EXcapades (19 page)

We watched the elevator doors open, and we stepped inside, ready to go back to the room. But first he placed his hand on my bottom. “I’m going to impound you with my passion, right here, right now.” He laughed, filling the small elevator with his vivacious presence. “I’m just kidding, Lila. I felt you tense up. Scared you, right?”

While finger combing his hair, he said, “Let’s just go back to the room.”

I sighed in relief. Unlike so many I had heard about, I was not excited by confined spaces like elevators or airplane bathrooms. But if he insisted, I might try to find the fun in it. Gratefully, he didn’t.

When the elevator stopped on our floor, we stepped out into the empty hall. As we scurried down the corridor, I was giddy like a schoolgirl, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had this much fun. I begged my body to keep up.

In the privacy of our room, Blake quickly undressed down to his green camouflage boxer briefs while I watched, smiling in admiration. “Do they teach you to undress that quickly in the military?” I teased.

“You’re a funny lady. I’ve learned many skills over the years. Would you like me to show you a few examples?” His eyes twinkled.

“Not so fast there, soldier.” My eyes looked at his bare legs while I spoke. “Look how muscular your thighs are.”

“We’re often required to carry heavy gear. My thighs used to be so big they would rub together.”

“Now that’s a fascinating image.” My gaze gravitated toward the outline of his burgeoning cock that pressed against his briefs. “I love those boxer briefs, but I like you better without them. May I slide those down your legs and salute you?” I giggled.

But Blake didn’t give me the chance; instead, he motioned me with his finger to step closer. The next thing I knew, he encircled his muscular arms around me, pressing his partially nude body against mine. “I can’t get enough of you,” he whispered, kissing the curve of my shoulder. His eyes were eager, hungry. I felt turned on again from his touch, but my body was fading quickly.

“Blake, you’re insatiable.”

“Only for you, my dear. You just keep me fired up and ready to go.”

I sighed. How did I get so lucky this time, to have a man who was so enthusiastic for me? My mind longed for Blake, similar to the manner in which he lusted after me, but my energy level was critically low.
That man does need caution tape around him. I could get hurt trying to keep up with him.
Was I beginning to feel my knees buckle? I let out a loud sigh of pleasure or maybe just fatigue. I did not want him to become aware of my reluctance. Nor did I want to disappoint him or diminish his enthusiasm. My spirit felt engaged and eager to continue, but my flesh grew weary.
Better stop now before I collapse.
Although I felt drained, I loved every second of his touch.

Blake must have sensed my hesitation. He surprised me by saying, “I have an idea. How about I just give you a back rub and we snuggle. Would you like that? And tomorrow morning we can enjoy that bubble bath together.”

I wanted to shout out with joy. Instead, I only nodded my head. I assumed he said all of this for my sake because he didn’t look tired. But I was exhausted. Was this a ploy to get me into bed? I was really uncertain when he took my hand. “Come with me and let me teach you about staying in bed on a cold snowy night,” he said.

“You mean rather than lie in the freezing snow?” I asked. We burst with laughter. I did not have a second to hesitate and ponder his offer. Before I could say another word, he pulled me on the soft bed. We lay down, side by side, while he caressed my smooth skin. However, Blake held true to his word—he only massaged and held me.

In the silence, we could hear the freezing rain, and escalating wind tapping against the windows. We wrapped the blankets around us and cuddled. Stroking my arm and gazing into my eyes, Blake said, “I want to wake up with you every day and see your beautiful smile first thing. It warms my heart and my soul. Each day that you’re in my life is happier than the one before.”

I exhaled. “I feel young again in your arms.” I saw happiness dance in his eyes, and I continued. “You could hurt your lovers with your voracity.”

There was a pause, and then he burst out laughing. But as soon as I made the joke, I thought about how I only wanted him for myself. And I felt a pang of jealousy at the thought of him with another woman. That conversation used the last of my energy. I snuggled on his chest, and began to fall asleep. He kissed my bare shoulders, and his fingers continued to stroke my arm in downward sweeps. I nestled against his neck, and he held me tightly.

As if feeling his affectionate gaze, I opened my eyes to meet his as he stared down at me. I almost could see a warm wave of tenderness sweep over him. For a brief second, he held his hand over his heart. Could he be surprised by a strange feeling? Maybe his heart was beginning to heal.

Looking deep into his eyes, I knew it was almost time to share my secret.
I don’t think you want to know my secret.
I wanted to tell Blake, but not yet. I did not want him to be with me only because he felt pity for me. I had to know if it was real.

We lay there memorizing each other’s faces as if we never wanted this special time to end. I knew I would cherish the memory of this magical night. At that exact instant, I felt a throbbing pain in my side. I tried to take slow, deep breaths to keep from writhing in agony. I did not want him to see my fear.

His strong arms were enclosed around me, holding me against his chest. Using his free hand, he rubbed tenderly up and down on my exposed arm. He wrapped his leg around mine, creating a protective barrier. For that instant, I felt safe from the world. As I nestled in his arms, I wished the pain would go away.
Breathe deep. Relax.
And with that thought, the pain eased. I drifted peacefully to sleep.

Chapter 12

The next morning, I woke with an overall feeling that something was wrong. I lay frozen in fear. I grimaced from stinging abdominal pain that made my ribcage throb. Opening my eyes in a flash, I discovered the room spinning, so I quickly shut them.

When I finally did pry my eyes open, the room was filled with sunlight. I felt disoriented and confused. After a few seconds, I tried to focus and looked around the bedroom. I edged myself onto my elbow and looked for Blake. Where was he? And where was I? I shook my head, trying to release that muddled feeling.

The last time I woke up feeling this way, I’d been drinking tequila. But that experience was years ago—one tequila, two tequila, three tequila . . . floor. “To-kill-you.” My friends would joke about their tequila-filled nights. And I was feeling like the punch line to their jokes.

But oddly, I’d had only a couple glasses of wine last night, and it had never affected me this way before. Was this a hangover? No, it couldn’t be. I swallowed hard. My mouth was dry, and my stomach ached. I felt as if I’d been eating sandpaper. And I’d never been this thirsty.

I tried to recall the events of the prior day. Vague visions flashed through my mind—of the snow and the fitness room. But beyond those bursts of thought, my mind was hazy. Slowly, I began to visualize yesterday’s fun. Last night was exciting, but I didn’t do anything to cause this kind of physical response.

Finally, I collected myself and jerked my head sharply toward the clock. I blinked frantically. What time was it? I still couldn’t read those blurry numbers. I rolled my entire body over and studied the clock. Did it flash one o’clock
p.m.
?
Could that really be possible?

I tried to untangle myself from the sheets, swung my legs over the edge of the bed, and stood. My legs turned to jelly. I teetered back and forth. I stumbled and fell limp into the bed. It was a futile effort.
Maybe sex for a day straight could wear out anyone. I sighed; evidently not Blake.

A moment later I tried to rise again, but this time more slowly. I felt my knees shaking and stood a minute to gather my composure. For some reason, I was finding it hard to breathe. I felt nauseous and dragged myself to the bathroom and risked a glance in the mirror. Bad idea; I was a mess.

I turned the faucet on full blast, and it gushed with a whooshing sound. Next, I splashed cold water on my face. No help. I still felt trapped in someone else’s body. I closed my eyes and wished to be healthy again. At the same time, I heard Blake enter the hotel room. “Lila,” he shouted. My heart beat faster from the sound of his voice.

I whimpered, “I’ll be out briefly.” And I remembered my doctor’s cautionary words:
“Take it easy.”

Blake shouted and rapped on the closed bathroom door. “Are you in there?” A minute later, he charged into the bathroom, looking alarmed.

The sight he saw could not have been pretty. I was sitting on the vanity chair with my head pressed against the mirror, eyes swollen and half-closed. Even delirious, I could read the sudden surprised look on his face and his shudder of shock—unmistakable. There was no hiding my plight. My health had declined so rapidly overnight, the sight of me now made his breath gasp. I must have looked up with an empty stare and pained appearance. Blake viewed me with his mouth open in horror.

Blake declared, “No. No. What happened?”

I know I must look haggard, but this was not the response I wanted to hear. In a toneless voice I heard myself say, “I think I need help getting back into bed.” My words sounded distorted, almost swirling in my head, and I wondered if someone else was speaking them.
Am I just mumbling nebulous phrases, or can he understand me?
And am I saying my words out loud?

From my fumbling words, and glassy-eyed gaze, we both knew the situation had turned abysmal. My entire appearance must have altered from the vivacious woman he had held the night before. The fun ideas we had planned for the day all but disappeared.

But once I finally regained some of my composure, I took careful note of the vision in front of me. In my fleeting seconds of lucidity, I saw that Blake looked exceptional in his tight running pants and form-fitting shirt stretched tight across his chest.
He is fireman-level gorgeous
.

And there was no mistaking the contrast between us. This afternoon, I knew my face looked sick, pale, and pasty, and he looked so healthy, energetic, and vibrant.

He gently stroked my hair. “How are you feeling, sweetness?”

After a long silence, I gave an enervated response that was more of a mumble. “Better now that I see your gorgeous, sweaty body.”

He laughed. “Well, at least you still have your sense of humor. I’m a little drenched. I just finished an eight-mile run.” But I was barely listening, because I was only thinking about how exhausted I felt and hoped I wouldn’t collapse. Blake interrupted my daze. “Maybe your caffeine level is getting critically low. How about I get you some and fuel you back up?”

“Are you teasing me again?” I asked. I stood, but I staggered and faltered when I took my first step.

He grabbed my arm and led me back to the bed; his touch instantly soothed me. “Rest may help you. You looked so peaceful earlier. I didn’t want to wake you. So I had breakfast, read the paper, and worked out.” I only could marvel at his stamina. Blake was something else with his high energy level and perpetually pleasant demeanor.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, swinging my legs, I said, “Maybe my equilibrium is just a little off?”

He shook his head. “What were you—sneaking shots of vodka throughout the day?”

I tilted my head and made a pouty face. “Funny guy. I’m just having a rough day, and maybe I’m fighting off a cold.” Even I could hear how exhausted I sounded. And my words were not fooling anyone.

“Are you sure there isn’t something else we need to discuss?” he asked.

After shaking my head, he helped me climb under the covers. He tucked the blankets around me and kissed my forehead. Even feeling sick, he brought out my smile. I flashed grateful eyes at him. “You’re the light in my darkness,” I said.

“You’re my light,” he whispered. He jumped to his feet and bolted toward the door. I listened to his footsteps fading. And then with a sigh I clutched the sheets around myself. I closed my eyes; I wished I had the energy to keep up with him today. I heard the door close.

“Wait,” I called after him. “I didn’t mean to send you running for your life.” I shouted.

The door opened, and Blake peeked in. “Lila, didn’t you hear me? I said I’m getting you a soda.”

I pulled the sheet over my mouth. “Oh.” A moment later, I sat upright. I
tried to give him my best welcoming smile when he returned.

He handed me the cold soda, but I was too exhausted to drink more than a couple sips. I lay back on the pillows, and the need for sleep began to overpower me.

Blake sat by my side while I started to drift peacefully to sleep. My breathing rate slowed and became shallow. I muttered incoherent words. I could see Blake leaning in to hear my babble, trying to make out what I said.

In my delirium, I panicked about my sickness. I wanted to tell Blake, but I was afraid.
Did I just mumble something? Did I just say out loud, “I’m leaving you
. . .
I’m going to have to leave you?”
No, I must have thought those words. In my confused state, I wasn’t sure what was real. But I thought I saw Blake stare at me in wide-eyed silence while he grabbed for his stomach. A moment later, he rushed out of the room and slammed the door. My head felt fuzzy, confused, and I quickly drifted to sleep.

When I woke up an hour later, I was myself again, almost euphoric to feel good again. However, that elated feeling quickly passed when I saw Blake’s bags packed by the door. He stood by the window, his spine stiff and his arms crossed. My smile faded fast.

He was silent, almost brooding, and had a grim look as if he had swallowed cough medicine. Blake turned toward me, his eyes narrowed. An unusual expression crossed his eyes, and then it vanished.

Instantly, I could see from Blake’s pursed mouth that he was holding back something.
But what?

I shrugged. “Is something wrong?” I asked guardedly. “Did I say or do something to upset you?”

Reluctantly, I eyed Blake, waiting for an answer. Silence. He refused to look directly at me. And his eyes skipped away when I tried to catch them.
Why are you being so evasive?

I tried to distract myself by looking at my fingernails. Still no response.
I can hold my breath while I wait.
I began counting.
One, two, three, four, and five. Okay . . . breathe.

“Why do we need to rush home? I thought we had another full day at the resort?” I asked, pressing for an answer.

He shrugged with a downcast face.

I pouted. “Were you upset because I slept all day? I’m sorry that I didn’t feel well and ruined our fun. I’m feeling much better now.”

He shook his head. “Of course not. I’m glad you recovered.” But I didn’t feel right about the way his eyes shifted when he answered, and that dour expression on his face left me mystified.

“Thanks.”

Blake looked at me and said impatiently, “I need to go.” His lips curved up slightly; however, that smile seemed fake, more like a sneer.

“Sure,” I said.

And he added through his false smile, “I have some business to take care of and need to get back.”
What did I do?
Blake asked me indignantly, “Would you like me to help you pack?”

Shaking my head, I quickly gathered my things, my happiness all but forgotten.

I persisted with the questions. “Are you mad at me?”

“No.” His curt response didn’t help me find answers.

“What is going on?” I asked. Blake jerked his hand in the air as if to stop me mid-sentence. And my eyes popped wide open. It was interesting how such a small gesture could tell so much, without saying a word.

I rushed my packing; meanwhile, Blake stood watching me, clearly impatient. What was going on behind those angry eyes? I wanted to shout at him, but instead I stood next to my packed bags with a limp smile.

The ride home was tense and uncomfortable. The two of us barely exchanged a word except for a brief discussion about the quickest route back to Raleigh. I was relieved that the snow had stopped, and the roads were cleared. Regardless, it was dreary both outside and in; there was no escaping the lingering gray clouds.

To ease the tension, I removed a magazine from my travel bag and scanned it. I acted like I took incredible pleasure in reading my article, but occasionally I slid a glance his direction and saw his eyes fixed on the road in front of us.

And rather than comprehend the written words, my mind was running a mental marathon—going over every detail from the weekend.
What changed his mind?

I didn’t even try to carry on cheerful conversation because Blake immersed himself in what felt like interminable silence. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him glance over toward me with something like a scowl on his face as I continued pretending to read.

Why the cold treatment after such a hot weekend
?
I wanted to tell him, “I am through trying to understand you
.”
I don’t get you at all!
But really I just wanted our fun back.