The Fall Before Flight

by L. M. Halloran

  “Truth or dare, Leo?”

  His head snaps down. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  A pause, then a whisper of, “Don’t do this.”

  I’m a horrible person. A slave to impulse. A user and a breaker, and he’s the ultimate prize. There’s a high chance that if I push this—push him until he shatters—he’ll never forgive me. Or himself. Then again, it’s not like we have a future together. And he’s leaving in four days.

  What to do… What to do… New, healthy Amelia? Or old, impulsive Amelia?

  Four days.

  My chest tightens at the thought of never seeing him again. I can’t do it—I can’t not. So I end up answering the question for him. For both of us.

  “Dare.”

  I push from the rock and stand. Water sluices from my chest, my wet hair. Cool air tightens my nipples and lifts goose bumps. But none of those sensations compare to what I feel when I see the look on Leo’s face.

  Agony.

  The proof of his desire brings such relief my knees almost buckle. I take a weak step forward, then another. There’s a slight slope to where he sits, and the water drops below my navel. His gaze restlessly scans every moonlit inch of me that’s revealed. Fierce need tightens his features, echoed by bunched shoulders and hands that I know are coiled into fists beneath the water.

  “I didn’t imagine it,” I whisper.

  “No, you didn’t,” he says hoarsely, like the admittance is painful. I’m certain it is, but I can’t process how fucked up this is because my joy is so immense.

  I take another step, every second stretching to a hundred as I capture every detail. The rapid rise and fall of his chest. Clenched jaw. Sweat beading on his brow. Lowered brows over eyes that look silver in the moonlight. Warm breeze, cool air, hot water, pulse fluttering and swollen between my legs. I vow to remember this forever.

  On my last step, my thighs brush against his knees. Two seconds pass—an eternity—before his legs slowly part. One more surrender, one more crack. I stay where I am and lift a hand to his face, dancing my fingers down his jaw to his mouth. His lips part and my index finger slides inside. He sucks the tip, then bites it.

  I almost collapse again.

  “Leo,” I whimper.

  He shatters.

  His hands find my hips, yanking me forward. My knees are wrenched apart, then my ass claimed as he pulls me atop him. My senses fragment, overcome. Hot skin slick against mine, his fingers tangled in my hair. A hiss from his lips as I rub against him, teasing us both. Thick. Hard. Long.

  I bite his neck, then lick his earlobe and murmur, “How can something that feels so good be wrong?”

  His teeth find my shoulder, clamping hard enough that I jerk. Pain pushes my pleasure higher. I’m so close to climaxing, it would be funny under different circumstances.

  “Maybe it’s good because it’s wrong,” he whispers against my skin. “Maybe you’ve rubbed off on me.”

  “You don’t believe that.”

  His hand, anchored in my hair, drags my head back until he can look me in the eyes. Our faces are so close I feel his breath on my lips, which tingle in anticipation of tasting him again.

  “Tell me the truth,” I plead mindlessly.

  His fingers tighten, spreading fiery sensation through my scalp. “The truth? Fine. I’ve wanted you from the first moment I saw you. Damn you, Amelia. Damn your sarcasm, your lies, your eyes that tell me more than your mouth ever has, your scent that drives me crazy, and your beautiful, wounded heart. You’re goddamn perfect and I’m going straight to hell.”

  And he kisses me.

  23

  rise and shine

  day 18-19

  I know the world is still turning, that the moon will eventually set and this night will end. It will then be a dream in truth—scattered impressions, stolen time too perfect to be real. And never to happen again.

  But none of that matters when Leo’s lips meet mine. However lurid my imagination has been where he’s concerned, I missed the mark by a long shot. Beneath his suits and control and cutting intellect, he’s a fucking animal. But so am I.

  When he pulls my hair, I pull his back. When he bites my nipples, I dig my nails into his arms. And when in the flurry of our movements the head of his cock comes against my entrance, I grab its thick base and impale myself inch by torturous inch.

  He groans, long and low, when he reaches the end of me. I sit utterly still, panting and wincing in discomfort. I’m not even sure he’s all the way in, but I sure as hell hope so.

  “Um… just give me a sec—”

  Leo flexes his hips. My body catches fire, every nerve ending exploding into sparks.

  “Oh God, Leo—”

  One hand anchoring my hip, he growls, “This is what you wanted, so take it.”

  I almost come from those words alone, and again when he thrusts hard enough I see stars. I’m so wet for him the water around us doesn’t matter, and finally, on his third thrust, my body adjusts and the pain fades.

  “You feel perfect,” he murmurs. “So fucking hot and tight. Better than I ever imagined.”

  Completely out of my mind and body, I moan like a harlot. I’ve never been with a man as depraved as me, and the realization of who I’m with—and that he’ll never be mine—almost ruins the best sex of my life.

  Leo Chastain is a filthy fucking unicorn. I’m never going to get past this, past him. This is a huge mistake.

  All thought is swept away as he finds a devastating rhythm and claims my mouth again, his tongue sweeping deep. He kisses me like he owns me, like he’ll never get enough. We slide against the smooth edge of the pool, his powerful legs doing all the work. Wrecking me. Unraveling me.

  My orgasm unfolds slowly. Deceptively mild tremors that build, and build, until he has to cover my mouth to stifle my cries. My nails dig deep into his shoulders, a litany of his name pouring against his fingers. Instead of speeding up like most men would do, he slows and lets me grind against him.

  “Take it,” he demands. “Let me see you move.”

  So I do, riding him in tight little circles, my clit finding the perfect pressure against his pelvis. I own my pleasure, let go of my inhibitions—not that I have many—and give up any and all notion of guarding my heart where this man is concerned. Frankly, right now I don’t give a shit.

  He’s at least eight inches deep, a dirty-talking, hair-pulling fiend wrapped up in a suit-wearing, control-freak package. I’m ruined for life.

  But what a sweet way to go out.

  I climax on a soundless scream as he whispers in my ear how much he wishes I were riding his face. That he can feel me gripping him like a vise, that right now my pussy belongs to him. As I come down, transitioning to a boneless sack of sweat and endorphins in his arms, he licks sweat from my neck then nuzzles my skin. Our arms locked tightly around each other, our hearts pound out the same fast and furious rhythm. I imagine them trying to break apart from our bodies and join.

  I eventually realize he’s still hard as a rock inside me.

  “Leo?” I whisper, wiggling a little.

  His head lifts, a lazy yet savage smile on his face. “Did you think we were done? I’m just getting started.” The smile falls as his thumb brushes my lower lip. “I’ll have to go easy on you. Your mouth is already swollen, and I don’t think we can swing a bee-sting explanation.”

  I shake my head quickly, pressing fingers into his lips. “Don’t. I mean, okay, go easy on the kissing, but don’t talk about… it. There’s nothing to talk about. We’re on the same page.”

  “And what page is that?” he asks, an eyebrow cocked.

  “Don’t make me say it. Please, let me dream as long as I can before I wake up.”

  His eyes roam my face. Finally, there’s an infinitesimal shift in his expression. “Tonight, then.” He brushes a soft kiss over my lips. “But I promise you’re going to feel me for weeks.”

  Grateful to have skirted the topic of our ine
vitable implosion, I swirl my hips lazily. “I don’t know if I believe you.”

  Strong fingers spread my ass, and his thumb presses proprietarily against a spot no man has gone before. I jerk forward with a squeal.

  Leo’s smile is pure wickedness. Does he relent? Not in the least. And by the time we return to camp hours later—me first, him forty minutes behind me—every hole on my body has taken him in one way or another.

  I have a new hole, too. Wide enough for a 747, straight through my heart.

  The moon is setting when I finally hear Leo return to camp. I wonder if the lust has worn off enough that he’s panicking over all the ways we could be discovered.

  I wonder if I care.

  Rolling onto my side, I almost scream when I see Tiffany’s eyes open and watching me. When my heart stops trying to break my rib cage, I exhale slowly.

  “Didn’t mean to wake you,” I whisper. “Needed to pee.”

  She blinks, calm and alarmingly alert. “Did you forget my issues with insomnia?”

  If I didn’t have twenty years of practice lying, I might start sobbing. Instead, I cock an eyebrow. “Fine, so I went for a walk. What are you, the tent police?”

  “You don’t have to do that, Mia,” she whispers back. “Besides, your hair is wet and you stink of sulfur. It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone. I think it’s awesome, actually. You and Doc are like Romeo and Juliet.”

  Oh, Fucking, Hell.

  I circle the Truth Drain one last time. “Nothing happened. Yes, I followed him, found him in the hot springs. Tried to put the moves on him. Failed. Did you really think the unimpeachable Dr. Chastain would risk his career for some crazy pussy?”

  She rolls her eyes. “The better question is, do I think he’s hopelessly attracted to you in a weirdly intense and tragic way? Why, yes, I do.”

  I stare at her until my eyes water. Blinking, I rasp, “Thank you for not saying anything. But I don’t want to talk about it. Not now, not tomorrow, not ever. I’m keeping this secret until the grave. If you have any respect for him at all, you will too.”

  “Of course I will,” she hisses with affront. “I’d never betray either of you.”

  Sensing her sincerity, my expression softens. “Thanks.”

  I roll over to stare at the wall of the tent and try my damnedest to think about something other than our last, lingering kiss, and the fact it tasted so bitterly of goodbye.

  “Even Romeo and Juliet are together at the end,” whispers Tiffany.

  I bite my tongue.

  24

  thunderstorms

  day 19

  Tiffany and Kinsey are gone when I finally wake up to a hot, bright tent and the sounds of clanking poles, scuffing shoes, and low voices. Yawning, I sit up and rub my eyes, then unzip the door and peer outside.

  What I see doesn’t make any sense. Callum and Declan are breaking down the other two tents, talking and laughing. Frank is crouched by the fire pit raking sand over the embers. I look around for Tiffany, Preston, and Kinsey, and finally spot them walking back from the direction of the hot springs. My embarrassment lasts only a second before memories of last night hijack my mind and body.

  Covering my face with my hands, I try to shake the visions away. My legs over his shoulders, his mouth ravenous between them. All his slick, hard heat punching the back of my throat. His finger claiming my ass, heightening our pleasure as he propped me against the rocks and rode me from behind.

  How at the end, he helped me get dressed with gentle hands, saying nothing, then gave me a slow, lingering kiss and sent me back to camp.

  “You feeling okay?” asks Callum. “Tiffany said we needed to let you sleep because you were up all night. You’re not sick, are you?”

  My fingers part, exposing one eye. “Just had trouble sleeping,” I mumble. “Why are we packing up? I thought we were staying two nights.”

  Callum’s brows go up. “You must have been really out of it to not hear anything this morning.”

  Panic rising, my numb hands drop to my lap. “What are you talking about?”

  Callum rakes a hand through his hair. “A jeep came out and picked Dr. C up just after dawn. No idea what happened. Frank doesn’t know either. We’re all worried it’s his family or something. Declan said when he woke up Doc was on the satellite phone.” He sighs heavily. “I don’t think he’s coming back, Mia.”

  White noise roars in my ears. “What do you mean, not coming back?”

  “Declan overheard him saying something about Dr. Reynolds starting immediately.” He gazes toward the horizon. “Shit, I really hope his kid is okay.”

  So do I.

  But there’s an insidious voice inside me that won’t shut up, and it’s convinced there’s nothing wrong with Leo’s son. Nothing at all. What’s wrong is what we did. Who he let me see. What he offered and what I gave in return.

  The only thing wrong is me.

  Oasis finally comes into view, all the glass shimmering like a mirage in the afternoon sun. I don’t remember the hike except for Tiffany forcing me to drink water from her canteen a few times. I don’t feel the heat, don’t feel the blister on my right heel. Don’t feel resentful, confused, afraid, or crazy.

  If there’s anything floating through the white haze of my mind, it’s resignation. Acceptance. Thanks to Leo Chastain, I’ve lost the ability to lie to myself. I shattered him—just like I wanted to—and it doesn’t feel good at all.

  I was wrong in worrying he’d blame me. I know that now. When Leo snapped out of his moonlight-induced madness, he likely choked on shame and self-loathing. No doubt he’s taking 100 percent of the blame onto himself. It’s who he is. I’d expect nothing else from a man who carries around guilt for his brother’s suicide—which he had absolutely nothing to do with and no control over.

  In his mind, he broke the most sacred rule in his book. He lost his precious control and jeopardized not only his career but my treatment.

  Truth tastes like ash on my tongue.

  It’s my fault.

  I did this to him.

  “Hey, space-cadet.”

  I look at Declan, whose silent presence has been beside me for a while. “Yeah?”

  “Whatever you’re thinking, it can’t be that bad.”

  A spike of misplaced anger shoots through me. “Just because we fucked a thousand years ago doesn’t mean you know me.”

  Shock drops his mouth. “Whoa, what the hell? I was just being nice.”

  “Fuck, I’m sorry.” Fatigue and hunger whiten my vision momentarily. “I don’t feel that good.”

  “Want me to take your bag?” he asks.

  We’re close enough to Oasis now that I can see the single figure standing just inside the open front doors. He turns fast and disappears, but I know it’s him.

  I unsling the duffel from my back, then shimmy out of my backpack. “Yes, actually. Can you drop my bag at my cabin?”

  Looking confused and concerned, Declan nods and grabs the bags. My body feels immediately lighter. Faster.

  Fast.

  I take off running, ignoring the shouts behind me. Closer… closer. My sneakers hit the asphalt driveway, but I don’t slow. Not on the stairs, which I take in one leap. Not when the sudden shade and cool air of the facility shocks my system. The Fish Tank is empty now, but I know where he is.

  I don’t stop running until I’m at his door. Don’t knock before I wrench it open.

  “Leo—” His name stutters and dies in my throat.

  A woman sits behind the desk. Leo turns slowly from the wall where he’s removing the frames with his credentials. His eyes meet mine blankly, then veer to the woman.

  “Gretchen, meet Amelia Sloan.”

  Neither comment on the fact I’m panting, drenched in sweat, and covered in dirt from my run.

  “Are you all right, dear?” asks Gretchen.

  Dr. Reynolds, my new therapist.

  It takes three tries for me to find my voice. “Yes, um… I heard you were leaving
, Dr. Chastain, and wanted to say goodbye. I hope everything’s okay at home?”

  He nods. Distant. Professional. “Thank you. Everything’s fine. My son had a severe asthma attack and was taken to the hospital, but he’s okay now. Since Dr. Reynolds was arriving today anyway, I’m going to leave a few days early.”

  I shouldn’t know he’s lying, but I do. This man has never lied to me. Not once. Until this moment. I stare at him, waiting for him to look at me. But he doesn’t.

  My choices are clear: make a scene, or act like a mature woman who cares about other people, especially him, and doesn’t want him to suffer. The way Dr. Reynolds is looking at me—with sympathy and compassion—makes me want to vomit. She clearly thinks I’m wigging out because I’m some wacko in love with my therapist.

  She’s right, but still… fuck her and her sympathy.

  I swallow past a dry throat. “Okay. Well, take care. Thank you for everything.” I stammer on the last word. To my horror, tears fill my eyes. Waving at the man who isn’t even looking at me, I blurt, “Have a safe trip!”

  I hightail it out of there, my sneakers squeaking rapidly over tile. I make it out the back door and as far as the pool. Without a second thought, I jump. Cool water takes me into its embrace, flowing around me, above me, inside me. It dulls the jagged edges of my pain.

  Leo regrets what happened. I don’t. He’s running from the shame of it. I’m content to relive it in dreams for years to come. He surrendered to physical desire.

  I surrendered my heart.

  Does losing Leo hurt worse than the revelation of losing my child? Oddly, it doesn’t. At least not in the same way. After all, you can’t lose something you never truly had.

  25

  step to the edge

  day 22

  Tuesday. 10:25 a.m. Eight more days of this place, then I’ll be free to live my life. I don’t know what that looks like yet, but I do know that whatever direction I go, it’s a different trajectory than it was twenty-one days ago. So that’s something, I guess.