The Christmas Backup Plan, page 19
“So it is, Alzate.” He smiled at her in the dim lighting and she smiled back and soon they returned to the fevered pitch they were at before the lull in their lovemaking.
They got busy exploring. They tickled and teased. All kinds of love games. Used tongues and fingers. Lips and teeth. Used firm pressure and featherlight touches.
He kissed her body from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Sending hot signals of excitement blasting through her. She bit lightly the sensitive skin on the underside of his arm, and he shuddered hard.
He licked the back of her knee. She ran her tongue over his collarbone.
They massaged and fondled, squeezed and tantalized until they had both reached a frenzied apex, sweating and panting and craving bone-deep release.
His thumbs brushed her nipples and she let out a desperate moan. Incredible!
She was staggered, stunned, swept away. “Please,” she begged. “Please, Remy.”
“Please what?”
“I’ve gotta have you or I’m gonna lose my ever-loving mind,” she rasped.
“You ready for this?”
“I’ve been ready since Armadillo.”
He laughed and pulled her on top of him, her legs tucked around his waist, her torso leaning over his. Their noses touched until they were cross-eyed.
She was revved and ready for him. So ready. Slick and slippery, sliding easily over his rock-hard shaft, merging her body with his.
“Aria.” He gasped as she moved over him.
She glanced down. At the gorgeous man under her. She was in control. He was letting her be in charge. A butterfly flitting over the iron warrior, and he stared at her with adoring eyes, as if she was the most incredible thing that had ever existed in the history of the universe.
That was a heady feeling. His rapt attention.
My man, she thought greedily. Mine.
At least for tonight.
Being with him was like the high point of a wedding, the best part where the officiant looked into the eyes of the bride and groom and asked if they vowed to honor each other for all the days of their lives.
She always lost her breath at that point. When two people did the most intimate thing that they could do fully clothed, pledge their troth in front of their loved ones.
But this here? This was the most intimate thing people could do naked, and boy were they having fun.
She quickened her pace rocking against him with every bit of energy she possessed. Remington groaned and settled his hands on her waist, thrusting deeper inside her.
Throwing back his head, his dark hair spilling over the blanket shiny as oil, exposing his throat twinkling red in the glow of the Christmas lights. She moved against him, floating and wobbling in a sweet steady rhythm.
Her legs were rubber. Her breath raw and raspy.
Remington lifted his head, took hold of her neck and angled her forward so he could capture her mouth and kiss her so hard she couldn’t think.
Then he reached out to brush her beaded nipples with his fingers, driving her around the bend. And when he put his hot mouth there and added more pressure, she thought she just might lose her mind.
The heat kicked on, adding more sweat to the process until it felt like the tropics and they were slippery as eels. The Christmas lights bathed them in a carousel of lights. Somewhere far, from outside the window, she heard the faint notes of “O Holy Night.”
He rocked his hips in time to her movements. She stared into his eyes, got lost in those chocolate depths.
His thrusts quickened, taking her higher and faster to a place she’d never been before. A whole new stratosphere. Visiting the International Space Station couldn’t be this exotic and exciting.
He filled her up, made her whole, and just before she was about to lose it, he said, “My turn on top.” He held her tight around the waist and in one smooth motion, flipped her over, all the while staying fully connected to her.
Remington slowed everything down. It was maddening, but wildly effective, making her want him more than she ever thought possible.
His self-assurance took her breath away. The man knew what he was doing. Their bodies undulating in a writhing rhythm as if dancing to unheard music. As he kissed her, their souls tied, bound, connected just as surely as their bodies.
Every nerve in her body was on fire as he drove her closer and closer to the edge. She thrashed against him, so badly wanting what his body had been promising for an hour.
His movements quickened. From slow to staccato, thrusting into her deeper, higher, faster. He was on a mission. Focused and trained. Primal and guttural. But no more primal than she.
Remington guided her legs over her head, opening her wide, entering her as deeply as possible, driving her relentlessly to oblivion.
“More,” she cried. “More, more, more.”
“Your wish is my command.”
“Harder,” she gasped. “Faster, faster. I’m almost there.”
Slow and leisurely was over. He was moving at warp speed now, thumping into her with a vigorous intensity that stole every last ounce of control from her.
And all she knew was humming.
She tasted it. Smelled it. Felt it. Heard it. Touched it. It was honey and treacle. Sticky and loud. It felt like the past slamming into the future and centered hard on the here and now.
They spun, twisted, turned, lost in the whirl of magic and passion, ensnared by mythology, lore, and the recklessness of amazing sex.
The orgasm was upon them both at once. His noises were as rough and husky as her own. Their bodies jerked in unison.
And as they fell together, they cried each other’s names over and over. And as she lay in Remington’s arms, Aria silently gave thanks for the Merry Cherub B and B and the whimsical magic of Christmas in Twilight.
“You never told me how you lost your fingers,” Aria said sometime later when they could breathe again. “You started when we were in Armadillo but we got sidetracked.”
Remington felt his body stiffen. It was a topic he avoided, and he didn’t want to take the shine off the moment by talking about his stupid hand.
But Aria had that determined set to her chin, the same one she’d had when she’d jumped out of his SUV to go help that family stranded on the road. The chin set that said he would not dissuade her.
“It was a HALO jump,” she said. “That’s as far as you got before.”
He closed his eyes and he was back in that plane, on the night he shouldn’t have been there without a solid backup plan. He fisted the three remaining fingers of his left hand as if he could protect them from the memory.
Aria curled against him, and he could feel her hair tickling his chest. He didn’t owe her an explanation, but he wanted her to know, to understand him a little better.
But why? Wasn’t that whacked? Shouldn’t he be distancing himself from her right now, not digging in deeper? Protecting his heart from getting sucked in by the tender feelings churning inside him. They weren’t a long-term match. Not a forever kind of fit. He knew that, and yet and yet . . .
“HALO jump, night run, dangerous as hell,” he said. “My day off, but someone got sick and I volunteered to take his place. We had intel on insurgents gathering forces in the mountain range that borders Pakistan. Our mission was simply, get in, neutralize the targets, and get out.”
She didn’t speak, instead stroked his chest hairs as if petting an agitated animal. Which maybe he was.
“The first chute didn’t open,” he said through clenched teeth. “And it got tangled up in the lines of the second chute. I reached up to untangle it and the last two fingers of my left hand got caught in the line and then the second chute didn’t open.”
“Oh no, you don’t have to say any more!” She plastered her palms over her ears and her eyes rounded to saucers. “I get the picture. But what kept you from hitting the ground entirely? Why are you even alive?”
“I landed in a pine tree. At the last minute the second chute deployed, but too late for a proper landing.” He rubbed the stump where his missing fingers used to be, felt the pain all over again. But the physical pain had been the least of it. Mental wounds were much tougher to heal, but he was working on it.
His dream? To open a retreat on the Silver Feather, where former military members who were struggling with PTSD could come for a place to heal—horses, fresh air, bodywork, yoga, tai chi, meditation. He was a long way off from that goal, but it’s what he wanted to do with the rest of his life.
He told Aria about it, mainly because he didn’t want to keep talking about his injury. It was over and done with. He’d had therapy, both physical and mental, and while healing was an ongoing process, he felt that sometimes too much talking could keep you trapped in the pain. Action. That’s what had helped Remington the most.
“Remy, that’s an amazing idea about the retreat.” She hugged him around the waist. “You should totally do it.”
Her enthusiasm warmed him. He’d broached the idea with his old man, but Duke had scoffed and said something about whiny, candy-ass millennials always needing their hands held. His harsh, controlling father was the reason Remington left Cupid twelve years ago and had stayed away except for those big family events like weddings and funerals and births of babies until the Army booted him on a medical discharge.
But he’d learned a few things since he’d been away. Mainly that life was short, and he would not let a petty tyrant direct his future. Duke was who he was. Remington’s mistake had been in telling his father about the retreat idea. His grandfather had left him land and a substantial trust. He didn’t need his father’s permission.
“You’ll be so good at that. You are so patient and empathetic.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.” She tickled his chin. “You have such a big heart, although you try to hide it through all that gruffness.”
His heart felt dangerously mushy.
The feelings scared him right down to his bones. He’d been in love before and Maggie had crucified him. With her, he’d let himself be vulnerable, and then she’d betrayed him in the most fundamental way, having an affair with his best friend when he was overseas. Yep, he was a cliché.
He’d been attracted to Maggie for her optimistic, bubbly nature. But she was too sunny for him. When she’d called to tell him that she’d had an affair with Joey, she’d told him she couldn’t stand being alone, that she needed care and attention that he just couldn’t give.
He’d dodged a bullet. Last he’d heard, Maggie was on husband number three. But that didn’t mean it hadn’t hurt like hell when she’d cheated on him.
Aria reminded him of Maggie in a lot of ways, both of them irrepressible and vivacious. Was that what appealed to him about her? Aria, like Maggie, balanced out his broody nature?
But like Maggie, Aria was also fickle. Jumping from one interest to the next. One guy to the next. Not making backup plans. As far as he knew, Aria had never had a serious relationship and she was in her midtwenties. Was it the capriciousness of youth, or a serious flaw in her character?
It’s not fair to paint her with the same brush as your ex.
“Remy,” she murmured.
“Yes?”
“I want you to know this time with you has been really special.”
“It has for me too.” His throat tightened and he felt a heaviness in his chest. Aww hell, what was this?
“I’m going to miss this when things go back to normal.”
He stroked her hair with his palm. There were so many things he wanted to say to her. Tell her that he didn’t want things to go back to normal. That he wanted their relationship to continue. He opened his mouth to say the words but then she said . . .
“Good thing you’re the kind of guy who knows how to compartmentalize.”
“Um . . . good thing,” he echoed.
“Neither one of us are the kind to get sentimental over sex. It’s just fun.”
“Fun,” he echoed.
“Could you imagine the two of us in a real relationship?” She laughed as she drew circles on his chest.
“Not even.”
“Me either.”
“But we sure know how to have a great time together.”
“We do.”
The feelings pushing up from his heart stalled in his throat. He wanted so badly to tell her how much he admired her. How, whenever she was around, the world seemed like a much nicer place. How impressed he was by her spontaneity and flexibility. He respected her idealism and her commitment to making the world a better place. He loved how she didn’t let setbacks and disappointments get her down. Loved her free spirit and how much she enjoyed life.
How he loved being with her.
But Remington said none of those things. He knew he wasn’t right for her. Knew his pessimism, rigidity, and adherence to the rules would only, over time, dim her bright light. And he wasn’t about to do anything that could wipe the shine off this beautiful butterfly.
Knowing he simply wasn’t good enough for her, he wrapped his arms around her, kissed her again, and made love to her one last time.
Chapter 19
Clutch: Slang for the “cut-away release handle,” which disconnects a malfunctioning main canopy by the simultaneous release of the riser connections to the harness.
At dawn, Aria woke with a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. Wedding days were always stressful, but there was something about today that had her feeling especially uneasy. She was pretty good at blowing off unsettling emotions, but a weird dread clung to her.
What was this all about?
It hit her then, when she realized the spot beside her in the bed was empty, what was causing her gloomy mood. Once the wedding was over, she and Remington would go back to their separate lives. No more road trysts. No more late-night spill sessions. No more fun adventures with him.
The Taylor Swift song “Shake It Off” filled her brain.
“Up and at ’em, woman,” Remington called to her from the bedroom floor, where he was doing push-ups. “It’s wedding day.”
Oh, there he was. He hadn’t run out on her.
“What are you doing?” Groggily, she peered over the end of the bed at him.
“Besides a short run in the park, I haven’t worked out since we left Cupid. I need to burn off some energy.”
“Didn’t we do that last night?” She laughed and swung out of bed.
“We did, but I need a structured workout.”
“Come with me this morning and I’ll give you all the workout you need.” She pushed her hair from her eyes. “But first, coffee. I need coffee.”
“I already brought up a carafe from the kitchen.” He nodded at the dresser. “Pastries too.”
“My, aren’t you Mr. Efficient?” She made a beeline for the carafe. “You light up my life, Lockhart.”
“Stick with me, babe, you’ll never have to get your own coffee again.” He finished his push-ups, stood, and dusted off his palms.
Their eyes met.
She wore nothing but a T-shirt and panties—his T-shirt, actually. He wore Wranglers and a snap-down blue western shirt that set off his tanned complexion.
Aria felt utterly naked.
Remington licked his lips.
“We have no time,” she whispered.
“I know.” But he kissed her, and her toes tingled and her mind looped.
He poured her a cup of coffee, with lots of cream and sugar, just the way she liked it and wrapped a paper napkin around a bear claw and handed it to her.
“You are a blessing,” she announced, perching at the little table near the window that had a view of the lake. But even the coffee, pastry, and Remington sitting beside her at the table couldn’t dispel this nagging feeling that something wasn’t right.
She turned on her phone to check her messages and there it was . . . a text from Caitlyn Garza at three-thirty in the morning.
Caitlyn: So sorry to bail on you, but Danny’s condition worsened during the night and they transferred him from the university infirmary to Presbyterian Hospital. Gideon and I took off for Dallas to be with him. Of course, I will refund all of Olivia’s money.
“Oh no.” Aria’s hand flew to her throat.
“What is it?” Remington asked, leaning across the table.
She showed him her phone with the text. “Caitlyn and Gideon’s son’s condition has worsened. They’re in Dallas.”
“The florist?”
“Yes, but please don’t say it.”
“Say what?” Remington arched his eyebrows.
Aria’s bottom lip trembled. “That I should have had a backup plan.”
Remington shrugged, but he had the good grace not to gloat.
Aria punched in Caitlyn’s cell phone number.
Caitlyn answered on the second ring. “Oh, Aria, I am so deeply sorry to bail on you.”
Aria tried her best to keep her disappointment out of her voice. There were more important things than weddings. “No apologies necessary. Your son comes first. I’m just calling to see how Danny is doing.”
“He has meningitis.” Caitlyn said it matter-of-factly, as if she had to get the words out quick before fear took hold of her and she couldn’t speak at all.
Aria sucked in her breath. “Oh my gosh, that’s terrible. I am so sorry, Caitlyn.”
“Th-thank you.”
Aria could hear the tears in Caitlyn’s voice. “You must be so scared.”
“Terrified.” Caitlyn hauled in a deep breath as if to steady herself. “But luckily, it’s viral meningitis and not bacterial like they first feared.”
Aria splayed a palm to her chest. “Thank heavens for that. It could have been so much worse.”
“Yes,” Caitlyn said. “We could have lost him. Viral meningitis is far less serious—it usually clears up on its own in seven to ten days. Bacterial meningitis is much more dangerous and faster moving. It’s the one that can be fatal if you don’t get antibiotics quickly enough.”
“I thought you said yesterday that the doctor suspected mono.”
“Initially Danny’s symptoms presented as mono, but when his bloodwork for that diagnosis came back clear, they kept testing.”
