Impact (6 page)

Chapter Ten

“How many layers are you going to put on?” Skip asked.

As many as it takes. Wren struggled with a second pair of socks.

“I’m cold,” she muttered, when in truth she was sweating. How was
she going to sleep next to him?

They had unzipped Jim’s sleeping bag they’d found in his survival kit and had it laying like a comforter over the cushions that would keep the cold from the ground seeping from the metal of the plane into them. It was actually quite cozy. Over the sleeping bag was a Mylar blanket they weren’t going to need.

Wren couldn’t find another reason to postpone going to bed. She lay next to him, their shoulders and hips touching due to the slope of the plane underneath them. Her nerve endings sizzled to life, laying the length of him. She tried to move, giving him space, but no matter what she did she ended up touching him.

“Are you going to squirm all night?”

She didn’t bother answering him. She just might.

“I’m going to turn off the light.”

“Okay.” She hated that her voice sounded timid. She could do this.

“Wren, relax.”

The light clicked out and darkness closed in.

Right. Like that was going to happen. She clutched the covers to her chin. With the darkness, her other senses picked up on the whistle and moan of the wind, the heavy splattering of the snow in its attempt to bury the plane from sight. Skip’s long even breaths, and her choppy ones.
How could he be so relaxed?

“We can’t go to bed mad at each other,” Skip said.

“We’re not married.” She wanted to retract the words as soon as she said them.

“And whose fault is that?”

“You arrested me.”

“Get over it.” He turned toward her and lifted up on his elbow. “You left me with no choice.”

“I was entitled.”

“Entitled didn’t make it right.”

“You knew what he’d done.”

“I still couldn’t let you take the law into your own hands.”

“Nobody was punishing my dad, and he killed my mother.”

“Wren—”

“No, you know it, and I know it. The whole village knew why she did what she did.” Wren still saw her mom’s lifeless body, having been the one to find her beaten and bruised and dead. “She took all those sleeping pills because she couldn’t escape him any other way.”

“It was still her choice. Your dad didn’t feed them to her.”

“He might as well have.”

“It wasn’t your call to make, Wren.”

She knew he was right. He’d been right at the time to take the shovel away from her before she bashed in her father’s head. As it was, he’d let her wail on her father’s prized truck longer than he’d needed to, before restraining her. She’d been over all this in therapy.

So much therapy.

“Wren, I’m on your side here. If I could have arrested your father and thrown his ass in jail, I would have gladly done so. But you were the one who broke the law.”

Yeah, and her old man had pressed charges, more concerned over his precious truck and who was going to pay for the damages than the suicide of his wife and meltdown of his daughter.

He was free of both of them now.

“So . . . what is he up to now?”

Skip didn’t pretend to know what she was asking. “Same. Drinking, fishing, drinking more. At least, the women of the village steer clear of him. He’s alone. Fitting punishment if you ask me. Life without you a part of it is hell.”

Her heart thumped. Did he mean his life was hell because she wasn’t in it?

“Yes, Wren, that’s exactly what I mean.”

Again. What was with her? It was like she didn’t have control of herself. Speaking her mind like this without being aware of it was disconcerting to say the least.

Silence lengthened between them again. She understood it was up to her to make the next move.

Skip wasn’t going to.

If she wanted to be with him, it was up to her to let him know. But did she want that? Who was she kidding? That’s all she’d ever wanted. She’d always been too scared to reach for happiness. When she was a kid, anything she took a fancy to her father destroyed. Skip was the only person he hadn’t driven off. Skip wasn’t afraid.

She needed to stop being afraid.

“How’s the arm?” she softly asked.

“Bearable.”

“Bearable enough?”

He groaned. “Wren, don’t tease me.”

“You used to like it when I teased you.”

He dragged in a heavy breath. “Don’t toy with me.” There was a pleading quality to his voice that had the knotted strin
gs around her heart unraveling.

She turned on her side to see him better.  “What do you want from me?”

His eyes glowed with intent in the snow-lit evening. “Everything.”

She didn’t want to hurt him. She’d already hurt him more than she expected forgiveness for. “Skip,” she whispered.

That’s all it took. He reached for her, cradling her head in his palm as his mouth captured hers. He groaned as she curled into him, fully aligning their bodies. They’d always fit together so well. Her breath caught, and she became dizzy from the intense rush of feeling and emotions unleashed.

“Wren, baby, why oh why did you put on so many layers?”

A giggle escaped her, and suddenly everything felt right. For the first time in years, things felt right. His hand snaked under her three shirts and found her skin. “You’re so hot.”

“Hot as is ‘hot’ or hot as in heat?”

“Hot. You’ve always been too hot to handle.” His fingers flicked open her bra. “You had to sleep with this on too.”

“I needed everything I could think of.”

He pulled back. “Are you sure about this?”

She met his eyes, his searching. “Yes, Skip.” To prove it to him, she sat up and lifted off the sweatshirt, followed by the long-sleeved t-shirt, and finally the undershirt.

An animalistic sound escaped him as she tossed off her bra.

His one good hand shook as he cupped her breast. “Such beauty.” He lifted and took a nipple into his mouth, making her arch into him. It was her turn to express a wild noise. Little pulls contracted her nether regions as his mouth sucked her nipple, lightly at first then harder, flattening the nub to the roof of his mouth. A long drawn out moan followed. He released her and recaptured her mouth, as though he couldn’t decide where he wanted to be most. His hand continued to tweak her nipples, one minute cupping her breast the other molding the mounds and intermittingly flicking his thumb over the sensitive tips and rolling them between his fingers.

“God, I need two hands. I need to touch more of you.”

No, she needed to touch him.

“Touch away,” Skip said.
“I’m all yours, baby.”

She didn’t mind so much that her words had escaped her this time. With a smile, she undid the buttons of his shirt and inch-by-inch revealed those taut muscles she hadn’t allowed herself to explore earlier.

“Skip, you are
...
magnificent.”

“And here I thought you hadn’t noticed.”

“Oh, I noticed.”

“I had to do something to work off my sexual frustrations while you were away.”

Had he not indulged with other women?

“They weren’t you.”

Okay, she really needed to curb her tongue. She’d already revealed more than she was comfortable with.

He must have felt her unease for he kissed her again. Thoughts flew out of her head, leaving it empty of everything but him. She’d wanted this for so long. His arms around her, his body pressing into hers.

His fingers unbuttoned her pants, slid down the zipper, and found her. Heat infused her as his finger slipped along her folds, tested her readiness, before diving into her.

Holy Mother of Pearl, it wasn’t going to take anything to make her come.

Just a few strokes of his fingers deep inside her, and a few flicks of his thumb against her that ultrasensitive pa
rt of her, and she was soaring.

Chapter Eleven

Skip cursed his broken arm.

He needed inside her. Now. This one-handed situation sucked. He wanted to lift her, position her, hold her tight, as he pounded into her. It wasn’t enough to have his fingers inside her.

He needed more.

Then she came apart, her nails digging into him, her pelvis grinding down on his hand.

Oh, shit.

He clamped down on his own excitement at watching her pleasure, or he was going to come in his pants. He hadn’t felt like this since high school.  He tensed, counted to ten, twenty, a hundred, recited the star spangled banner, while she floated back to him.

Her eyes opened and met his, and he caught his breath.

She still cared.

But could she still love him?

Then she was kicking off her pants, fully naked except her double layers of socks, and his heart stopped at the goddess picture she made. Soft and curvy, so much more mature than the last time he’d been naked with her. The drugs had kept her skinny with bones protruding from her ribs and hips. How he wanted to explore this new body of lushness. His mouth watered and he reached for her, and she was there, her hands tearing at his jeans. She grabbed his erection. He hollered with pleasure so intense it pained him to stop her.

“Wren, I won’t last.” Then her mouth was over him, her tongue sliding down his rigid length, swallowing him, sucking, he grabbed her head, burying his hand in her hair, twisting, trying to
pull her off him before he...

Oh, God.

He hollered her name, his hips thrusting into her mouth as she took him, all of him. The night bloomed with iridescence as he exploded.

He lay there, stunned with his inability to control his own body. He’d never lost himself like that.
He’d wanted to be inside her.

“Technically, you were,” she sa
id her voice husky and pleased.

Had he voiced that?

“Yep. Guess I’m not the only one who has a problem with that.”

He chuckled. This is a new development. What other new things did he get to experience with her?

She slowly crawled up his body, her tongue licking his abs.

His penis twitched, hardened with a new rush of blood. Hallelujah. One good thing about abstinence, he was good to go again. He groaned as her mouth traveled up his ribs, took his nipple into her mouth and teased. She was so expressive, wild yet with a balance of calm he hadn’t seen in her before. She was the same but more. So much more he wanted to explore.

“How’s the arm?” she asked, her teeth closing over the vein in his neck.

“What arm?”

She gave a husky laugh that had him twitching again, reaching for her. She slid over him, parted her thighs, and hovered. Her eyes met his and stayed focused on him in the bluish light of the storm as she slowly, ever so slowly, took him inside the glorious heat of her delectable body.

He gave a long drawn out groan as she took him as deeply as her body would allow. Her eyes shuddered closed as she rose above him and leisurely began to ride him.

He watched in awe at the magnificence of her. Her long black hair trailed down her back, falling forward over her shoulders, over her breasts, to graze his stomach. Such glorious globes of perfection bounced as her hips picked up speed. His hand clutched her hip, and how he wished he could grab both, somehow take control of her movements, but she was in control.

She took him, rode him, devastated him. Her hips gyrated faster, her breathing choppy, as long drawn out cry filled the plane in perfect harmony with the roar of the wind. She was one with Mother Nature. Bringing the forcefulness and beauty of the storm raging outside, inside to consume him. He was all hers to do with as she wanted. He shouted as he gave himself over to her, embraced the rightness of belonging to her, becoming one with her. Her scream of completeness followed, and then she folded in on him, collapsing over him like liquid heat. His broken arm was bumped.

He felt no pain as pleasure wrapped him up in her blissful blanket.