I scowl. “No, actually.”
He takes my hand with his free one. “I have something to tell you.”
“What?”
“Let’s go somewhere else first.”
We go hunting around and finally find a spare corner near some lockers at the end of a hallway. Julian, I realize, looks different to me. He’s kind of glowing, actually. Did he get some sun? “Well?”
“I didn’t stay at the lodge all day.”
I look at him, puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I left. I went somewhere else.”
“Where?”
He grins.
“Julian! Tell me!”
“I went snowmobiling.”
My brain scrambles. Is this safe? Is he okay?
“You went...”
“Snowmobiling.” He flashes me a big Hollywood smile.
“How was it?”
“Amazing!” he cries. “Incredible. It was like a guided tour on a trail. We all zoomed along after the leader. I didn’t do any crazy jumps or anything, but still...” He hugs me with his free arm.
I touch his chest. “Crazy.”
“No, I loved it.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. It’s worth it if I’m a little sore.”
“Your doctors would kill you if they knew. So would Estella.”
“Don’t tell her. Don’t tell anyone.”
“I guess. I’m happy you enjoyed it.”
“Have you ever ridden a snowmobile?” he asks me.
“Yes.” I smile. “They’re too noisy. They vibrate too much.”
“Such a girl,” he teases. His lips meet mine.
I break away from him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Never better. Let’s stay the night. Go again tomorrow.”
“Okay. Daredevil.”
Making out with Julian isn’t a casual thing for me. It’s always hot and intense, and being in public in a ski lodge doesn’t change that.
“So much clothing,” he complains. Because I’m in ski pants, regular pants, and thermal underwear—three layers on top and bottom, basically. He pulls my bottom lip into his mouth for a minute and finally manages to get the palm of his hand against my bare back.
“I want you,” I whisper. The words just spill out of me. And suddenly, I realize they’re true. I do want him. Kind of desperately.
Julian’s forehead touches mine. “Me too. But we should probably wait.”
“For what?”
“Until I can put more weight on my legs.”
“I don’t care about that.”
“I care.”
“Julian, please...”
He groans and kisses me, tries to press up against me. “Damn these fucking ski pants.”
I laugh—and his phone bings.
“That could be Estella.”
“Shit,” he mutters. He checks it. “Yeah, it’s her. I’ll go meet her. You...”
My mouth is distracting him.
“You should go,” I say.
“She can wait.”
His kiss is deep and so erotic it makes me feel fragile, like I’m being put too much on display here in this corner.
“Huh,” I breathe.
“Hmm?”
“Nothing, just... Estella’s waiting.”
“Okay.”
Once he’s gone, I go into the women’s room and try to collect my wits. Okay, so PDAs aren’t a problem for him. There are worse faults. I mean, kissing him in public would be okay if I didn’t react so strongly.
I splash some water on my face. I’ve gotten some sun, too, I realize. God, I want him so much. He snuck off to go snowmobiling. Wild.
I leave the bathroom and go looking for them. Every skier in a black coat and hat must be Estella and isn’t. Then finally I see Estella walking over to me, all pink-cheeked, eyes sparkling. If Dad could see her like this he’d lose his mind. “There you are. How’d it go?” she asks.
“Good. You?”
“Incredible. This was a great idea.”
“I know! Where’s Julian, have you found him yet?”
“He went to the store. He’ll be right back.”
I nod and wonder what he’s buying there.
“Julian was suggesting we stay another day,” she says.
“I’d have to miss school again. But sure. That sounds good.”
“Here he comes now.”
I turn, and there’s Julian hobbling over to us on his cane. “Hey Cami, how were your runs?”
My face warms under his gaze, even though he’s doing his best to keep this polite and in check. “Good.”
“Cami says she’d love to stay another day.”
“Anything to miss school, eh?” he kids.
I shrug.
“She works so hard, she deserves it,” Estella says. “I’ll just make a few calls and get us a room. Call Chris.”
What would take me half a day of planning takes this woman no time at all. Within fifteen minutes, she’s told Dad and gotten me off work and school for another day, made a reservation for two rooms for us in a small moderately-priced hotel, and she’s found a steak place for us to have dinner.
We lug our gear back to the car and head on over to the restaurant. “So, I take it you weren’t too bored then,” Estella says to Julian.
“No, I was fine. How were your runs, Stell?”
She starts telling him about each of them and the waitress comes over. Julian orders the bowl of clam chowder, the salad, and a steak with mashed potatoes. Clearly, he’s hungry.
“How about you, Cami?” Estella says. “Which trails did you do after I left?”
I name a few for her. Julian’s leg touches mine under the table—his left leg, and all I can think of is him on the snowmobile having the secret time of his life and then pushing me into that corner and me whispering how I wanted him.
“Please pass the ketchup,” he says when the food arrives.
Oh my God... I told him I wanted him. I stare at my chicken dinner.
“This doesn’t offend you, does it?” Julian asks. “Me polluting my food with ketchup?”
“Nope,” I say with a smile. “You can ruin your food all you like.”
“Hey, you can always go back into the kitchen and whip up something better for me. Maybe a nice béarnaise with lobster and crab.”
“Uh-oh. Estella, I think Julian’s been watching the cooking channel again.”
Everyone grins. We finish our meal and linger over cups of decaf and slices of pie before heading to the hotel. It seems fine. Clean, but not extraordinary.
“Should we make a toothbrush run?” I ask Estella once we’ve checked in.
“Yes, let’s.”
“You two go ahead,” says Julian. “I’m going up.”
He heads to his room, and we leave him in search of a drugstore.
“I haven’t seen Julian this happy in a long time,” Estella comments once we’re alone in the car. It’s dark out and starting to snow. The snowflakes fall gently against the windshield. “He had real problems, you know, when my sister died. She was all he had.”
“How did she die?” I ask.
“Breast cancer.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. That must have been awful.”
“It was. Especially for Julian. He was an angel at home—sweet and helpful. But at school he’d get into fights, he started failing his classes. He went from straight A’s to D’s and F’s. Finally, I got him into boxing. I had to, I had no choice. That turned to an interest in team sports, and the focus there helped his grades and study habits. He was brilliant, of course, like his mother. She worked for a think tank in Washington. Julian’s father died when he was a baby—killed in Somalia—and his father’s father earned the Congressional Medal of Honor. So, I wasn’t all that surprised when Julian decided to give it all up and enlist.”
She’s driving around, looking for a place to go, lost in thought and kind of rambling. But I’m hooked on eve
ry word. “Julian’s not as strong as he pretends to be,” she says. “I mean, Brandon is solid, reliable, well-liked, smart but not brilliant. Julian’s...well, he’s Julian. He’s brilliant but he’s also more of a loose cannon. He’s full of amazing potential, but it could go either way. He could wind up a United States Senator or in jail for manslaughter. And if he doesn’t turn out all right because of this damned war...”
“He will.”
“If he doesn’t...”
“Estella. He will.”
She nods. “General store.”
We park, go inside and get toothbrushes and T-shirts for tomorrow. Then we head back to the hotel and suddenly I wonder what room I’m supposed to be in, hers or his. Hers. Of course hers.
We head upstairs. It’s a little ski chalet. The two rooms are next to each other. The carpeting is well-worn, snow-stained. Estella knocks on Julian’s door and he answers. “Here you go,” she says handing him a toothbrush and T-shirt. “Want to watch TV?”
“Sorry, I’m beat,” he says. He looks at me. “Are you—”
“Ready, Cami?” says Estella, cutting him off. “Our room awaits.”
Suddenly, I wonder if Estella senses something. I look at Julian. His face isn’t giving much away that I can tell.
“Yeah,” I say and go with her.
Chapter Twenty-Five
It’s maybe twelve-thirty when I decide to do the unthinkable. I slip my jeans back on, take a room key, glance at Estella—sound asleep—and tiptoe out the door barefoot, hands shaking. I knock lightly on Julian’s door, sure he too is fast asleep. I can’t hear a thing inside his room. But I know he’s got the cane and his legs to deal with, so I wait. Even though he’s sleeping. He said he was tired. This is stupid... I clutch my room key and decide I’ll leave. I’ll wait twenty more seconds and then leave. He’s not coming. Okay. I turn—and of course that’s when the door opens. Jeans. Cane. Bare chest.
“Hi,” I manage.
The door opens wider. I slip inside, and I’m instantly pinned to the wall by Julian’s free arm and body. “Estella’s asleep?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“You’re trembling.”
“I...” His kiss leaves me breathless; my arms are wrapped around him. His balance is better now, but distantly I worry about him falling again. My legs may give out also. “Ahh...”
“Come to bed.”
We can’t let go of each other. Somehow, we manage to reach the mattress.
Julian draws me to him, pulls my clothes away and starts touching and tasting hidden parts of me. I’m lost to unfolding layers of pleasure from this. My mouth can’t find his soon enough, and then can’t kiss him deeply enough. His tongue sends erotic jolts through me. I undo his jeans and lower them, aching for him.
“Hold on,” he says.
“Hmm?”
“I...” He winces.
“What?” I ask, stroking his chest.
“I need to take my leg off first.”
I kiss him—to show this is fine with me. “Okay.”
He moves to the end of the bed, and I touch his back as he bends over and rolls up his pant leg. He has a rub mark on the right side, a place where the skin is ridged and uneven, like from scraping against rough asphalt.
His prosthetic leg falls to the floor, and I wrap my arms around him, hugging him from behind and kissing his ear. He holds both of my wrists in one hand and looks troubled.
“Do you want to turn back around?” I ask.
He flinches. “Yeah... I...” His eyes close. He holds my wrists more tightly. Then he turns to me, kisses me, pulls me against him. But in a way that feels more uncertain. When I touch his already-unzipped jeans again, he moves slightly away. “Cami...”
“Hmm?”
“Maybe you don’t want this.”
“I do.”
“Maybe you’re not realizing I’m...you know...”
I start kissing his neck, his chest. His eyes close. He falls back but his face still bears traces of that wince, and when I remove his pants it gets even worse. His teeth, I suddenly notice, are clenched.
Julian’s left leg is badly scarred. His right half leg is still in its cotton sleeve. He pulls on the blankets with his right hand, as if to cover this part of himself.
“No,” I say, catching his hand in my own. “Julian?”
He opens his eyes and looks at me, and his expression is so vulnerable, I can’t help but fall on him and start whispering reassurances. His hands caress me, and he starts responding and forgetting about the leg, and we’re caught up in this sweet, tender moment together.
“What are you thinking?” he asks, his mouth on me.
“I’m thinking, yes...yes...”
His grip on me tightens and he takes away everything—thought, worry, reason. The leg is off, in a sleeve, whatever, who cares. I grip him and lose myself somewhere in the expanse of his chest, in those ridged abs, in the warm earthy smell of him, the rich sounds in the back of his throat, and the taste of him as he engulfs and then, in turn, consumes me. The build inside me heightens, grows intense.
He reaches for his coat and pulls a box of condoms out of the pocket.
“I got them today in the...”
“Just hurry.”
Frantic fingers tear at packaging. Words fall away as I take the thing from him and try to roll it on him but fumble it. “Turn it around,” he says, helping me.
This is all so strange and hot and awkward and intimate. He folds me into his arms and holds me close. “Breathing still?”
“Barely.”
“Shift this way.” Our mouths lock together as I shift over him, legs shaking, breath catching; he pushes against me, and I gasp.
“Bad?”
“No. I’m just scared.”
Julian hesitates. “Me too,” he whispers, and I love him. Utterly. Completely.
He looks at me. “We’ll need to do this together.”
“Okay...that sounds perfect.”
A lingering kiss, another, a third, more desperate and we try again; then somehow through the shifting and shaking and guiding and adjusting—success. We both stifle our cries and cling to each other. Neither of us moves for a moment. All there is is his chest rising and falling against mine, his arms around me, and this, the source of so much new soreness and strangeness.
He cradles my head in his hands and kisses me. Then he moves and my mind trips into the darkness of my closed eyes, into the deep sense and awareness of him as he lifts and fills me; as everything else falls away, is lost to this, for there is only this, him and how he is with me, making each new sensation turn inward and explode inside me. Cries spill from me as I cling to him, as he grips me, cries out himself and then holds me very still.
When I return to myself, I find I’m still cradled in his arms. Tears are in my eyes and he kisses them away. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. Our lips meet, and I’m reminded of it, all of it. I want more, but he’s too breathless to keep kissing me for long.
“Have I hurt you?” he asks, still catching his breath. “I think I must have.”
“No.”
He pulls what’s left of me back over him, onto the mattress, and I feel his heart pounding and the rise and fall of his chest against mine. I’m still crying a little. “Why the tears then?” he asks.
“I don’t know.”
“Please tell me.”
“I just...suddenly feel alone.”
He hesitates. “But I’m right here.”
“I know. It makes no sense. I just...” More tears. Because I’m a dope.
“Shhh...you’re not alone. You have me.”
“Hmm.”
He wipes my eyes. “It’s true. I’m all yours and have been ever since you threw that muffin at me.”
This is news to me. “Really?”
“Yep. It hit my face and I thought, Hey, I could get used to this.”
I smile. “That’s because of the streusel topping.”
He la
ughs and caresses me lightly with the tips of his fingers. “Mom used to say life gives you everything in balance. Everything bad will be countered by an equal amount of good.”
I sigh and snuggle in against him.
“For a long time, I’ve looked at my life and figured Mom’s little Zen theory was bullshit,” he says. “But then tonight I heard this knock at my door.”
I kiss him and then close my eyes and nestle into his chest.
The next morning, I awaken to find Julian asleep beside me. I pull slightly away and stare at him, because for the first time ever, he’s sleeping peacefully with me. He’s extremely beautiful like this, so relaxed and innocent-looking. Something about his perfectly neat chin and the slope of his cheek, the turn of his upper lip. It’s easier to look at him now without the force of his eyes on me and just the ambient light from the windows. I think he’d look even better, though, with his hair longer. I touch his hair and his eyes open. “Sorry to wake you,” I say.
“I was mostly awake.” He stares at me, and then he smiles. “When I bought the condoms yesterday, I was like, Wow, she wants me. Then later during dinner it was more like, Wow, I sure hope they don’t fall out of my pocket.”
I laugh and press my body against him, wanting him again.
His smile fades; his gaze deepens. “You’re not too sore?” he asks, and it strikes me how perfect this is—that he can feel what I want without me even needing to say it, that his voice is so soft and tender for me, that he’s so concerned for me.
My hand runs over him. “No. But when do you think I should sneak back?”
“Soon. It’s just after five.”
“We can be fast.”
He embraces me, can’t seem to get close enough to me. “Kiss me quick then.”
I do—and do. Eventually, we fall, weak and sweaty, back onto the mattress, and I listen to Julian’s breath leveling off. He’s holding my hair in one hand as if to steady himself. “You’ve blown my mind.”
“Hmm,” I sigh.
He covers us with the blankets, and we fall sound asleep.
* * *
“Shit,” Julian says suddenly. “Cami, wake up—it’s seven.”
“Seven?” I sit up in a panic. “Oh no, what do we do? She’s probably up by now!”
“Just...tell her you woke up early and went to find the continental breakfast.”
Stir Me Up Page 18