Tracing the Stars

by Amanda Richardson

  I want more time.

  I can’t say goodbye in five days. There is so much I want to do with her. I want to take her for deep dish pizza at Lou Malnati’s and watch as she tries her first bite of their famous “Lou” pizza. Even better, it’s vegetarian. I want to take her to my favorite bench on the Gold Coast, overlooking Lake Michigan. I want to visit her in Berkeley. I want to watch the sea lions on the pier in San Francisco. I want to try the authentic Mexican food from Mission Burrito that she’s always yapping about. I want to be there when she gives birth. At this point, I know almost as much as she does about this pregnancy.

  Like it’s my baby, which is absurd.

  I want to lie in the grass at People’s Park in Berkeley as the sunshine beats down on us—making up for lost time. In reality, I’ve never seen the way the sunlight shines off of her hair. And right now, I want nothing more than to bear witness to Emilia under the sun, uninhibited by rules or jobs. I want all of her.

  Every single fucking molecule of her.

  “Don’t take the job,” I say quietly, looking down at my hands as they rest on the bar, palms down. My voice is so low. I almost hope she didn’t hear me. Why did I confess that? I see her stiffen from my peripheral. Sighing, I turn to face her. “I’m just being selfish. Of course you should take the job.”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t have to—I mean, I can find a job anywhere, Leo. But you…” Her hand lands on top of mine. “I want to give this a shot.”

  Watching me shyly, she looks so very deep into my soul that my breathing becomes ragged and all I see is her. Everything else fades away. How did this happen? I mean, I was enamored from the get-go, but now… she is my world. I would do anything—anything—to make her happy.

  I give her a grim smile. “You have to take it. You know that, right?”

  She watches me and pulls her brows together. “I know.”

  As we hop up off of the barstools, I offer to walk her back to her room. When we get to my door, Emilia pauses. When she looks up at me, I want to grab and kiss her. I fight the urge—the deep-rooted longing to protect and care for her—and I open my door without inviting her in.

  “We have five more days,” I say slowly, giving her a morose scowl. “I plan on taking you to bed for days when we get back, so please don’t tempt me tonight,” I sigh, giving her an arrogant grin.

  Her mouth drops open. “Days? Wow,” she murmurs, stepping closer.

  No. Back away, Emilia. Distance is in our favor tonight.

  “Days,” I whisper, feeling my hand reach out and pull her into me. My body—so alive near hers—has a mind of its own. I’ve never felt this kind of pull toward a woman before. I am the match, and she’s the fire. I crave her.

  “Can I come inside?” she asks, knowing full well what she’s doing to me. And I, her. She’s shaking in my arms, trembling, and as I think about how she’ll feel underneath me, on top of me… it’s too much to handle. The heat from my hands on her slides down my arms and swoops into my torso. I dig my fingers into her.

  “No,” I reply, stepping backwards. As my eyes flick to hers, I see her lick her lips and watch me intently. “Because knowing I can’t have you the way I want you will drive me crazy.”

  “But we could…” she trails off. Her eyes widen as she pleads with me.

  What have I done? I’ve turned her into a sex maniac, apparently.

  “That was a one-time thing,” I utter, taking an unsteady step into my room. I hold my hands up in surrender. “I couldn’t watch you do that again without touching you. To be honest, I don’t know how I didn’t lose control the first time. Hearing you make those noises,” I groan, closing my eyes. I’m imagining it all over again for the seven-hundredth time. I adjust my pants, and as her eyes plunge to my hard-on, I begin to close the door. “Goodnight, Emilia,” I growl, needing to get away.

  She pouts and then turns to walk to her room as I smile and close the door.

  Truth be told, had I felt this way in the beginning, I would’ve broken those rules immediately. I would’ve unleashed myself on her all winter, and yeah, perhaps we’d be better for it. But I wanted to follow the rules, wanted to be a good supervisor. A responsible scientist. We had to wait for Jake’s reaction to the baby, too. I was an adult, and adults didn’t give in to lust the way I wanted to. Adults didn’t act on every little whim. So, I stayed away. I pushed the sneaking feelings deep down inside of me, and instead, I was rude and standoffish. It was easier then, when she was just someone I wanted to fuck. A sexy family friend. It was so easy.

  And now?

  I would give anything to go back to those first few days. If I had to do it all over, I would’ve fucked her with no feelings, just so I wouldn’t be so miserable today. I would’ve taken her everywhere—against the wall, in the lab—just to keep these feelings down for a little bit longer. Because you know what they say: when you can’t have something, you want it even more. Six months of banter, secret glances, and fiery touches. Six months of watching her walk around in the lab, furrowing her brows over our weekend numbers. Six months of hearing her shower turn on and off, and wondering what she looked like naked and wet. Six months of pure fucking torture.

  To top it all off, I felt a connection to the baby. I went to every single one of her appointments. I laughed and cried with her, held her when she was scared, made her grilled cheese sandwiches in the middle of the night when she was hungry.

  Who was going to do all of that for her? Who knew that her aversions were pickles, brown rice, and raw tomatoes? That her cravings were ice cream, cheese, and frozen green beans? That she needed a back rub every now and then, because the amniotic sac was sitting close to her sciatic nerve? Who would be there for her like that?

  She’s not just the hot assistant anymore, either. Somehow, somewhere along the way, I started to really care about her. I began imagining a life together, imagining how happy my mother would be when she knew we were a couple. Showing her all of the letters and cards that I saved from when we were kids. I wanted those things with her. I wanted a family with her.

  So, no, it’s not just about the sex anymore. It’s about everything else, everything complicated and messy. Everything I’ve never dealt with before this winter.

  There’s no way in hell I’m breaking the rules five days before we leave. We waited six months, so I’m going to do this the right way. I’m glad it wasn’t a quick romp. She deserves better than that. I want to give her everything—the whole world on a platter. And if it means I have to wait five days?

  So be it.

  T W E N T Y - F O U R

  Emilia

  THE FOUR OF us keep quiet for most of the flight to McMurdo. We’ll have a quick lunch with George before we depart for Christchurch with a few people from other stations. Gretchen and Damien finally admitted their true feelings, and as a tribute to the sickeningly adorable winter they spent together, Damien now sits happily next to his fiancée the entire plane ride. Yes, he proposed to her on our last night at Amundsen-Scott, and now the betrothed are headed back to Colorado together before moving to Boston. Turns out, Gretchen wasn’t willing to give up her career for a man, but Damien was willing to relocate for her. I’m truly happy for them, and Leo can’t stop smiling when he sees them together.

  I laugh when I realize the arrogant prick I met in Christchurch is actually a sap.

  As the plane pivots into McMurdo Airport, the four of us climb down the stairs and greet George. Just six months ago, I walked into that Antarctic air with wide eyes and high hopes. Now, I only feel dread. The winter is over—the grey sky is the biggest indication—and Leo and I have two days in New Zealand before we head home. Bernard Gaitman from Stanford contacted me two days ago, and I submitted my application yesterday. It’s not guaranteed yet, but for now, I have to think like the scientist I am. Even if I don’t get the position, it’s not like I could uproot my life and move to Chicago. I need my mom’s help, and Ana’s pediatric expertise with babies. I know nothin
g about vaccinations, milestones, or even how to hold one. Because as this baby gets bigger, the more worried I become. I only have three months to get everything together. I’ve emailed Ana several times already in a panicked state, wondering about certain things like babyproofing, apartment living with a child, and whether or not my baby needs the chicken pox vaccine.

  In a way, I wish I still hated Leo. My heart is a mess, and my brain isn’t any better off. And my body? It’s like I’ve been electrocuted. I’m on all the time, ready for him at any moment.

  Fuck you, pregnancy hormones. All of my senses are wickedly heightened. I have his words on repeat. I plan on taking you to bed for days when we get back.

  Seven more hours until we’re back.

  I’m dreading the flight, dreading being transported away from the one place I now consider my home. The place I found myself. I cannot wait until he’s officially no longer my supervisor.

  The five of us—George having no idea just how much fun we all had this winter—eat a quick lunch. He doesn’t mention my stomach, so I don’t say anything. In fact, as far as I know, no one down here knows except for Damien, Gretchen, Fiona, and Leo. I prefer to keep it that way.

  I gorge myself on fruits and vegetables. An apple—such a simple thing—has never tasted so good. I decide to go back for seconds and Leo follows me. He grabs an apple and holds it out to me. When I reach for it, he pulls it back.

  “Did you know the apple became a symbol for knowledge? Immortality? Temptation?” He growls the last word.

  My mouth goes dry. “I did know that,” I divulge, grinning. I reach for the apple again, but he holds it from my grip.

  “Imagine a hunger so great, it consumes your every thought—waking and dreaming. This apple,” he murmurs, holding it up to his face and studying it, “is the only thing that will satiate the fervent appetite. How would you eat it, Emilia?”

  I lean against the food counter, my body feeble and my knees weak. “I would savor it,” I mutter, licking my lips.

  He audibly moans as his dark eyes watch me. “As the bible says, when the apple is in the hands of Adam, the apple is the forbidden fruit. How do you think he would eat it?”

  I let out an audible whimper and swallow thickly. The room spins. Holy fuck.

  He answers his own question. “I think he would revel in eating it, one slow lick at a time. Tasting it, touching it… over and over.”

  I mumble something unintelligible.

  Leo cocks a lopsided grin and tosses me the apple. “Get ready to be that apple in six hours, Emilia.”

  And then he walks away, leaving me alone and barely able to function as I take a delicious bite of the forbidden fruit.

  *

  I manage to sleep for most of the plane ride to Christchurch. The bumpy landing jolts me from slumber, and the first thing I see upon opening my eyes is Leo. He’s watching me from the next row over, squished between two other men from McMurdo and looking highly uncomfortable as his eyes meet mine.

  My whole body heats.

  The plane is on the ground in New Zealand, which means, he’s officially no longer my supervisor. Gretchen and Damien rush off of the plane once we taxi to the gate. We’re having a farewell dinner tonight in Christchurch, but since it’s only the afternoon, I have about four hours to kill, and Leo is looking at me like he can’t wait to get me back to the hotel. His dark pupils survey my exposed neck, and the way he subtly licks his lips sends me reeling. The other passengers make their way off of the plane, as do the pilots to stretch their legs. I stand quickly, but Leo stays seated.

  “If you plan on staying here all day, then I guess I won’t be showing you what, exactly, I can do with my tongue,” I tease.

  He groans and stands quickly. “I apologize in advance for what I’m about to do,” he murmurs, wrapping an arm under my knees and hoisting my body up to his chest.

  “Leo! What the hell!” I squirm, trying to get out of his grip. I can’t see where he’s taking me. “My luggage!” I screech, thinking we’re getting off of the plane.

  “We’ll get it when we’re done.”

  Oh.

  All of a sudden, he sets me down between two large crates in the back of the plane. The space is barely big enough for two people, but I have to admit, it’s a fantastic hiding place. The height of the crates hides us from the front and back of the plane.

  “The pilots,” I say, looking around.

  “They’re gone—but the ground crew will be here any minute to unload.”

  “How do you know this?” I ask, moaning as I feel him thrust his hardness against me.

  Jesus Christ on a cracker.

  “I promise, this won’t take long,” he growls.

  Before I have a chance to respond, he brushes his lips against mine—his hot breath fanning my face and causing me to wrap my arms around him. This is happening. It feels so good to give in. My hands shake as I reach out for his belt, but he stops me, taking my hands and intertwining his fingers with mine. The small movement sends electrodes shooting in all directions, down every limb. He pulls away, panting, and reaches into his parka jacket.

  The arrogant bastard pulls out a black, lacey thong. My black, lacey thong from the night I slept with Jake.

  “How did you…” I trail off. I smile and grab it out of his hand. “You’re so gross,” I laugh, taking the underwear and stuffing them into my pocket. “Did you keep these all winter?”

  He just shrugs and smiles. “I happened to find them in Jake’s hotel bed that night when I was tidying up.”

  “But—”

  He reaches out and cups my mouth with his hand. “I don’t want to talk about that night. It should’ve been me.”

  I nod vigorously. “It should’ve been you,” I mumble into his hand. He releases me, and his eyes travel from my face to my chest and back up again. I’m burning.

  “I want you to forget what it felt like with Jake,” Leo says slowly.

  Before I can respond, he pulls me to him, rough yet gentle, and kisses me again. My heart speeds up, and I inhale his scent. He smells like the fucking forest. His arms wrap around my waist, and I push him against the crate and slide my hands up his shirt. My fingernails dig into the sensitive skin below his belly button. A masculine grumble comes from somewhere in his throat, and then he bites my lower lip in response. My stomach bottoms out.

  His hands travel lower, cupping my ass. His tongue digs deep and then slides across my lower lip, sending delightful waves of fiery heat straight between my legs. Breaking away, I quickly undo his belt and then I pull my boots and pants off. I shed my parka, so I’m only wearing underwear and a sweater.

  “Don’t hold back,” I rasp, my voice husky I give him a playful smile. His pupils darken, and he licks his lips a few times, but he remains leaning against the opposite crate despite looking like he wants to ravage me at any second.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says, stepping closer, cupping my face, and bringing his lips to mine. “Why did we wait to do this?” he says into my mouth. His words make me flush. I crane my neck and stand on my tippy toes, kissing him slowly, deeply. We disconnect, and he takes his cock out of his pants, watching me raptly the entire time. I can’t peel my eyes away from him.

  Suddenly, he pushes himself against me and picks me up. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he whispers into my ear.

  “I don’t have a condom,” he says, his mouth pulled to the side in a lopsided grin.

  “You’re about six months too late,” I mutter.

  “Unfortunately,” he murmurs.

  “I’m clean, if you’re wondering. Dr. Yang tested me. Because your best friend is a man whore.”

  He smiles as he pushes me back into the crate tenderly. “I’m clean, too.” His green eyes are hooded with desire. I need this. I want to drown in him—I want this moment to count. I’ve been waiting too long.

  Again, he surprises me, because instead of entering me, he moves his palm down my small bump and agains
t my underwear, sliding two fingers in. We both groan in sync. I arch my back as he pulls his fingers out excruciatingly slowly, and then slides them back in, curving them ever so slightly. I whimper and collapse against him.

  “Do you like that?” he murmurs, his breath hot on my neck. I immediately turn to jelly. I don’t say anything—I just make some kind of primitive guttural sound, too overwhelmed to speak. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  I’ve been waiting for him to touch me for six months. To say it feels good would be an understatement. I have to grip his shirt so I don’t flop over.

  He positions himself so that he can widen my legs with his, and the feeling of his fingers inside of me, finally, in such a public space… I cry out as he quickens his tempo. My whole body tightens. The room begins to spin, and I feel my orgasm coil deep inside of me. He knows I’m close, too, because soon be works his hand faster, harder. I groan loudly, a bolt of heat sizzling up my spine and down my legs, making me shake. Before I have a chance to recover, he’s standing over me, chuckling.

  And then he moves my underwear to the side and enters me.

  He fills me, slowly at first and then so satisfyingly fast. He has an arm underneath me to hold me up, and our skin is already hot and sweaty. I feel my nipples harden as his chest brushes against them, the unlikely stimulation feeling very welcoming. I kiss him, my eyes closed, and he bites my lip. The longing pours into every limb, and I move my hand to help myself out.

  “Let me,” he says gruffly, gently rubbing me with the pad of his thumb.

  “Yes,” I whisper, and it’s barely audible. The feeling he’s evoking in me renders me speechless. I’m full and he’s moving his fingers in circles and suddenly I can’t think straight. It’s too intense, and my legs start to shake again.

  “I’m going to watch you come with me inside of you,” he growls, his face sweaty and determined. The fact that it’s Leo’s face, unwavering in his desire to give me as many orgasms as possible, sends me over the edge. All I see are his yellow-green eyes, so much darker than usual as he thrusts into me. I dig my nails into him as I throw my head back and cry out, the orgasm ripping through me.