by MK Schiller
He traced her lips with his finger. “We really need to fix that.” He cupped her cheek and kissed her. He tried to be gentle. Everything hurt, and her lips were chapped. But he couldn’t help himself. She parted her mouth. The kiss became more aggressive and needy. Thank God, she didn’t push him away or recoil. Instead, her fingers threaded through his hair. He tasted the mint of fresh toothpaste and her sweet, sweet mouth. He pulled away before he lost himself.
“Tristan?”
He leaned his forehead against hers. “There is so much I want to do to you right now, but our bodies need time to recover.”
She nodded. “We need sleep.”
Then he slowly spread the ointment across the rest of her body, gently rubbing it into every muscle. She moaned against his touch.
When he was done, he laid his head back. She took the ointment from his hand.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“It’s my turn.”
She rubbed his shoulders and back. She worked her hands into the muscles of his legs. When the container was empty, she laid her head against his chest. She ran her finger over the band of black on his left arm. He rubbed her back and looked out the window as the afternoon sun gave way to stars.
He wrapped his arms and legs around her, holding her in a tight embrace, a position that should not have been comfortable, but he could not imagine sleeping any other way. Then they slept. Really slept in a heavy, dreamless sleep on a warm bed with their arms folded around each other as if they were part of the same cocoon.
Chapter 22
When Farah awoke, she was alone. She stopped the panic from setting in. She wasn’t on the side of the Savage Mountain fighting for her life. She was in a warm room on top of a comfortable bed. He was close. She could feel his presence. She turned her head. There was a single stem next to her with a folded scrap of hotel stationery on his side of the bed. She unfolded the note, taking in his neat script.
Milady, I ran out to visit Malcolm and to get us some sustenance. I had the hotel launder our things. Naturally, they put your clothes in your room. My clothes are on top of the bureau. Please help yourself. This morning, I saw you sleeping and it felt so normal. I thought about doing a crossword puzzle with you and brunch. I don’t think I’ve ever had brunch in my life. Anyway, it occurred to me, it might be nice if you woke up next to a flower. I was trying to locate the perfect bloom for you, but the markets aren’t open yet. As you know, pot seems to grow in wild abundance around here so here’s a cannabis stem. It’s not ideal, but it is fragrant. Figured you could chew on the seeds till I get back. Love T.
She pressed the note close to her heart.
She stood, stretching her aching limbs. She walked to the bureau and found a T-shirt of his that came just above her knees. She washed up and brushed her teeth. When she came out of the bathroom, she glanced at the stem he’d left for her. It was nice, but she’d always treasure the pebble.
The pebble.
She searched around the room. Where was it? How could she lose it? She searched for her pack and then remembered she had lost it. But she carried the pebble with her. Where were the clothes she’d worn?
“Farah,” he said, his frame taking up the whole doorway. He held a bag in his arms. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for the pebble. I lost it.”
“It’s just a rock.”
She wondered if he had a concussion. “How can you say that? It’s my rock. The one you gave me and now I’ve lost it.”
“You didn’t.” He set the bag down on the small table and walked toward the bureau. He opened the first drawer. Inside was a small open box. Both of their stones rested next to each other.
She expelled a long, happy sigh. “Brilliant.”
“I found it in your coat pocket this morning.”
She hugged him. “How is Malcolm? I would have gone with you.”
“You were sleeping so peacefully, I’d feel like a total ass waking you up. Malcolm is fine anyway. Ornery as fuck, but fine. I would say he asked after you, but he didn’t, the ass.”
“He’s been through a lot.”
Tristan arched his brow. “He’s been through a lot?”
“We all have.”
“You’re right. I’m cutting him some slack and hoping it was the morphine talking. We’ll go later. But I did talk to the doctor.”
“And?”
Tristan’s smile was so full of relief she felt a blanket of tension slip away from her body. “He should be able to get around in a month or two with wheel chair. He won’t be climbing mountains, but he will live.”
“Thank God.”
“Hungry?”
As soon as he said it, her stomach cried out. “Starving.”
She sniffed the air. She almost licked her lips. “What is it? It smells so good.”
“Chicken kabobs with jasmine rice. Warm chapatti and lentil soup. Oh, and a surprise for you.”
“Surprise?”
His smile turned impish. “Yeah, but only if you share.” He lifted a large white box out of a bag. He cut the string and opened it. With a flourish, he took off the lid and bowed. “A whole chocolate cake.”
She did lick her lips this time. “I’m eating that first, and it’s all mine.”
“Only if I get to feed you.” He set it in the middle of the bed. He slid the fork down the side of the moist cake. He spooned some extra frosting. As promised, he fed it to her. She closed her eyes. The decadent dessert melted in her mouth.
He let out a frustrated growl.
She looked up at him. “Tristan, I was joking. Of course, I’ll share. Have some.” She gestured to the cake.
“It’s not that.”
“Then what?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Eat faster.”
Chapter 23
They finished their food. She threw away the last of the plates. Tristan gazed at her beautiful form, taking it all in, her dark curly hair, her soft skin, the sway of her hips, and her long, lean legs. As good as she looked wearing his T-shirt, he wanted her out of it.
He crossed the room in long determined strides and hooked his arm around her waist, pulled her against his chest. “I like the way you look in my shirt, but I’m about ready to rip it off you.” He kissed her and coaxed her mouth open. She tasted like chocolate cake, decadent and rich and delicious. “Does this feel wrong for us to do? Because if it does, you need to say something and I’ll stop. It’ll be the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I swear to you I’ll do it.”
She kissed him, soft and slow. “We’re not on the mountain anymore, Tristan. We’re safe. I’m less superstitious at this altitude.” She sat on the desk and unbuttoned his shirt. “To answer your question, nothing about us feels wrong to me.”
He buried his face in her hair. “I promise I’ll be gentle.” He planted slow kisses along her jaw.
“Why? Do you like it gentle?”
“You’re not tired?”
She shook her head. “We slept for over twelve hours.”
He laughed against her neck. “You’re not a virgin, are you?”
“No.”
“Forgive me, my misogynistic thinking ran away with me. Sorry for my assumption.”
“Does the idea of me being innocent appeal to you, Tristan?”
He gave her a coy smile. The first time his smile had ever been coy. “I don’t know if there’s a right answer to this. It feels like a test.”
She threw off his shirt and kissed his chest. “Just be honest with me. We’ve been honest with each other so far. I’m curious to know your thoughts.”
She moaned when he caressed her breasts with his large hands. Even through the T-shirt, her skin fired up. He whispered in her ear. “You turn me on, Farah. I like you as you are. To me, you’re perfect. If you have experience, that’s even bet
ter because I know I won’t be hurting you. I just want so much to make you feel good everywhere.”
“You make me feel good everywhere.” She pressed a finger against his lips. “Do one thing….”
“What’s that?”
She gripped a hold of his shoulders. Her mouth hovered close to his ear. “Don’t be gentle. I’m not fragile.”
“That much, I already knew.”
Her teeth grazed his earlobe. “I want to feel you inside me even when you’re not.”
“Now… That’s new information.” Something clicked as if a switch had been flipped. He picked her up. Farah swung her legs around his waist.
He covered her in hard, wet, hungry kisses. He threw her onto the bed by her hips. She bounced. For a second, he worried he’d hurt her, but the look in her eyes quieted his fear. He grabbed the box he’d picked up while he was out. It wasn’t easy to find the item. It definitely was not easy to convey what he wanted in a language he did not speak.
She shook her head.
“We need birth control, Farah.”
“I’m on the pill, Tristan. I had a full physical before this trip. They did every type of blood test. What about you?”
“Same. I’ve been tested for STDs.”
“Then put the box away.”
He threw it across the room. He unzipped his jeans. They met the same fate as the box. He moved onto the bed, covering her body with his. She reached between them and touched him. He closed his eyes and grunted. It took every ounce of strength to maintain his control and not come undone right then. There was something feral about this moment. She had become a basic need for him—he wanted her in a way that was completely primitive and wild and difficult to rationalize.
Physically, it was just sex. Mentally, it was so much more.
He kissed her neck and worked his way down to her nipples. He pinched her breast while he flicked his tongue over her sensitive flesh. She fisted her fingers through his hair, pushing him lower. He loved how she wasn’t shy. He went farther down, lowering his head inch by inch. She didn’t squirm or shy away from his touch. He held her hips and traced the welts around her stomach with his mouth. He went lower still.
She moaned when his tongue penetrated her. “Tristan…please.”
“Shhh.” He held up his head and locked eyes with her. “You know how you ate that cake? Like it was the best thing you’ve ever tasted? Well, that’s what I’m planning to do to you.”
He explored her until she quaked around him. She whispered his name, her fingers tugging his hair. Her one leg draped over his shoulder, her back arched.
He watched her, mesmerized by the way her mouth parted and her eyes widened. The soft throaty moans that escaped her lips. He moved up to swallow the last of her moans. He entered her in one swift motion. She was so wet. Her legs twisted around his hips like a vice, pushing and pulling in sync with his thrusts. Fuck.
Maybe he was the virgin because sex had never been like this for him. He rolled onto his back, bringing her with him. She rose up. Her damp hair swung back and forth as her hips undulated. She had rhythm, this girl. While she danced, each pulsing, intense move drove him deeper to the edge. He pulled himself up and grasped her hips. This time he led and moved her where he needed her.
He sank his teeth into her shoulder. She scratched his back. Then he felt himself slipping. He could not go there without her. He pushed her on her back. He clasped her ankle and angled her leg over his shoulder. He thrust fast and hard, each time causing her to gasp his name. He leaned his forehead against hers.
“I need you to do this for me, Farah.”
She moaned louder as he said her name.
“Farah. Farah. Farah. Please come. Please let me come.”
She let go then, the last shreds of her will dissipating. She cried out his name, her body shaking in waves of pleasure. He followed her there.
She collapsed into his arms. He was exhausted and spent. And feeling good all over.
Chapter 24
Sensing the absence of him the next night, she blinked herself awake. They’d gone to see Malcolm today. Tristan seemed different—his shoulders stooped and his smile didn’t hold the same joy. He kissed her with the same passion, but he was more distant. His eyes were darker, his smile not as bright. She sat up on the bed. Tristan was on a chair by the open window. The moonlight bathed his muscular, naked body. He drank from a clear open bottle.
“Tristan?”
“Sorry, did I wake you?”
“What are you doing?”
“Just thinking. Come here.”
She got up from the bed. Cold air grazed her skin. She wrapped the blanket around her and walked the few steps to him. She curled up on his lap and placed her head against his chest. He put his arms around her, much the way he had on the mountain the night they almost froze to death.
He offered her the bottle. She took a sip and then sputtered and coughed. The gin was strong and acrid, but it felt warm going down. “How can you drink that?”
He rubbed her back. “It’s an acquired taste.”
“What’s wrong, Tristan?”
He kissed her on the forehead. “Just thinking.”
“Remember when you asked me to take you to where I was?”
“Of course, I remember. We ate figs in a tree high off the ground.”
“You saved me.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “You saved me.”
When she cupped his face, he leaned into her hand. “Take me where you are now. I need to be there with you.”
“It’s all so surreal.”
“I know.”
“I keep thinking about them.”
“Me too. We haven’t mourned them properly.” She leaned her head against his chest. The rhythm of his heartbeat had become a familiar sound. It comforted her.
He rubbed his thumb across her wrist. “Rana and you were close.”
“We were friends. I will miss him.”
“He was in love with you, Farah.”
She wiped a tear. “No, he wasn’t.”
“He had his reasons for wanting us to keep apart, but that was chief among them. You never caught the way he looked at you.”
She pulled her head away and sat up. “We had mutual admiration for each other. I know that. He proposed to me once.”
The bottle hit the table with such force she thought it might break. “That would signal more than friendship, don’t you think?”
“You don’t understand how it works here.”
“I’ve lived in Nepal, Farah. I understand plenty.”
“It’s a completely different culture, Tristan. Ahmed and I had only met once when he asked me. He thought we’d be compatible because we were both climbers and had similar backgrounds. I never had those feelings for him. He didn’t love me, not in a romantic way. Maybe he thought we could cultivate those feelings, but I didn’t. That’s all. Not that it matters.”
“It matters.”
“You still blame yourself?”
“I just keep thinking it doesn’t feel right.”
“It doesn’t to me either. I didn’t tell you this when we were up there, but I heard the screws come loose. All of them.”
“So it was my craftsmanship.”
“I put them in too, but that’s just it. I don’t think it was. Ice is almost a living thing. The topography of it changes. We both know that’s why it’s so difficult to climb. But it doesn’t change in one instant. The ice we had going up the mountain should have been the same ice we had coming down. I could understand one screw coming loose or the ice shifting. But every single one of them? That’s got to be as rare as a…a Specter of Brocken.”
“Not a great example, milady. We saw one of those on this trip too, if you recall.”
“How could I forget? But it is weird,
right?”
“Yeah, I agree. You reacted well.”
“Only because of my position. I had enough warning and heard the sound of the screws coming loose. If I hadn’t heard it, I wouldn’t have unclipped. I yelled to the others, but it was too late.”
She shivered and buried her face against his neck. The realization hit her again. How many ways had they almost met with death? She tried to choke back a sob. He held her close, rocking her as she came apart. Finally, she wiped the tears and caught her breath.
“Do you love me?” he asked.
The question shook her to the core. She’d been so careful with her heart, guarding and protecting, even keeping it in a vault. She’d decided long ago, freedom and independence had the same definition…at least for her they did. She would not let a man dictate her future. But she’d never bargained for this man who had removed logic from the equation. It became close to impossible to hold back the dam of feelings circling inside of her. Love was a virus. It had to be. What else could affect the head, the lungs and, most of all, the heart in one fell swoop? It swirled around her like a warm phantom wind only she could feel. It left her confused and panicked and emotional. It left her full and happy and dizzy too. Love was the virus. What was the cure?
“Tristan…”
The sound of his heart changed then. The beat sped up. “I know Rana loved you because he looked at you the same way I look at you. As if you are my ground and my sky.”
She opened her mouth. He placed a finger over her lips. “I’m not done. I’ve been sitting here getting a little drunk and thinking about us. You don’t have to say it. It’s probably better if neither of us says it. I already have the answer. I even know why we haven’t said it to each other already or why we never talk about our tomorrows. It didn’t feel right when we were almost dying. It doesn’t feel right when we’re alive and well either. I’ve been racking my head, trying my damndest to figure out why. I get it now. It’s something you said to me once. My normal and your normal are not the same. I can’t stay here and you won’t leave.”