s scared of, something that involves this William person.

  I’ve seen the fear in her eyes a couple of different times, but she always covers it up.

  I’ve seen that kind of fear before, in the eyes of women in Afghanistan. In the eyes of women who had been beaten and abused and raped.

  My stomach clenches at the memory, but also for Nora.

  Someone has hurt her.

  But that someone won’t do it again, not while she’s here on my watch.

  Of that, I am certain.

  Resolutely, I make my way back out to the living room and drop into the chair by the windows. I wait while Nora gets dressed, and ponder our situation the whole time.

  We’re like two prize fighters, circling around a ring, each waiting for the other one to pounce.

  We’ve both got secrets that we don’t want the other to know.

  It’s kind of ironic.

  Nora finally emerges, clad in a t-shirt with no bra and short shorts. Her nipples poke through the thin material and the corners of her mouth twitch.

  She knows exactly what she’s wearing.

  I smile at her.

  “How was your swim?”

  She smiles back.

  Thrust and parry.

  “It was refreshing. How was watching?”

  I hold her gaze and smile again.

  “It was refreshing.”

  Her grin widens.

  “I forgot to get breakfast stuff for tomorrow. What would you like?”

  You.

  “Eggs,” I suggest.

  She nods. “Wise choice. I think I can manage eggs.”

  She grabs her purse.

  I lift an eye-brow and glance at her chest again, at the way her bare tits strain against the t-shirt and her nipples poke against the fabric.

  “Don’t you want to put on a bra?”

  I somehow manage to keep my voice level.

  She grins angelically and leans down to whisper in my ear, her tits pressed against my shoulder.

  “No. I want you thinking about my nipples while I’m gone. They taste like honey.”

  Jesus.

  With that, she saunters away.

  I swallow hard.

  Cold fish. Cold fish. Cold fish.

  Cold.

  Fucking.

  Dead.

  Fish.

  Somehow, I doubt that even the thoughts of cold dead fish are going to help me this summer.

  Chapter Seven

  Brand

  There’s nothing to do out here but stew in the idea that I’m trapped in Angel Bay. There’s barely a cell signal, I can’t get around and I can’t drive yet.

  Perfect.

  Oh, and add to that that the girl who is sharing my cottage wants to have strings-free sex with me and for some reason, I turned her down.

  What the fuck is wrong with me? I’m just going to blame it on the pain pills. They’ve addled my brain.

  With a groan, I push myself out of the chair I’m in and hobble toward the door, my crutches scraping on the floor.

  “Where are you going?” Nora asks curiously as she walks from the laundry room to the living room with a load of fresh laundry in her arms.

  “Fishing.”

  Nora starts to laugh until she sees that I’m serious.

  “Fishing?”

  I nod. “I can’t do anything else. But I can sure as hell sit on a pier.”

  Nora stares at me for a second, then sits the laundry basket down, trailing behind me.

  I pause and look at her. “Where are you going?”

  She grins up at me. “Fishing. I’ve never been.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “You’ve lived in Angel Bay every summer of your life and you’ve never been fishing?”

  She shakes her head emphatically. “Nope. There was no one to take me. My father would rather die than bait a hook, it held no interest for my mother, and our gardener Julian liked to go alone. He did all kinds of other stuff with me, but fishing was his quiet time. So… no. I’ve never been.”

  “That seems like a travesty,” I tell her as I turn back around. I eye the distance from here to the shed outside, to the edge of the pier. It seems like a hundred fucking miles with these crutches.

  “Well, then. End the madness for me,” she chirps cheerfully by my side. “Actually, I’ll meet you out there. I’m going to get a suit on.”

  “Take your time.”

  Because it will take me a hundred years to get situated.

  Fuck.

  She does take her time. Because it takes me twenty minutes to hobble to the shed, find a couple of poles and a bait-box and then drag all of that stuff to the end of the pier. All while on crutches.

  I feel quite accomplished as I drop it all, then sit on the edge, carefully dangling my feet over the board pier. It hurts to bend my knee, of course, but not as much as it did yesterday.

  That’s progress, damn it.

  I’m baiting a hook with a lure when Nora comes prancing down the pier in a pair of heels and a bikini so tiny it might as well not be there. I stifle a groan as she leans down next to me, making sure to stick her ass out as she does.

  Her ass is perfectly rounded.

  I look away as I cast my line.

  Cold fish. Cold fish in the lake. Cold fish, cold fish.

  “Want a pole?” I ask her, watching my bobber float on the surface of the water. Nora chuckles.

  “Yes. Didn’t I make that clear last night?”

  I roll my eyes. “Are you always like this?”

  She picks up the pole next to me, fiddling with it. “Like what?”

  “So. Uh. Desperate.”

  She sucks in a breath and turns to me, indignation spitting from her eyes. I almost laugh.
>
  “I’m not desperate,” she announces, sticking her nose in the air as she further tangles the line on her pole. Annoyed, she tosses it down. “That’s broken.”

  I can’t help but laugh as I pick it up and untangle it for her, handing it back. “Don’t mess with that part,” I point at the line. “Hold this button down, then release it as you cast it. Like this.”

  I demonstrate.

  “And you’re acting desperate. A woman like you doesn’t need to beg someone to fuck her.”

  My tone is probably harsher than it needed to be because I can practically see her flinch.

  “I’m not desperate,” she repeats, softer this time. “I just… I know what I want. And I only have a limited time to get it. That makes me driven, not desperate.”

  I stare at her, at the way the sun is already flushing her cheeks, at the strange look in her eyes… vulnerable, but determined. And I can’t help but wonder once again, why she wants me so much.

  I’m not stupid. I know I’m not lacking in female attention. But a girl like Nora can have literally anyone she wants. And girls like that don’t usually throw themselves at someone….because they think they’re above that.

  It mystifies me.

  We’re quiet for a while, surrounded by the scent of the hot wooden boards, the lake water, the sunshine.

  But it doesn’t take long for Nora to get antsy, and I can see why her gardener wanted to be alone to fish. She chatters, and I sigh.

  “You know, when you talk, you scare away the fish,” I finally tell her.

  She glares up at me.

  “You’re not catching anything anyway.”

  I sigh again. “It takes time. And patience.”

  She falls silent for just a minute, then my mouth falls open as she unties her bikini top.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I blurt as she drops her top on the pier and sits topless in the broad daylight.

  “I don’t want lines,” she shrugs. “There’s no one out here anyway. This is a private pier.” She turns her back to me, and thrusts a plastic bottle over her shoulder. “Put some sunscreen on my back, would you? It’s a curse of being a ginger, I burn easily.”

  You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

  It’s the oldest trick in the book. A chick asks you to put lotion on them at the beach in order to get attention.