Freefall (10 page)

He clenched his teeth, cursing under his breath.

“What did you say?” she asked, lifting her head. “It sounded like Spanish.”

Ignoring the question, he threaded his hand through her hair and pulled her close enough to kiss her senseless.

She rubbed her naked belly against his erection. “I want you in me.”

“Fuck,” he said. “I don’t have any condoms.”

Rolling off him, she unzipped the front of the tent and reached outside, into her pack. “Good thing one of us is prepared,” she said, tossing him the square.

“You’re some kind of woman,” he said with reverence.

After he suited up for action, she climbed aboard, impaling herself on his length. They both groaned at the sensation. He felt just right, thick and hard. She was dripping wet. It was a perfect fit.

“Touch me,” she said, quivering.

His shoulder must not have hurt too much, because he lifted both hands to her breasts, trapping her nipples between his fingers. When she sobbed for more, he increased the pressure, pinching the puckered tips.

She needed to come—now.

Covering his right hand with hers, she pushed it down her belly. He licked his thumb, knowing exactly what she needed. Then he paused, frowning. “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s too small. I can’t find it.”

“What?”

He touched her inner thigh. “Is it over here?”

She was going to kill him. “You know where it is.”

He licked the pad of his thumb again, placed it on one side of her clitoris, and then the other. “Am I getting warmer?”

About to explode, she urged his fingertip to the right spot and held it there. Panting, she moved up and down on him, up and down. Seconds later, she cried out, arching her back. Her head hit the top of the tent. It folded over on her, collapsing at the worst possible moment. She thrashed against the blue nylon, still lost in the throes of orgasm. When she uncovered her face, holding the tent up with her arms, she found Jay sputtering with laughter.

“You did that on purpose!”

“No,” he gasped.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’ll fix it,” he said, sobering. She scrambled off him and he freed them from the tent. He rearranged the sleeping bag and they crawled inside together. It was kind of cozy, watching rain cascade off the rock’s edge.

He kissed her bare shoulder. “Better?”

She nodded, snuggling against him. His erection prodded her buttocks, indicating that he’d like to finish what they’d started. He stroked her nipples until they jutted forth. Her body tingled with renewed interest.

“Maybe I can make it up to you,” he said, moving south. Resting his weight on his good arm, he settled between her parted thighs. Glancing up at her face, he brushed his lips over her unadorned sex.

“Did you lose your place again?”

“I think I remember where I was.” He found her clitoris with ease, suckling it gently. His motions were soft and unhurried, bathing her in languid sensation. A second climax rippled through her like warm rain.

She opened her eyes to the sight of his glistening mouth, which struck her as ridiculously sexy.

“Should I stay down here?” he asked, smiling.

She beckoned him up with a crooked finger. He stretched out on his back again and she climbed astride, her slick flesh swallowing his. Feeling deliciously full, she leaned forward to lick her taste from his lips. He groaned, tightening his hands on her waist. She was flush from orgasm, well satiated, so she focused on him. While she worked her hips in sinuous motions, his eyes strayed to the place where their bodies were joined.

Watching his face, she slid down on him slow, slow, slow. He let out a string of guttural curse words and jerked underneath her, his fingertips digging into the soft flesh of her buttocks. She rocked back and forth, squeezing him with her inner muscles, trying to maximize his pleasure as he came. They stayed connected for several long moments, listening to water fall over rocks. Then he lifted her up and went to dispose of the condom. He came back to her, drawing her into his arms.

Before she drifted off, she thought of Tom. If he’d been half as enthusiastic in bed as Jay, she might have accepted his sports obsession.

Sex this good was worth compromising for.

CHAPTER TEN

S
AM
ALMOST
WALKED
over the edge with Hope.

If she hadn’t halted his forward progress, they both would have fallen. He barely had enough time to grab the safety line and get down on the ground. As the thin cord caught her weight, she let out a sharp cry. He leaned back as far as possible, digging his heels in as she dangled beneath him.

“Hope?”

“My top is ripping,” she gasped.

Cursing, he repositioned himself, inching toward her on his belly. He released the cord with one hand and stretched out his arm. “Take my hand.”

“I can’t reach it!”

He tried again, his fingers splayed wide. She found him by grasping in the dark. Sobbing his name, she grabbed his hand with both of hers. As soon as they connected, her Spandex tore and the line went slack.

She screamed, swinging in space.

“I’ve got you,” he said, reaching down with his other arm. “Try to find a foothold.”

While he held on tight, she searched for a convenient grip. Her legs bicycled and came up empty. He could sense the gaping maw around them. She’d fallen off an outcropping with nothingness on all sides.

His palm grew slick with sweat. She was going to slip.

“Stop,” he said, nauseous from fear. “I’ll pull you up.”

She fumbled for a better grip. When his wristband slid off his hand, into the abyss, she nearly went with it. He gritted his teeth and prayed for strength.

“I won’t let you go,” he said hoarsely.

She curled her fingers around his now-bare left wrist. He did the same, making an interlocking grip. Although he had powerful arms, and she was slender, he wasn’t sure it was physically possible to lift her this way. But fuck physics. His blood was pumping with adrenaline and that counted for a lot.

Fueled by fear, he pulled her toward him, his biceps screaming in protest. He thought he might pop an artery in his neck. When she was close enough to grab the collar of his shirt, he fisted a hand in her sports top and yanked her upward. She hooked one knee over the edge and did the rest.

They lay side by side, panting from anxiety and relief. He didn’t think his heart could handle any more stress. His nerves were at a breaking point. His brain hadn’t been functioning properly since the coma. He was going to need a vacation in the loony bin after this was over. Assuming they survived.

The cavern must have had some ambient light, because he could make out Hope’s shadowy figure beside him. Warmth emanated from her body. He was sweating from exertion. At least they weren’t cold anymore.

He wallowed in physical sensation, living in the moment. Her rapid breathing was music to his ears. She made noises like that when she came, little gasps of pleasure. His pulse thickened at the memory. There was something intimate about being so close to her in the dark. He felt the primal urge to dominate her.

He still resented her for stirring up his protective instincts, and for bringing unwanted emotions to the surface. Kissing her wasn’t the most appropriate punishment he could think of, but the temptation consumed him whenever he was near her. He was keyed up with energy, shaking from the close call.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“No. Are you?”

He was pretty sure his elbows were bloody, but it wasn’t important.

She reached out to touch his face. “Thank you,” she murmured. Leaning over him, she kissed his clenched jaw, his tense mouth.

“Don’t,” he said.

“Why?”

When he didn’t answer, she kissed him again, licking his closed lips.

His control broke. He rolled on top of her and crushed his mouth over hers, forcing his tongue inside. She moaned and kissed him back. Damn her. He shoved her arms above her head, trapping her wrists with one hand. Exerting more pressure with his mouth, he found her torn strap and jerked it down, baring her breasts. When he cupped her roughly, she cried out, her nipple jutting against his sweaty palm.

He stopped kissing her and just hovered near her mouth, brushing his calloused thumb over that pouty nipple. She panted against his lips, little huffs of pleasure. Come noises. Jesus.

His cock swelled at the sound.

He wanted to rip off her clothes and bury himself in her. She’d probably enjoy it. What the hell was wrong with her?

What the hell was wrong with
him?

He’d been cruel to push her away, but leading her on was worse. They already shared a disturbing connection. If he wasn’t careful, his feelings would get involved. Every moment he spent with her, he got more attached.

Maybe, like him, she had deeper reasons for responding to his touch. He’d chosen her that night, but she’d also chosen him. She hadn’t let him fuck her because she was drunk and horny. She’d done it because of the dark similarity between them, the buried pain and tendency toward self-isolation.

He released her with regret. “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“We have to find a way out of here.”

Instead of fishing his lighter out of his pocket, which would be difficult in his current state of arousal, he sat up and studied their surroundings. There was a hole in the ceiling of the cavern that opened directly to the sky. He could hear rain coming through, and see it falling. Maybe the moon would illuminate the interior at some point.

“Down there,” Hope said, jostling his shoulder.

He squinted at the cavern floor, which was easier to make out than the ceiling. A small pair of reflective eyes looked up at them. Then the animal turned and scurried through a space that probably led outside.

“Raccoon?” he asked.

“I think so.”

“Do they live in caves?”

“No.”

Another good sign. It really wasn’t that far down, either. He estimated a fifty-foot drop. Sure, they would have broken their necks if they’d fallen. But if he could find some rock features to work with, a safe descent was possible.

“I have twelve feet of cord,” he said. “My belt will add another four.”

“You’ll have to wait until daylight.”

“Not necessarily. When the moon rises, that might be enough.”

She checked her watch, which glowed in the dark. “It’s almost ten o’clock.”

They settled in to wait, taking sips of water. Eating would only make them thirstier. He shared another piece of gum with her. It was difficult to sit close to her without imagining a thousand more pleasurable ways to kill time.

“My parents are fine with me working as a park ranger,” she said, picking up the thread of their earlier conversation. “They love the outdoors. We visited a lot of national parks when I was a kid.”

“Which ones?”

“Yosemite, Joshua Tree, Zion. The Grand Canyon. One year we went to the Washington Monument.”

“That old eyesore?”

She laughed in agreement. “They were RV campers.”

“My condolences.”

“What were your family vacations like?”

His parents were world travelers who did everything on a grand scale. Their entire life was a vacation. Hope’s summer trips actually sounded nice. Normal. “We went far away, to Africa and Australia.”

“I’d love to go to exotic places.”

“You’ve never been overseas?”

“Faith and I backpacked through Europe one year. It was amazing.”

“What does she think about your job?”

“She thinks I’m a recluse.”

He didn’t say anything.

“I’m not,” she insisted. “I go home on holidays, and I visit her in L.A. I don’t close myself off from the outside world.”

She hadn’t mentioned friends, let alone a boyfriend.

“I might not be partying all night or jet-setting, but I have a life. I stay busy.”

“How?”

“I read, hike, ride my bicycle...”

“All solo activities.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Who do you hike with?”

She was glaring at him. He could tell.

“I’m with Faith,” he said. “You’re a beautiful woman. There’s nothing out here for you but trees and mountains.”

“What’s wrong with trees and mountains?”

“They aren’t human.”

“You realize that you also live here, in the sticks?”

“Ah, but I don’t deny that I’m a recluse. And I know why I’m isolating myself.”

“Why?”

He walked right into that one. “The only single men in the Sierras are tourists. How can you date?”

“I date.”

“Who, the park attendants?”

“Maybe.”

He made a noise of disbelief. Then he remembered her questions about Owen Jackson and fell silent. He didn’t want to picture her with one of his...acquaintances. “When was your last serious relationship?”

“None of your business.”

“Exactly,” he said, just to make her mad.

“You think you’re the only man I’ve slept with?”

“I know I’m not.”

“I dated Doug Dixon,” she said.

He gaped at her shadowy outline. “You’re kidding.”

“No.”

“He’s married.”

“He wasn’t at the time.”

“How long ago?”

“Two years.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“Why?”

“He’s...old.”

“He’s forty. Not much older than you.”

“I’m thirty-two,” he reiterated.

“Age doesn’t matter to me.”

“What about the fact that he’s your
boss?
”

“That’s why we kept it quiet.”

He made a face, shaking his head.

“Are you judging me, really?”

“I’m judging him. A man doesn’t date his own employee on the down-low for no reason. He had a perfect excuse not to take you out in public. You’re young and pretty. Why would you settle for that?”

“Doug was a perfect gentleman,” she said, her voice quavering with anger. “He brought me gifts and served candlelit dinners.”

“If he was so great, why did you two break up?”

“Because I wasn’t in love with him. When he proposed, I said no.”

Sam clenched his hands into fists. Perfect gentleman or not, he hated the idea of Doug touching her.

“You sound kind of jealous.”

He couldn’t deny it.

“Maybe I have bad luck with men,” she said. “Maybe I’m too standoffish or independent. I was definitely lonely, the night I went home with you.”

He closed his eyes, wanting to disappear.

“I’m not going to pretend I didn’t enjoy it.”

“I never said that.”

“You look miserable every time you touch me.”

“That has nothing to do with you.”

“It feels pretty personal.”

“Hope, I told you that my brain is fucked up.” He rubbed his bare wrist, lamenting the loss of his sweatband. “Christ, I have to read my tattoo every morning just to figure out what’s going on.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t remember her death. It happened a few months before the freeway accident. The information is locked away somewhere or lost forever. I wake up, looking for her. I can’t believe she’s gone.”

“Every day?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not getting better?”

“It’s easier to accept now,” he said. In the beginning, he’d been confused, half-conscious, inconsolable for weeks. “I can remember what other people have told me, cumulatively. The shock fades faster than it used to.”

“So, other than a few minutes in the morning, you’re fine. Your brain works normally the rest of the time.”

“Being numb isn’t normal.”

“You’re grieving.”

“Grieving is a process. This is limbo.”

“Maybe you’re afraid to let her go.”

He frowned into the dark, wishing that was the case. It pained him to admit that he wasn’t in love with her anymore. He wanted to let go. His guilt wouldn’t let him. “If I knew what happened, I might be able to move on. But no one will tell me.”

“Why not?”

“The doctors say I have to remember on my own.”

“You don’t know how she died?”

“I know it was a fall, and I was with her.”

“Oh, Sam.”

He gritted his teeth against her sympathy. They said that time healed all wounds, but this one was still raw. “I’ve imagined a thousand scenarios, from minor negligence to blatant disregard for her safety.”

“If you were at fault, could you forgive yourself?”

“I don’t know. I can’t forgive myself unconditionally. And, no matter what happened, I’ll always feel responsible.”

“Because you were her partner?”

He hesitated to say more. “We also got engaged the year before. She wanted to start a family. So did I. She had a bucket list of walls to climb before we settled down. Kalymnos was one of them.”

“That’s where she fell?”

“Yes.”

She was quiet for a moment. “What if you never remember?”

“I might not. It usually happens within three years, and two have already passed.”

“You don’t have a plan?”

“My psychiatrist recommended something called closure therapy. It’s for people whose loved ones are lost or missing.”

“You agreed to go?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged, uncomfortable. While he was recovering from the coma, he’d done his share of therapy. He’d seen more doctors than he could count. None of them knew how to bring his memory back. So he’d returned to climbing. The rock face was the only place he’d ever really belonged. Pushing his physical limits had always felt right. And the sport owed him some solace after taking so much away from him. Maybe he was searching for answers he’d never find, punishing himself for things he hadn’t done.

Free-soloing wasn’t helping any more than therapy had. But he liked it better.

“I haven’t decided yet,” he said.

“You’d rather stay here and avoid the problem?”

“In this cave?”

“In the Sierras.”

“What are
you
avoiding?”

She huffed out a breath. “Not everyone who lives here is running away from their problems. You recommended Owen for a job in the park. Why is it an appropriate place for him to work, but not me?”

“He needed some space.”

Sam had thought that mountains and fresh air would be good for Owen. He also knew the kid wouldn’t bother him. Unlike Garrett Wright, who called to check up on him every few weeks at the request of his wife, Lauren. The female paramedic had saved Sam’s life after the San Diego earthquake. She was relentlessly caring.