Exp1re

by Erin Noelle

  “Fair is subjective. I live in absolutes.” I steal another chaste kiss, then add with a confident smirk, “And you are absolutely about to do this with me.”

  For a split second, I think she’s going to argue again, but the glint of resistance fades as quickly as it appears, and she nods her head in agreement. “Okay, Professor West, but I’m expecting that kissed stupid thing later.”

  My face stretches into what I’m sure is a ridiculous-ass grin, but I can’t help it. This girl drives me crazy.

  “Deal,” I confirm then open the car door and unfold myself, still holding her to my chest.

  Once I’m standing at full height, I slowly lower her to the ground, careful not to bump her wrapped fingers, and savor every second she’s pressed against my body. A tease of how she’ll feel pinned underneath me.

  “So what is this exactly?” she asks while scanning the chutes and gear that’s scattered about in the open space next to the main building. “Are we skydiving? I’m not sure I’m ready to jump out of a plane. And what if I need my hand?”

  I loop my arm around her shoulders and draw her closer then kiss the side of her head. “No planes and your hand will be just fine. This is paragliding, and they say this is the best place in the world to do it.”

  Lyra looks up at me and wrinkles her tiny nose. “I’m not sure who they are, but maybe they should consider places where flying into the side of a mountain isn’t a possibility.”

  Throwing my head back, I bark out a deep laugh. “It’s the thermal winds between the mountains that make flying possible here. The vertical wind shear is a function of a horizontal temperature gradient, or a variation in temperature over parallel distances. It’s also called baroclinic flow, and it acts like a heat bubble that shifts the winds as it rises up into the atmosphere.”

  “Don’t math and science me this early in the morning,” she grumbles. “And you didn’t say anything about not pancaking into the side of a mountain.”

  “Nothing’s gonna happen. I told you that.” I hold her stare, wanting so badly for her to be able to understand how sure of this I am. “Now come on, our flight time is at 8:30 and we still have to go through the instructional class.”

  Grabbing her good hand, I lead her toward the large tan building where several people are milling around the main entrance. An older woman in a neon orange Tandemfly Dolomiti T-shirt holding a clipboard greets us as we enter the lobby with a super-sized smile and a cheerful “Ciao!”

  Lyra glances up and offers the lady an acknowledging nod, but she doesn’t make eye contact. She rarely ever does with anyone but me. I’ve wanted to ask her about it on many occasions, but she’s so skittish I don’t want to put her on guard or have her run off. Especially not now that I’ve finally broken through her protective walls.

  “Good morning,” I respond automatically as I pull up my reservation number on my phone. “I’m Octavian West and this is Lyra Jennings. I emailed yesterday about booking a trip for the two of us this morning.”

  She peruses the list in front of her until she finds our names then checks them off. “Yes, Signore West,” she says, her Italian accent thick. “Zach and Anthony are waiting for you outside near the equipment, and they will go over everything you’ll need to know. Enjoy your ride.”

  Back outside we go and, thanks to the bright-colored shirts all the employees seem to wear, it doesn’t take long to find our pilots. We exchange handshakes and a round of hellos, and surprisingly, as if she just heard my thoughts from a few minutes ago, Lyra actually meets the gaze of both men. It’s brief, but purposeful, almost as if she’s searching for something. And afterward, I feel her rigid body relax a fraction next to me.

  We both pay rapt attention as they explain what we’ll be doing and the safety information. Thankfully, their English is clear and precise, making it easy for us to understand. When they finish the fifteen-minute instructional session, they step off to the side and wait for us to put on the lightweight nylon flying suits over our clothes, speaking in Italian to each other. Lyra laughs under her breath at something they say, and they both snap their attention to her, obviously as shocked as I am.

  “Egli non pesa più di tanto, e posso urlare tutto il tempo,” she tells them, smirking.

  “You speak Italian?” I ask, impressed, as I step into my suit and zip it up then move to help her do the same. “How many languages do you know?”

  She chews on her bottom lip and peers up at me through her dark lashes. “I’m fluent in English, Spanish, Portuguese, Italian, and French. I know a little Latin, German, and Russian—enough to get by if I needed to.”

  “What the hell, woman? What, are you a spy for the government?” I joke in an attempt to suppress my arousal. Fuck if she isn’t the smartest, sexiest woman I’ve ever met.

  Chuckling, she shrugs likes it’s no big deal. “When you don’t have a social life or a regular nine-to-five gig, you have a lot of free time to read and teach yourself new things. I figured with my job as a photographer, it would be important to communicate in the places I want to travel to, so I started teaching myself in high school. I actually double majored in college in photography and linguistics.”

  “So what did you just say to them?”

  Her cheeks pinken as her gaze drops to the grass. “Nothing really.”

  “Buttercup…” I lift her chin with two of my fingers, forcing her to look up at me. “What did you say?”

  “They were deciding who would be paired up with who,” she admits, amusement dancing in her eyes, “and I basically told them even though you weigh more, I’ll probably scream in my pilot’s ear the entire time.”

  I glower at the two men, both of who are around my age, and they at least have the decency to look somewhat contrite about arguing over which lucky bastard is going to get to fly with Lyra. Because I know that’s exactly what it was. I didn’t miss the way they checked her out when we walked up, not that I can really fault them much. It’s impossible to keep your eyes off her. She’s fucking gorgeous.

  Lyra grabs my upper arm with her good hand and giggles, drawing my attention back to her. “Stop,” she whispers so that only I can hear. “They didn’t say anything rude or disrespectful. I think they’re just intimidated by your imposing size, babe.”

  She squeezes my bicep and lifts up on her tiptoes to softly press her lips to the corner of my mouth, and just like that, my irritation is forgotten. Her kiss makes everything better, overwhelmingly effortless and easy. Her calling me ‘babe’ makes me feel larger and more profound than the vast mountain range surrounding us.

  A feral growl rumbles in my chest as I fist her ponytail and crash my mouth onto hers, not giving a damn who watches us. I’ve never understood the caveman mentality until now, but fuck if this girl doesn’t make me want to throw her over my shoulder, slap her ass, and shout “Mine!” to everyone around us.

  Once I’m finished with my shameless public declaration of being pussy-whipped, even if her sweet center is something I’ve only fantasized about thus far, we join the pilots near the gliders and start the process of getting strapped into the harnesses. I snicker under my breath when I notice that Zach, Lyra’s tandem partner, is trying his best not to touch her as he tightens the belts and ties. Scowling at my perverse enjoyment in the guy’s now reluctant handling of her, she sticks her tongue out at me.

  “If something happens to me because I’m not properly fastened in this thing, it’s all your fault,” she grumbles to me once he’s finished with her and focused on his own gear.

  I tug on her straps to ensure they’re snug and secure, which they are, then do the same to mine. “We’re all good, buttercup. Nothing’s gonna happen except for the most fan-fucking-tastic hour of your life. You can thank me later.”

  After planting a purposeful kiss on her lips, I move over to Anthony, who steps into the harness behind me and buckles himself in. Adrenaline races through my veins, and despite the warm outside temperature and the bright morning sun beating do
wn on me, goose bumps pop up on my arms and the back of my neck. This feeling right here—the buzzing anticipation and whirring excitement—is what I live for.

  This… and now her.

  Lyra and Zach are scheduled to go first, and after one last glance over her shoulder at me, the two of them take off running through the grassy field toward the edge of the cliff. My gut dips and my breath hitches as they run out of earth below their feet and launch themselves off the side of the mountain, and as the gust of wind catches the glider and thrusts them up into the sky, my face hurts I’m smiling so fucking big.

  She’s doing it. She’s really doing it! Proud doesn’t even begin to describe the emotion erupting inside me right now.

  “Our turn, big guy,” Anthony says from behind me. “An easy jog until my cue to jump.”

  I nod and give him a thumbs-up, my eyes still on Lyra as she glides between the jagged peaks. I’m not sure if I’m more excited for her or me, even though I’ve dreamt about doing this for years.

  He counts to three and we move in unison, gradually picking up speed as we approach the ledge. On his signal, I push off the ground with my last step and propel my weight forward, and after a split second of free fall, a thermal gust lifts the kite into the air and we’re flying high.

  It’s in this moment as I soar freely like an uncaged bird over the awe-inspiring scenery below that I realize no matter what thrill-seeking adventures and exploits I tackle in the future, or what death-defying stunts I’ve survived in the past, nothing compares to the absolute rightness I feel when I’m with Lyra.

  The pi to my circle of happiness.

  LYRA

  07.15.15

  Tavian was right. Nothing could’ve prepared me for the mind-blowing awesomeness that was today. After waking up for the second morning in a row engulfed in Tavian’s strong arms with his morning erection snuggled against my ass, I astonished even myself and pushed past my fears. I was rewarded with the most incredible hour soaring through the mountains and gaining a whole new perspective on and appreciation for living life to the fullest. Paragliding is now officially my third favorite thing to do, with photography being my second and kissing Tavian ranking first. I’m not sure anything can top that.

  Once our feet were firmly back on the ground and we thanked our pilots a million times, we drove to Urtijëi, a quaint little storybook town nestled in the heart of the Alps, and spent the afternoon strolling the stone streets, stopping in different shops and cafes. Tavian held my hand the entire time and snuck kisses every chance he got, and I relished every little bit of it, knowing we only have a couple days left. Hours flew by in seconds, and before we knew it, the summer sun had begun her descent and it was time to head back to our rental house.

  Now, here I am in the pool, after somehow wrestling myself into my swimsuit with my one functioning hand, waiting for Tavian to join me. The blanket of stars above is no less spectacular than last night, but tonight I’m too anxious to pay attention. All day I’ve been thinking about how I can thank Tavian for this morning. Hell, for this entire trip.

  No matter what transpires when we get back to the states, I will always hold him in the highest regard. He’s given me a second chance at this life one only gets to live once. And though I can tell him how appreciative I am for everything he’s done for me, I want to show him. To give him everything I have.

  “Are you thirsty?” Tavian asks from behind me, tearing me from my thoughts.

  I spin around and hiss under my breath at the sight of him, looking like a Greek god with the glow of the light behind him, emphasizing his hard lines and broad shoulders. My nipples tingle in reaction to his eyes sweeping over my chest as I stand in the waist-deep water, and I’m glad my bikini bottoms are already wet to hide what’s going on down there.

  “Huh?” I ask, my own gaze lingering at the defined V that disappears into his snug board shorts.

  “Drink?” He chuckles and holds up a bottle of wine and two glasses. “I asked if you were thirsty, but maybe I should grab some food instead, because you look hungry.”

  I snap my focus back to his face and my cheeks burn with mortification. I can only hope it’s dark enough out here that he can’t see how red they must be. “No food, but yes to wine.” I somehow manage to say, then use the time it takes him to pour the glasses to regroup and get control of my overactive hormones.

  Spastic isn’t sexy, Lyra. It’s bad enough you have absolutely zero experience in any of this other than what you’ve seen in movies and read about in books. Don’t make it more awkward than it’s already going to be.

  My back is to him when he enters the pool, but I am keenly aware as he draws near. His spicy, stimulating scent reaches me first and all the hairs on my arm stand up seconds before his front is pressed to my back and his forearm drapes over my shoulder, grazing my boob in the process, to hand me my drink.

  “Here you go, bella donna,” he sings then kisses the top of my head.

  “Thank you, bello uomo.”

  I take a long gulp of the velvety red for liquid courage, savoring the warmth it provides in my chest, while watching Tavian glide through the water to sit on the built-in bench next to the side. Not wanting to seem overly desperate, even though I want to touch him so badly I feel like a supernova at the end of its life cycle, I hang back in the middle of the pool and wait for him to give final confirmation he wants this too before I make a complete fool of myself.

  Luckily, I don’t have to wait long.

  Leveling me with his heated gaze, he sets his glass down on the concrete edge then beckons me with his finger. "Bring your gorgeous ass over here, buttercup. I have a promise to make good on," he says, his voice low and throaty.

  A shiver snakes up my spine as I feel a sharp tug in my lower belly. The nerves and insecurities are wiped away as carnal desire takes over.

  “A promise?” I ask, slowly inching in his direction, careful not to spill my drink.

  When I get within reaching distance, he leans forward and plucks the glass out of my hand, setting it next to his. He then grasps me by the waist and hauls me onto his lap, claiming my lips with his. I forget all about whatever I just asked him and dive head first into the kiss, my arms locking around his neck as his fingertips dig into my hipbones. Our tongues glide fluidly together while our hearts beat in sync. Two people created to move as one.

  I’m breathless by the time our mouths finally break apart, and despite the cool water I’m submerged in, my body is ablaze. Especially directly between my thighs, where I’m balanced on his shaft. Which I can feel thickening and twitching through the thin material of our swimsuits. It takes every ounce of willpower I have not to shamelessly rub myself against him and try to extinguish the fire burning inside me.

  “I promised you I’d kiss you stupid.” Tavian weaves his fingers around my nape and into my wet hair while peppering kisses along my jawline and up to my ear. "And since my little photographer is as smart as she is sexy, I’d better get started. This may take a while.”

  “Oh, Tavian,” I moan as he angles my head back and drops his mouth to my neck, licking and nipping a heated trail down to my throat. The threads of my restraint stretch taut, and with every passing second, the strain increases exponentially. The tension is deliciously frustrating.

  “That’s it,” he growls into my neck. “Gonna make you feel so damn good all you remember is my name.”

  Eager to please him, I open my mouth to say his name again, but before any sound comes out, he tilts his hips upward and presses his throbbing erection against my seam. And just like that, my self-control snaps and instincts take over.

  "Yessss,” I hiss as I brazenly grind my aching core up and down his hard length, inhibition and uncertainty be damned. “Oh my God, yes.”

  He releases his grip on my hair and fumbles briefly with the ties on my bikini top until the purple fabric separates from my chest and drifts away, leaving my bare breasts bobbing at the surface of the water. I gasp as the cool mount
ain breeze tickles my exposed skin and causes my already hard nipples to pull impossibly tight.

  Smirking, he lowers his mouth to my chest and murmurs, "Not God, just Tavian,” before flicking his tongue across the rosy peak on the left and then capturing it between his teeth.

  I squeak at the slight sting from his playful bite, but the prickle quickly morphs into pure pleasure when he licks and sucks on the pebbled tip like it’s his favorite-flavored lollipop. My eyes roll back into my head and I arch into his touch as he shifts his attention to the right side. I want him to do this all night. And then all day tomorrow, too.

  Somehow, while he’s busy teasing and taunting my nipples with his mouth, Tavian spins us around and lifts me out of the pool so that my ass is perched on the edge and he’s kneeling on the bench, situated between my legs. It’s not until my butt cheeks hit the rough concrete that my lids flutter open and I realize we’ve moved.

  “Tavian,” I breathe when our hungry eyes find each other, my heart beating at light speed.

  “That’s me, baby.” He treats me to that cocky grin I love so much. Damn chin dimple. “Now lay back and enjoy. Gonna make you fly higher than you did this morning.”

  Leaning back on my elbows, I watch as he begins a slow descent down my wet frame, his lips and tongue forging a sizzling path from between my boobs down to the top of my bikini. His fingers skim up my parted thighs to grasp the soaked fabric and wriggle it down over my hips. I lift up instinctively, forgetting to freak out that I’m about to be completely naked in front of him.

  He slides the bottoms down my legs and tosses them to the side then drops down to be eye-level with my slick lower lips. I know I should feel embarrassed, ashamed even, but I don’t. Not even a little bit. I want him to make me his in every way.

  “So fucking beautiful, Lyra,” he murmurs. His hot breath against my inner thighs sends a shot of fervent lust rippling through my veins.

  Parting me with his fingers, his touch gentle but firm, he swipes his tongue down my center once, twice, then a third time, until my hips jerk and lift off the ground and I’m whimpering and pleading for more. His thumb finds and presses on my tiny bundle of nerves as his tongue teases my slit until he finally pushes inside my burning core.