by Lia Riley
“You and me.” She takes a deep breath through her nose. “Are you sure you’re okay? Did you eat? Were you cold? Was it dangerous?”
“I am now. A little. Yes. Yeah.”
She runs her hands down my arms. “I’ll never be able to stop touching you. I was so scared.”
“I need to ask you something,” I whisper against her skin. Can she feel my heart pick up speed?
“No.”
“No?”
She shakes her head. “Tell me all the things, but only after you prove that you are real. Love me. Please. Just love me.”
I jerk when she skims my shaft through my shorts. My body registers the action before my tapped out brain does. “I don’t have any protection. My bag is below.”
“I do.” She scrambles to standing and helps me up. “Jesus. Your fingers.”
“I had to climb.”
“Bran!” She presses my hands to her heart. “God, these look so sore.”
I cup her breasts and groan at the rich, heavy weight against my palms. “This makes them feel better.”
“Come.” She takes gentle hold of my hand and pulls me toward a deep rocky overhang. There is her backpack and sleeping bag. “See, I made a little camp.”
Pride grips me. “You did good, Captain. Exactly what you should have done. I’m so bloody proud of you.” Emotion roughs up my voice. “Thank you for staying alive. Fucking hell, knowing you were up here, alone.” My hold on her turns more like a clutch.
“Well, I wasn’t that brave. I almost died from at least five different heart attacks.” She kisses the side of my neck, smoothing my hair. “I had to trust you’d come back.”
“I’m so sorry, you were left alone in the dark.”
“Not so alone,” she whispers. Her dark brown eyes hold mine, calm and steady—full of faith.
I start to ask, but she tugs my shirt up my waist. I fist it over my head and discard it on the rocky ground. The cool dawn air licks my skin, and I roll my bunched shoulders. She pulls off her own tank top, exposes her pink sports bra. Behind her are nothing but mountains. Getting naked outdoors, something about the action is primal, as if millennia of instinct coalesce, generations of ancestors who coupled under the sky. I step forward and her stomach hollows from the deep breath. She dreamily raises her arms as I pull her bra free. Her breasts, unbound, hang sweet. I dip, dragging my lower lip over the soft swell.
“Bran.” Her voice is ragged. I cover her nipple with the flat of my tongue. It hardens into an adorable button that I flick, enjoying every hiss of breath she utters in response.
“Don’t want this one to feel lonely.” I move to the other side and repeat the action.
Her laugh is slow, woozy. When she rocks her head back, that lovely arch of her neck demands my full attention. I hunt out the sensitive spot beneath her ear, and hold her hips steady as her legs give way. I dip her backward. “I got you.”
“I know.” Her eyes close.
I turn my head and rest my cheek for a moment on the place above her heart. The vital pulse grounds me. I ease her down onto the sleeping bag and crawl on top of her.
“Am I squishing you?”
She tugs me closer. “The exact perfect amount.”
“You slept here?”
“I wouldn’t really call it sleep.” She rests a hand on my cheek. “I worried.”
“Bloody oath.” I shake my head, not wanting to relive those hours. “So did I.”
“Were you in danger?”
I think back to the cliff face. “A little.”
“A little, like the amount for normal people? Or for you?”
I nuzzle her cheek. “All I thought about was getting back to you.”
She hauls herself on to her elbows, rubs her nose against mine. “My job was easy. Wait and trust.”
“That sounds hard.”
“It was,” she says, quietly. “I almost couldn’t do it.”
“I don’t deserve your trust. Maybe this hike was a stupid idea.”
“I might have expressed the same sentiment, in slightly stronger terms, about a million and twenty-five times last night.”
I cup the back of her head. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“You know what? Someday this will be something we laugh about.”
“Will we?”
She smiles. “Yeah. I think we really will.”
It’s short work to get naked, grab a condom from her bag, but once we’re ready, all I want is slow. Her breathy moan washes over me like a sweet wave. I want to float in this space forever.
“I like that sound, sweetheart.” I cover her with every square inch of my body.
She makes it again. “That one?”
“Those little sighs do things to me.” I grind my hips slow against hers. She returns the pressure. Her hair spreads around her like a wild golden river, bursting the banks. I trace the dip in her waist, the swell of her hips. Our breath comes faster. I’m not inside. But the friction starts a slow build. Her breasts press against my chest and it’s impossible to restrain a shudder. I take a deep breath. She smells of earth, sunscreen, and her shampoo—tangerine and basil.
She slides her hand to the sides of my lower belly. “I adore these muscles.” She opens her legs another inch.
I’m incapable of coherent speech. She’s so wet that my dick slides in of its own accord. I hold back, rock shallow, teasing us both.
She clasps my ass. “In me.”
“Talia.” I’m there. A wave strike. A burning moon. Kiss by kiss we go deeper into infinity. Two bodies, a single sweetness. Our cries bounce off stone. My every touch is a question, and she gives all the answers.
* * *
“You really are a man of many skills,” Talia says, watching intently as I finish boiling the water on the camp stove for coffee.
“I’m just practical.”
“A hot breakfast will help us face the day?”
“Keeping you well caffeinated is my top priority.”
She giggles, reaching as I hand her a mug. “I love how well you know me.”
We’re packed and ready to go, but I wanted to make our reunion last a little longer. We’ve shared so many moments, special seconds that bordered on perfect. Here, sitting beside her, hip to hip, as we quietly watch the morning sun cast shadows on the canyon walls, and sip coffee is another for the list.
After breakfast, it’s a short hike back to where I’d only just come from. Talia stands on the edge of the cliff, her hand locked in mine. Below is a turquoise pool. My bag is off to one side. So are my boots.
“You climbed this cliff barefoot?”
“Yeah.” And a few before that.
“And this is the only way down?”
I read about this section online before we left. “We could use ropes, but the jump is easier. The on-foot route through this section isn’t passable because of the rain; there’s a temporary waterfall in effect over the path.”
“Cliff jumping? I’m not sure if I can really do this.”
I read about this pool in the trail guide. “It’s plenty deep enough. We’ll go at the exact same time.”
“Oh, Bran.” She covers her eyes.
“Talia, Talia, Talia.” I turn her to face me, rest my forehead against hers. “Last night, it was all I could think. Your name. Talia. It’s my own personal mantra. The three sexiest syllables in the English language.”
She attempts a smile. “You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Lockhart.”
My heart swells until nothing is left inside me but love, unbeaten and bright. I’m ready for what this decision will cost me; the price is everything, my entire life. Now. This is the moment. My backpack is below, but screw it, I’m doing it. “Like that name?” I kiss the fragile skin at the corner of her eye.
“Lockhart? Yes, sure, I love it.”
“I want you to have it.” I wait a beat to let my words sink in. “Last year, I asked you to marry me, but not the right way.”
She goes utterly still
. I swear she doesn’t even blink. My face reflects in her dilated pupils.
“Talia Stolfi.” I swallow. I brace her face between my hands. My muscles tremble, not from strain, but stunning fervor. “I don’t want a not-a-marriage with you. I need the real deal. Me. You. This. Forever. I love you more than anything on this entire bloody planet. You are the best person I know.”
She blinks. Her face, the one I can read as easy as a book, is closed.
My mouth dries. “I love you. I want you to be my wife. I have a ring. It’s down there in my pack. I was going to do this properly last night. Make it romantic. But I don’t think that’s me. I don’t have those moves. All I can do is swear that my love for you is the realest, best part of myself.”
“You have a ring?” she whispers.
“Yeah. I’ve had it a long time. I bought it last year when we were in Melbourne. I’ve always known I would ask you the right way. Fuck. And now I’ve gone and asked in exactly the wrong way.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry. I should have waited.”
“No!” She grips my shoulders.
“You won’t?”
“I will.”
Is she starting to cry? “Talia, I haven’t slept all night. You are driving me mad.”
“No, you shouldn’t have waited.” She threads her fingers through my hair. “Yes, I will marry you. And fair warning”—she pulls in a way that hurts but feels bloody incredible—“I am going to spend the rest of my life driving you crazy.”
“You’re serious?”
“Oh, prepare yourself. You’ll be begging for mercy.”
“I mean, yes. You’ll do this?”
“Marry you. For real? Without every possible disclaimer?” Her smile, I defy any precious stone to outshine her face in this moment.
“No disclaimers. I want a one hundred percent honest straight-up forever with you.” I crush my mouth against hers in a searing kiss that settles into a softness filled with the promise of our future together. I know I’ll hold on to this moment, like I’ll hold on to her, forever.
“I can’t believe you bought a ring.” She nips my bottom lip.
“Not just a ring. A Killiecrankie diamond,” I whisper.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a type of topaz, found on one of Tasmania’s islands. Beautiful and real, just like you.”
Her gasp is a laugh and a cry. “I’d love to see it.”
“You will. Once you jump.”
“Do you see my legs?”
“I do.” The poor things are trembling. I bracket her waist in my hands, rock her against me until we’re belly to belly. “You can do this, Captain. You are braver than you know.”
“If I stand here any longer, I’m going to pass out and fall in.”
“That doesn’t count. It needs to be an active choice.”
“A leap of faith?”
I nod and squeeze her closer. “That’s it, exactly.”
She bites the inside of her cheek. “We should do it before I change my mind.”
“One.” I step back and take her hand.
“Two,” she shouts.
“Three!” We call together, and jump.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Talia
Dogwood trees burst into perfect white blossoms, backdropped by four-hundred-foot waterfalls. We’re driving out of Yosemite, and I wouldn’t be surprised if a unicorn emerged from the forest. The fairyland setting perfectly matches my bright mood.
“Don’t you just love how it catches the light?” I wave my ring under Bran’s nose. It’s low-key and lovely. I’m powerless to stop admiring it.
“You showed me five minutes ago. And ten minutes before that.” He playfully nips the tip of my finger while keeping his eyes on the road ahead.
“Look again. This time it’s extra pretty.”
“Not as pretty as you.” He takes hold of my hand, rests it against the hard muscle above his knee.
“Aw, you’re the sweetest.”
“Don’t tell.”
“The secret is mine.” I mime zipping my lips.
A digital beep sounds, and my nerve endings fire to life. Service in the national park has been patchy. We’ve been out of range the whole drive back down.
“Think we have cell reception yet?” Bran plays a cool cucumber well, but won’t win any Oscars for this purposefully dumb act.
“Um, pretty sure that’s what the noise was.” I reach over into his pocket. “What if the radio station called?”
“Only one way to find out.”
Thud. Thud. Thud. My heart pounds in my ears as I check the messages. One from Sunny. Another from Beth. Nothing major, just the usual check-in. They want updates on Wyatt, and to see how I’m doing. They are going to seriously flip when I tell them we got engaged. The last message begins. “Hello, this is Diana Foster from NPR. We were very impressed with your interview last week and would like to offer you the program assistant position.” She keeps talking, but it’s impossible for me to hear over my shrieking.
“You did it.” Bran’s hand squeeze reveals he never doubted me. Not even for a second.
“Yes.” The reality hollows my bones, makes me feel featherlight. “Holy crap, I really did it.”
“We’re moving to San Francisco, baby.”
“Oh, God.” I start laughing.
“What?”
“You’re going to turn into an even bigger hipster.”
He bristles. “I’m not a fucking hipster.”
“Only a little.” I strain the belt and kiss his cheek. “But you’re my fucking hipster.”
The sign announcing Mariposa is just ahead.
“Hey.” I trace an idle pattern over his knuckles with my thumb. “Think we can stop at that motel?”
“Forget something?”
I clear my throat. “Yeah.”
He turns down a side street and parks beneath the Vag Inn sign.
“Back in a sec.” I jump out and inhale a deep breath, let the pine and dry grass scents root me in the present. This is kind of silly, but I need to do this, go talk to the tarot woman, tell her she was wrong with that stupid death card.
When I open the door into the motel lobby, the Christmas bell tied above the door jingles.
“Coming!” The familiar smoker-gravel voice announces from behind the beaded curtain. The old woman appears. She’s dyed her hair from jack-o’-lantern orange to a red that would pass unnoticed in a crime scene. “Well, look who the cat dragged in.”
“Yes, yeah, hello. I stayed here a few nights ago?”
“Oh, I remember. You drew death and scrammed.”
“No. I didn’t.”
The woman plops into her office chair and leans back with a heavy sigh. “I’m seventy-nine and my mind don’t always work like it should, but when it comes to the cards, I never forget.”
“I mean, yes. I did draw death. But it was a mistake.”
“The cards are never wrong.”
“They are.” Crap, I don’t want to raise my voice at the elderly. “Sorry. I mean, there was an error, ma’am.”
“You weren’t ready to listen.”
“Listen?”
She points to the rattan chair. “Pull that over and take a seat.”
I glance out the door. “Um, my boyfriend is waiting outside.”
“It does men good to wait on a woman. Now, come on, dearie, I don’t bite. Hard.” She smiles, revealing a thick glob of lipstick on her front tooth.
“Oh, no!” I mimic brushing my teeth. “You have something stuck there.”
She plucks a pocket mirror off a pile of receipts and grimaces at her reflection. “Aw, hell and a hot dog.” She grabs a tissue from the Kleenex box, wipes, and then swipes her tongue over, polishing her front tooth. “There. Now, where were we?”
“Death. Or rather, not death.”
“Definitely death. Ah-ah.” She holds up a finger to silence me. “There’s one privilege of age. I talk. You listen.�
��
“Okay.” I curl my toes with impatience.
“Death,” she says, her tone dramatic. “Death is an ending, yes?”
I nod, uncertain.
“But it’s also a beginning. That’s what the card told you. Time to clear away the old and welcome the new. Change is scary, but this time it will have a positive, cleansing, transformative force in your life. Are you following me?”
“Yeah, I think so.” I clear my throat. “Yes, I am.”
“What I’m saying has relevant application?” She cocks her head, her eyes bright.
I twist the ring on my finger and nod.
“The death card teaches it’s time to move forward. Rebirth.”
“So not doom and destruction.”
She explodes with a sound somewhere between an asthmatic donkey bray and belly laugh. “Heavens no. I tried to tell you that last time, but you ran away.”
“I’ve done that a lot.” I smile ruefully. “Mostly from myself.”
She gives me a long, cryptic look. “You can run and run but you’ll never escape you.”
“I’m excited for what’s ahead.” I’m not perfect, never have been and never will be, but that doesn’t mean my life can’t be incredible.
“Good.” She gives a brisk nod. “Because change comes. Ready or not.”
* * *
“Are you sure I’m doing this right?” Wyatt wiggles in my arms as I clutch him to my chest.
Jessie laughs. “You’re doing great. Maybe not so tight though.”
“Oh, right. He probably needs to breathe and stuff.”
“Isn’t he something?” Dad beams at me clutching my kid brother, like it’s the coolest thing he’s seen in a long time.
“He’s cute. Way cuter than a newborn should be.” I mean it. He’s all delightful yawns and loveable smiles. “I guess it figures though. I mean genetically. Babies need to be cute so that you can cope with all the work, right?”
“There’s a lot of that.” Jessie flops on the couch and rests her head on Dad’s shoulder. “I’m pooped.”
“Does he always move this much?” Bran asks.
“Always,” Jessie and Dad answer in unison.
Wyatt kicks his foot and barely misses my nose. “He’ll have a great future career in interpretive dance.”