by Leylah Attar
“Yes?” he answered. Then he laughed. “Really, Bahati? No gas money? That’s the best you can come up with? Put Goma on the line. Oh? You don’t want to get her involved? That’s right. Or she’ll make you drive through Maasai land in her muumuu. I know you don’t want to. Do it for me, okay? No, you still get the seats. The seats stand, plus, I will be forever indebted. Yes? Okay.”
We watched the phone for a few more moments after Jack hung up, but it didn’t ring again.
“You think?” I asked.
“I think.” Jack put the phone away. “He’s going to come through.”
WE SENSED THE rain before it came, in racing clouds that thrummed with charged energy. I was securing the poles at the base of the tent when it started falling, rolling over us in thick, warm sheets.
“Get inside,” Jack shouted over the rumbling of the sky. “I’ll finish off.”
“I got this one. You fix the other side.”
By the time we crawled into the tent, we were wet and soggy but exhilarated from racing against the storm.
“No, leave it open,” I said, as Jack went to zip the door shut. “I want to watch.” I leaned back on my elbows, trying to catch my breath.
We lay beneath the raining canvas, gazing through the tent flaps. In the distance, thorn trees stood in iron silhouette against the gray sky. Water mingled with the cindery soil, filling the air with the sweet, earthy fragrance of rain.
Jack grew still. Too still.
“Are you okay?” I asked. His hair was wetly draped over the bones of his chiseled face.
“It’ll take some time,” he replied, staring into the light. “I can’t shake off this feeling—of wanting to stand by Lily’s side, so she’s not alone out there, in the rain. I know it doesn’t make any sense, I know she’s gone, but a part of me still wants to protect her.”
A train whistled in the far distance, and somewhere on the water-washed plains, a solitary jackal whined at the flash of lightning.
“I’m sorry.” Jack blinked and tilted his head to look at me. “Sometimes I get so wrapped up in it, I don’t see the whole picture. At least I got Lily back. They never recovered your sister’s body. That had to be tough.”
“It was. It is.” I folded my arms around my knees and rested my chin there. “But then I think that maybe Mo would have wanted it that way. She never wanted to stay in one place. She felt boxed in. And now she’s . . . free. She would have laughed at my thwarted mission. First, that I crawled out of my comfort zone for her. And then at how wrong everything went, how I couldn’t get even one of her kids to Wanza. If there’s a lesson behind things, I wonder what I’m supposed to learn from it.”
“Maybe the lesson is not for you but for me. So you can teach me that it’s okay to sit in the rain without Lily, and not feel like dying.”
He leaned in and something wild swirled in the pit of my stomach. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a lesson—a fierce, burning imprint, so that my lips would always know the difference between being wanted and being craved. The world washed away in a blurry, wet painting. All that was left was Jack’s hot breath, the firmness of his lips, the way his drenched clothes clung to his body. When he pulled back, he was breathing hard, like he’d run a long, long way.
“Stop running, Jack.” I took his beautiful face in my hands as lightning flashed in the distance. “Stop running away from us. I want you. I’m not asking you for forever. Yes, it’s what I wanted—it’s what I was waiting for. But then I took a trip. And I realized I’d been living in a delicate, made-up world. No, not living. Hibernating. Crossing off the days, one after the other. So what I want—what I really want, is this one rainy afternoon. I want to go back home drunk and intoxicated, filled with ecstasy and white heat. So love me tenderly, Jack. Or love me recklessly. I don’t care which. But do it now. You never know if we’ll be passing this way again.” His expression was so galvanizing, my heart fluttered wildly in my chest. “Your words. Remember?”
“I was talking about a trip to the crater, not—”
“Not this?” I tossed off my wet top in a passionate challenge.
My invitation pushed him over the edge. Something intense flared through him—instant, electric, as if I had just unleashed him.
Shit. I’m in for it now. My pulse pounded with a dizzy cocktail of desire, rimmed in gritty bits of trepidation. He gazed at me intently, cranking up the anticipation until it was almost unbearable.
“Take it off,” he said, his command thick with longing.
My fingers faltered as I slid off one strap, and then the other. He didn’t wait for me to unclasp my bra. He was done waiting. His tongue flicked my nipple through the wet fabric before he latched on, sucking it into his mouth, rasping the edges with his teeth.
“Ohhh.” My breath escaped as he brought my untried senses to life, pulling down the lace on the other cup and flicking the puckered peak with his thumb.
He lifted me into his lap, straddling my legs on either side of him. He was hard, and he wanted me to know it. “Last chance, sweetness. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you. So if you’re having second thoughts, now’s the time, because in a little while I’m going to take you, gently at first, and then to all kinds of dark, delicious places.”
His breath left hot, phantom kisses between my breasts, his words making me squirm. His husky bedroom voice sent delightful shudders through me. My insides jangled with excitement. Without breaking the intense gaze we were locked in, I tugged at the hem of his T-shirt. He lifted his arms and let me peel it off. His skin was slick with rainwater, but the heat coming off his body was palpable. Our breaths came in unison as we paused at the edge, that exquisite swell of silence between the crack of lightning and the roar of thunder.
And then the space between us exploded.
He covered my mouth hungrily, devouring its softness, his long fingers buried in my hair. He tugged a fistful, exposing my neck and left a trail of tantalizing, beard-brushed kisses. My back arched at the feel of them—unexpectedly silky against my flesh. Goosebumps rioted over my skin as he unclasped my bra and tossed it aside. My eyelashes fluttered shut when his tongue swirled over a taut, dusky pink nipple, whispering his adoration in gruff, short breaths.
“Hold tight, sweetness.” He gazed up at me when my hands clutched his shoulders. His eyes held the most intoxicating kind of threats and promises.
I gasped as he pushed me onto my back, his hand searing a path down my abdomen and onto my thigh. He rubbed slow circles over the wet, clinging fabric of my jeans, moving closer and closer to the junction between my legs.
My nerves thrummed, like the rain falling on the canvas roof over us, but he denied me and tugged at my zip instead. I held my breath as he pulled it down slowly, watching me with a look that was so potent, so compelling, he might as well have been unfastening my soul, bit by quivering bit. He slid my jeans off and sat back on his knees, drinking me in.
It had been different in the dark, but in the gray, muted daylight, my insecurities kicked in. It wasn’t as if I’d been naked in front of many men before. A hand under my blouse, a feel up my skirt, but never so exposed. And certainly not with someone who looked like Jack. My hands moved instinctively across my breasts and stomach.
“Don’t.” He clamped my wrists above me as his hooded eyes roved over my naked body. My flesh trembled, my toes curled, but when I opened my eyes and caught the expression on his face, everything melted. He was looking at me like I was stardust and light.
“Jesus.” His eyes darkened with stark sensuality. “You are so fucking beautiful.”
He paused to kiss me and then started planting worshipful caresses with his hands, and his lips, and his tongue, and his teeth. He moved slowly, relishing every inch, until the hot flush of desire rippled in waves under my skin, making my hips surge in an age-old rhythm.
“That’s it, baby. Now let me ride it with you.”
I bucked at the first brush of his tongue between my slick folds as he
buried his face between my legs.
“Mmm.” He lifted his head for a second to savor the wetness on his lips. “God, I’ve been dying to taste you. You’re . . .” The rest of his words were muffled, but they melted into hot, sweet vibrations against the very core of me.
Jack was not a quiet lover. He voiced his pleasure with thick, throaty sounds. He threw my leg over his shoulder and nipped my inner thigh before plunging his tongue into me. I held onto his wild, thick hair as involuntary tremors of arousal shot through me. He seemed to sense the awakening flames because his movements intensified, carrying me to the peaks of pleasure.
“Yes.” He lifted my hips off the floor, bringing me in full, carnal contact with his mouth. “Fuck, yes.”
His raw sensuousness sent me over the edge. I gasped, and yielded to the twisting, gasping sweetness that burst through me in whirls of electric sensation.
I was still panting when he gathered me against his warm, pulsing body. My breasts crushed against the hardness of his chest as he rubbed the bare skin of my back and shoulders. It was as if he knew I needed that, to ground me because I felt like I was going to float away.
I don’t know exactly when we started kissing, or when his soft stroking turned my skin to liquid fire. Something dormant had awakened in me, and I was greedy with it. I tugged on his jeans, sliding them off. I touched him, explored him, aroused him, worshiped him—the moon-curve of his lips, the pleasure groves behind his ears, the valleys between his hard, chiseled abs. He was like a piece of living, breathing, responsive art—melting when I touched him here, turning rock hard when I teased him there. I learned his taste and his curves, the sweetness of his breath, the indents of his back, the rough hair on his leg. I reveled in his moans, his grunts, his shivers of delight, the way his head rolled back when I took him in my mouth, the look in his eyes as he lowered his body over mine, imprisoning me in a web of mounting arousal.
He held still for a second, though I could feel him throbbing with need before he pushed in. My body stretched to accommodate him, inch by slick inch—slowly, impossibly—until he came to a barrier. He withdrew slightly and brushed a strand of hair off my face.
“Kiss me,” he said, smoky and raw.
I touched my lips to his, my focus still on the point where our bodies were melded.
“A real kiss,” he growled, grazing my bottom lip with his teeth. “Like this.” His mouth swooped down to capture mine until my senses were spinning. My breath escaped through softly parted lips. “Give me your tongue.” His words were a spell I had fallen under. I shivered as the velvet warmth of his tongue tangled with mine, losing myself to the mastery of his kiss.
That was when he thrust deep into me—one hard, firm push that made me gasp and break free of his lips. I clutched his shoulders, my nails leaving crescent shaped indents as the pain tore through me.
“Shhh. I’ve got you.” He dropped kisses on my forehead, my nose, the corner of my mouth. He stayed inside me, not moving, until my body adjusted to him and the pain subsided.
“Not gonna lie.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he started to rock gently inside me. “It’s taking everything in me not to take you hard and fast. You feel like heaven.” He laced his fingers through mine, as if to anchor himself.
My body melted around him, and the world was filled with him. We found a tempo that bound our bodies together.
Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack, it sung to me, each thrust of his hips carrying me higher.
I clung to him, riding out the raging storm that was building up inside me.
“Rodel.” The words were strained as he buried his face in my neck, his hot breath scorching my skin. Passion flamed through my veins as his rhythm changed. His fingers dug deep into my hipbones as he started tipping over the fine edge of control. His thumb found my clit and he drew out a moan. My thoughts fragmented as he teased it, stroked it, flicked it.
“Jack.” My entire body clenched and then peaked as he freed me in bursts of shuddering rapture.
Lighting flared around us as his breath hitched and his thighs tensed. In a moment of blinding clarity, I realized that every time the thunder rolled, I would think of Jack—the essence of him clinging to my senses, the turbulence of his passion around me, our boundary lines dissipating. Skin and bone and breath tangled up in a sizzling bolt of ecstasy.
We lay there, chests heaving, Jack’s forehead resting on mine until our breathing slowed.
“You okay?” he asked, running his thumb along my jaw.
I sighed in pleasant exhaustion and snuggled closer. I ached, but it was nothing compared to the satisfaction that came from yielding to the searing need that had been building up in me.
“When do you think we can do it again?” I asked.
“You little minx.” Jack smiled and wrapped me up in his arms. He was warm. So deliciously warm.
My eyelids drooped, but I didn’t want to miss any of it—the way his fingertips were tracing the outline of my lips, the way his beautifully proportioned body felt against mine, the flecks of harvest gold in his sky-blue eyes.
“Remember this.” He brushed the hair off my neck and breathed a kiss there. “When you’re curled up with your books on a rainy afternoon in England, remember how you painted my world with your colors. Remember your rainbow halo.”
“I will.” A hot ache grew in my throat. He was already saying goodbye. “I’ll remember. For the rest of my life.”
Outside, the thrumming of the rain softened as the clouds passed over. Inside, we held each other, burning bittersweet poems in the silence.
“Jack?” I propped myself up and looked at him, brows softened, eyes half closed, defenses down. Spent and happy, like a big cat lounging on a rock.
I wanted to remember him like this, exactly like that.
“What?” He was measuring my palm against his, fingers splayed, all five touching each other.
I wish I could explain to you what that voice does to me.
I wish I could explain to you how you make me feel.
I don’t think I’ll ever fall as hard and as fast for anyone, the way I fell for you.
I don’t think I’ll ever love anyone the way I love you.
“Nothing.” I took his face in my hands and kissed him.
“You think I don’t feel it?” he whispered, under the curtain of my hair. “Every beat of my heart is taking you away from me. I want to stop here forever. This tent, this kiss, this moment.” His fingers sunk into my hair as he pulled me to his lips.
I was drinking in the sweetness of his kiss when my stomach growled.
“I think your stomach wants in on the action.” Jack slid down and put his ear to my belly. “Are you talking dirty to me?” He proceeded to have a makeshift conversation. “What? No shit.” He came up and gave me a grim look. “Good news or bad?”
“How bad is it?” I played along.
“Death threats. If I don’t feed you, I’m done for.”
“And the good?” I laughed.
“You get a bite to eat, and then we get to pick up right where we left off.”
“And what about you?”
“Oh, I plan to eat my fill, sweetness.” He bit the slope between my neck and shoulder and held it between his teeth before soothing it with his tongue.
I fidgeted with a bag of milk chocolate squares while he rummaged through his backpack.
“This can or this one?” He held out identical tins.
“Both.” I popped a piece of chocolate into my mouth and grabbed another one. Apparently, sex made me hungry.
“Do you hear that?” asked Jack, sitting up straighter.
There was a faint, metallic clanging coming from outside.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Sounds like . . . cowbells.”
We got dressed and pushed the tent flaps aside. The rain had stopped, but a thick mist rose out of the damp, heated ground.
“Why would anyone bring cows to this godforsaken place?” Jack stepped outsid
e.
I crawled out after him and squinted into the dense, colorless haze.
“They may not see us,” said Jack, picking up the two cans he’d just emptied for our lunch. “We need to keep them from trampling over our tent.” He hurried ahead, striking the cans together as an alert.
The cowbells got closer but seemed to still as the other party heard us. We stopped and peered through the humid vapor. Groves of monumental rock rose on either side of us. The mist gave everything a fey-like quality, like we were standing at the threshold of an otherworldly place, still and suspended, except for the muted clink of the odd cowbell.
A figure appeared through the fog, shrouded in veils of phantom gray. He planted his spear in the soft, sodden soil and stood before us like a velvet-black shadow. A checkered sheet hung around his shoulders and loops of silver jangled from his earlobes.
“Olonana.” Jack stepped forward as the chief came into focus.
“Kasserian ingera.” He lifted his spear in greeting. How are the children?
Jack was about to reply when the ribbons of mist around Olonana shifted. Moon white faces appeared soundlessly, one by one, around the chief’s dark figure. I watched breathlessly, as they materialized, like silent notes summoned by a conjurer’s symphony. One, two, three, four . . . they kept stepping out of the mist, until they were all standing, like a line of vapor-cloaked wraiths on either side of Olonana.
Thirteen albino kids, flanked by a pair of red-garbed Maasai warriors.
My hair stood on end. Against the backdrop of distant, blurry mountains, the group stood before us with an air of expectation. Behind them, cows sniffed the wet, barren ground, searching for whispers of grass.
“Jack Warden,” Olonana prompted him for a response. “I have come a long way to bring you these children.”
“What . . . ?” Jack paused. “How . . . ?”
“The last time we met, you told me you would be in Magesa, end of the month. I am glad I caught up with you. I cannot go any farther with the cattle, so I leave them with you.” He gestured toward the children that were huddled around him. “Where are the other kids, the ones you were transporting to Wanza?”