The Path to James (12 page)

He carries us up and rests me on the ground. I don't have long to find my bearings before he is walking me back, pinning me against the nearest wall. I barely register the waves of the waterfall over the roar of blood pumping through my heart.

The wall halts my retreat. The stone is cold against my back. We both drip water, leaving a fluid trail from our current location back to the pool. James' breath on my neck sends my entire body quivering.

“Handsome stranger,” I whisper against his ear, “what do you want from me?”

“Do not run from me,” James deliberately misinterprets the intentions behind my question. Something about my game in the pool had unsettled him.

I wrap my arms around his muscled back, he seems bothered. “Would you chase me?”

“If you would allow it,” he nuzzles my neck.

His reply soothes me. He is making it clear he wouldn't pursue me if I didn't want him. Unlike Jaren, I can sense he is incapable of stalking me against my will, striking fear into me in hopes that I would falter under threat of harm. If I tried to leave he wouldn't stop me. If I told him not to contact me, he wouldn't. He wants me to want him.

There is something safe about being in James' arms. It is a comfort that I have never sensed before, not in the arms of any other lover. There is something hard and unyielding about him, but I think for me he softens.

I step into him, my arms coming up to wrap around his neck. He feels better than any dream. His mouth finds mine and I slip into his grasp. His hands come down to my ass and he pulls me up. My legs come around to hold onto his waist. I'm already so wet, so ready for him. I feel like today has been one arousing ride after another.

Leaning my back against the wall, my legs around his waist, and one arm for support under my ass, his free hand comes up to circle around my clit. He is a master at this. Light enough not to be too intense, firm enough not to be too reserved. He has me panting within moments.

“What do you want from me?” I gasp through moans.

His free hand is relentless, his fingers dip into me as his palm continues to rub the mass of sensual nerves above my sex.

“May I make love to you again?” James rests his forehead against mine. I can feel his throbbing penis tucked underneath me, waiting patiently for his turn.

“Such a gentleman,” I rasp. His fingers are divine, but his awaiting erection is better, “I would love that.”

He growls as he repositions me within his arms. I never touch the ground. His powerful hold never waivers. His taut legs support me with no outward sign of strain.

He bundles me to him and begins carrying me out of the room, back through the hall and up the stairs. Turning on and off lights as we go. On the main floor he opens a linen closet, all while holding me to him with one arm. I feel so delicate in his embrace.

He bends slightly to grab a condom from the box stashed in a closet. He comes back up, putting the foil package between his teeth to free up his hand once more. He shuts the door and continues onward. He looks at me ravenously with the rapper between his teeth, he looks adorable, almost like a puppy—fetching toys for me.

We stop in the kitchen, James resting my bare ass on the kitchen island to hand over the condom, out of his mouth and into my hands. He knows how I like to put them on for him. I take the package and rip it with my teeth. Staring at him as I break the seal. I have never felt so wanted. I have never wanted someone so much. I run my fingers down, then up his erection, wrapping my hand around him. Smooth stone. I unroll the condom over him and that is all the invitation James needs.

He pries my thighs apart right there, right on the counter. I fall back onto my elbows and he slides into me. He fills me with his heat—with his throbbing, succulent penis—and I find myself exclaiming with the intense thrill of him filling me to the hilt.

He slides out only to ram back into me. His cock glides against just the right spots. So unyielding, so perfect. I grip the edge of the counter to remain steady.

James holds under my knees. He is panting over me with every thrust. His eyes are soft, his look yearning. I'm so close to an orgasm. I want to give him more than just tonight—I want to give him forever.

My core tightens exquisitely. Everything tenses and I throw my head back with an extended cry. I explode around his erection as he continues his relentless penetration. Waves continue to crash over me. The walls of my vagina choke James' penis, milking him as the walls constrict with my orgasm.

James growls as he finds his own release. Slipping in and then out of me, finishing with gritted teeth as I lay enraptured upon his table. When he is finished, he bends over me. His elbows support him as he kisses my chest, right between my breasts, directly on my sternum. “You unravel me.”

“The feeling is mutual,” I kiss the crown of his head. How I could have been so lucky as to find him. If I had been any earlier or any later, if I had strayed from my path in any way, I would have missed him entirely. This dream would have been lost to me.

“I am glad I found you,” he says as if reading my thoughts.

Our panting slows, our needs are sated. I'm left with only the uneasy feeling of what tomorrow will bring.

Chapter 16

Time is against me. As I clutch Alex closer to my chest, I can feel her slipping farther and farther from my grasp. Today has been the best day of my haunted life. Holding Alex with hands covered in proverbial blood, she makes me feel good again. Her purity cleanses me.

Laying in my bed, the moon slips from one side of the sky to the other, cold and unkind. The stars care nothing for my plight. I stare off with bleak thoughts that match my bleak exterior. I know better than to relax and close my eyes. I know better than to allow my mind to drift away. But the curve of Alex's body is so warm and so inviting. Her scent is comforting. Her innocence and compassion, they make me feel whole.

I fall asleep with the fantasy of a fresh start. I dream of discarding the sins of my past to don an unencumbered future with my woodland goddess. She is pure and sweet. Beautiful and intelligent. She is everything I have ever wanted. And with these perfect thoughts of golden beginnings, I sink into oblivion.

Chapter 17

Like most true hikers, I wake before the sun. I rouse from my sleep only to find myself cradled within James' embrace. He is fast asleep, but even unconscious he manages to utilize his body as dead weight to pin me to his mattress. Effectively imprisoning me—my perfect, naked restraints.

When I move to leave, his arms reflexively tighten, pulling me to him, then release. Even subconsciously he wants me, but is willing to set me free.

I gift him with a feather-light kiss on the corner of his lips. I don't want to leave, but I know what future a relationship holds. He will find me sweet and engrossing. I will find him witty, affable, utterly perfect. And then, as our endorphins and oxytocin peter out to tolerable levels, his disinterest will inevitably ensue, followed by my despondence at having lost the dreams and future that I had been craving.

I slip out from under his muscled arm. He is still fully naked. By leaving, I solidify the perfection that was yesterday. I scoot to the edge of his bed and allow my legs to dangle off of the side. I hate the feeling that I am missing something.

I get up from his bed and shuffle across the floor. I can see well enough in the moonlight to find my way without bumping into anything. I lean a hand against the railing as I walk down his walkway, toward the stairs.

Down the stairs, in the kitchen, I find my pack waiting for me. The backpack smells like sleeping in the dirt and meager snacks to pass as meals. I pick it up and sling it over one shoulder—it feels like the key to my freedom and the means to reach all of my dreams.

I stop again, feeling as though I'm missing something.
What if I could have it all? What if I could take my freedom and have James in the process?
I drop my pack back onto the ground.

I have an idea.

Reaching into the long pocket I pull out a pen and my map. I unfurl the paper onto his kitchen island, the same space I'd made love to James hours before. Taking my pen I map out my path. Using the light from my cell phone, I mark Three Island Crossing, Niagara Springs, Shoshone Falls.

Down to Bear Lake. Entering Wyoming I'll find Bridger National Forest, Medicine Bow, and leave from there into Nebraska.

Nebraska, Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, New York. And after all this, if I still crave more, if my wanderlust has not yet been sated, I will sweep back in a lower arc, hitting the states that I missed and ending back on the west coast in Southern California.

I'll type out my articles in my motel rooms, scrawl notes on the trail, write by flashlight in my tent. Publish them on my blog, on travel forums, on state websites. I am making this happen.

Over every landmark and national park, I write an approximate date above it. If I know the hotel I'm staying, I mark it down. When I'm finished, I write “If lost please call,” followed by my phone number. At the top of the map, I scrawl a simple question.

Before I forget I reach back into my bag and pull a bruised apple from the rest of the bundle. I rest it on the map, as payment for safe passage.

Pleased with myself, I grab my pack from the floor and pull it onto my shoulder. Like a true hiker, I'll head out before dawn to greet the day on the trail.

I walk to the French doors leading into James' backyard. I can't help looking back as I open the door and step into the doorway. Even in the dark his home is inviting. It's hard to leave knowing he is sleeping peacefully upstairs, but the crisp morning air pulls at me. The crickets call me to the wilderness.

I am supposed to travel. I am meant to wander. I can't stay.

Taking a deep breath, I step out into the cool morning. The grass crunches under my feet, the moon makes way for the coming sun. The trees wave in the breeze and I don't look back again as James' home dissolves behind me.

***

When I wake the sun is glaring into my windows. The air is stagnant, my bed is empty. I sit up, “Alex?”

There is no reply.

I jump out of my bed, fully naked. “Alex?”

Nothing.

“Shit,” I grab for my pants and head over to my balcony. Like my dreams, Alex has dissipated in the dawn.

I throw the door to my balcony open and step out into the morning. The sun has warmed the earth, the songbirds sing their melodies, the breeze ruffles my bed-tussled hair. Somewhere out there she is wandering my woods, but I can't spot her from here.

She is gone.

It would be impossible to spot her in the ocean of trees. I reluctantly force myself back inside. There is no point in staring out into the forest like a lost puppy. If she had wanted me, she would have stayed. She would have at least said goodbye.

I frown. My bright future has darkened once more. Why change what I am if I have nothing to be better for?

I pull on a shirt and head for the second floor walkway. Every step is now a painful reminder of making love to Alex, of pulling her over my shoulder and carrying her off to my bed, to my pool, to the climbing wall. I hadn't been enough to hold her interest. I hadn't been enough to convince her to stay. I can't blame her for that.

I descend my stairs. My seductress had been so unexpected. She'd materialized from my woods to alter my world forever. She destroyed my contented solitude and then simply left as soon as she'd finished. Though I'm grateful for the memories, my stomach sinks at the possibility of never seeing her again.

I walk into my kitchen where the kiss of pizza and the scent of her hair lingers in the air. I close my eyes at the memory of taking her atop my counter. I open my eyes and see the apple on the kitchen island. Ripe. Golden. Its skin is bruised from bouncing around in Alex's pack. I pick it up and bite into its skin without thinking.

The fruit is initially sour with a burst of sweet. When I look back down, I see the map that Alex had been holding when I had first seen her. There are little X's bowing from west to east, from Oregon to New York. I look at the dates above all of her X's. I notice the number—her phone number—she had scrawled for me at the bottom.

Flattening the map over the counter, smoothing out the creases, I find the one sentence she had written in her fluid script. I think back to the pool, of swimming after her only to emerge from the water with her nowhere to be found. I think of her one tantalizing question. My hand trails over her writing.

The words “Will you chase me?” are caressed under my thumb.

Reading that one perfect question over and over, I already know the answer. It's exactly what I had given her yesterday. My response remains the same—

“Always.”

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