finding Reese.: a SAFELIGHT novel vol.2 (SAFELIGHT Series) Read online

  “I’m just worried about a lot of things, Stryder. Your trip . . . Jackson . . . us . . .”

  Stryder kisses my temple and says, “I’m worried too, Catalina. I have the same concerns, but you need to know that while I’m away I’ll think of you every waking second, and I’ll be counting the days until I can return home. I love you, babe.”

  I sigh happily because I know I will be doing the same thing; missing and thinking about him every minute. Rising, I wrap my fingers around the hem of my sweater and pull it over my head. Stryder straightens his posture, his eyes darkening with need. Unhooking the clasp of my bra, I let the straps slip from my shoulders as I bare my breasts to the man I adore.

  Stryder’s strong hands take hold of my waist, pulling me forward, his mouth kissing the skin of my abdomen. At first his kisses are measured, but when my hands clutch his hair, urging him lower, the more hurried they become.

  “I love you, Catalina,” Stryder declares against my heated skin.

  Swallowing hard, I reply, “And I you. Make love to me. Please.”

  His deft fingers trace the skin above the waistband of my jeans, and with each touch my body trembles. My breasts feel heavy, and both nipples harden as every square inch of my body flushes with heat. I’m covered with goose bumps under his tender touch. One of his hands undoes the button of my jeans while the other slowly lowers my zipper.

  Nuzzling his head into my belly button, he breathes, “I will have so many memories of you to hold me over while I’m gone, but your soft, silken skin is one of the many things I’ll miss the most.”

  He slowly pulls my jeans past my ankles and throws them on the floor. Stryder rises, his large hands framing my face, and our gazes meet for the briefest of moments. I know what he sees in mine, but it shocks me to see the same fears, worries and insecurities reflecting in his.

  I rise on tippy toes, and kiss him with all that I have. I push past the opening of his mouth, tangling my tongue with his, and he responds with equal fervor; he commands the kiss, every so often giving a sexy growl. Both of his hands slip under the waistband of my panties to gently squeeze my ass, all while pulling me closer to him.

  I let out a whimper of my own, delighted with his affections and majorly turned-on at the same time. I feel the shapeliness of his well-defined body through his clothing, and my hands waste no time tucking underneath his shirt to feel the definition of his sweltering skin. As soon as I touch his abs, I gently trace my fingernails up and down, side to side over them, and let out a moan which reflects the desire blossoming in my belly. Mimicking his movements, I let my hands roam underneath the waistband of his jeans, making sure to tuck them underneath the fabric of his boxer shorts, and squeeze his glutes which are hard and oh-so-very-shapely. Kneading and squeezing them, I let my fingernails scratch them slightly. With each affection, Stryder groans into my mouth, and I reciprocate with a moan−or two−of my own.

  Removing my hands from his pants, I unbuckle his belt, pulling it sharply from the belt loops, and throwing it on the floor. The clunk against the hardwood floor is an unequivocal symbol of our need for each other. My fingers undo the button of his jeans, and before I lower the zipper, I make it a point to gently cup and squeeze his cock, feeling its unmistakable hardness and thickness.

  Stryder lets out a ragged sigh, and I’m not so far behind. I break our kiss, and then lower my heels to stand at my normal height. His hands find their way through my ponytail, and he tugs on the elastic, freeing my long black waves to tickle the dimples at the lowest part of my back. His fingers scratch my scalp softly, and his deep chuckle elicits a smile.

  “Mmm,” I mumble, unable to formulate a coherent thought.

  Stryder looks down at me, his teeth worrying his bottom lip. I can see so much in those eyes of his, and gosh, I’m at a loss here. How am I going to wake up each morning for the next month and not have Stryder beside me? How am I going to go to bed each night without feeling his loving embrace, his tender kisses heating my skin? Who am I kidding here? It blows my mind how I could have survived for four years without a single kiss or touch. The past few months, I’ve been spoiled rotten with love and affection, so badly that I can’t imagine my life without them.

  My chest fills with sorrow, and I know if I don’t distract myself soon, Stryder will end up mopping my tears instead of making love to me. I can’t let him know his upcoming departure has me tied up in knots, and I hate myself for being so weak and needy after being independent and strong for all these years.

  Determined not to ruin our remaining time together, I focus on us, on our bodies, and lose myself in his gaze. I pull on the hem of his shirt and bring it over his head, tossing it across the room. His jeans and boxer shorts quickly follow, joining the remainder of our clothes on the floor. Standing before him in nothing but my panties, I push him onto the bed.

  Like climbing a tree, I hover over him, and with both of my knees cemented to the bed, I plant my throbbing pussy over his face. I look down to him with pleading eyes. Without breaking my gaze, Stryder hooks his deft fingers underneath the elastic of my panties, pulling the fabric aside to reveal my pussy, while the other takes possessive hold of my waist.

  Stryder cranes his head forward, and his warm, wet tongue licks my throbbing clit. He latches on, sucking and nibbling the tender spot of my center. I moan in pleasure, throwing my head back and closing my eyes in ecstasy as I ride his face without shame or restraint. His hand leaves my waist and gently tugs on my hair, making me moan. I extend my arms behind me, and my fingernails scratch his abdomen and chest as my frenzy grows. God, this is Heaven and I don’t want him to stop.

  His tongue laps my pussy and he tongue-fucks me until I unravel like a spool of thread over him, calling his name, and sagging against his face in sweet surrender. Coming down from my high, I bring my head forward and meet his loving gaze. As our eyes connect, I’m greeted with a smug, satisfied smile while his strong hands push me down his sculpted torso and washboard abs until I’m straddling his mid-section.

  Stryder rolls his hips and that movement alone makes us moan with satisfaction. He hooks one of his hands on the elastic band of my panties while the other pulls against the fabric tightly. The sound of ripped cloth shatters the tranquility in the room, and when he brings the tattered panties to his face to smell them, my eyes meet his scandalized. That unexpected gesture makes me kiss him feverishly, a kiss that could start a fire with its intensity alone. My quivering hand grabs his throbbing length and positions it towards my entrance. I slide myself slowly onto his cock, loving how every delicious inch of him fills the most intimate parts of me.

  Once he is completely sheathed in me, Stryder hisses. Deep within my core, I feel his cock twitch repeatedly. I roll my hips in circles, and the pleasured groans he releases delight me. Reaching for one of his legs, I bend it slightly to tilt his body towards mine until we are scissored against each other. The penetration is exquisite; we couldn’t be closer if we wanted to. Lost in my blatant need for Stryder, I ride him hard, the sounds of our wet flesh and panting breaths echoing loudly in the room.

  Stryder’s groans and grunts grow louder with each of my thrusts. Neither of us says a single word; our bodies are doing all the talking for us. Need and love mix together as we lose ourselves in this moment. His hands hold me in place, squeezing, grabbing, kneading, scratching, and his eyes connect with mine in awe and wonder.

  His cheeks are reddened, and our movements bring us to a blissful sweat. I’m lost in his arms, sheltered by his love, and oh my God, I never want to let go of him. Laying my head in the crook of his neck, I can taste the salty sweetness of his skin mixed with his cologne. One of his fingers traces the outline of my lips, and I bring it into my mouth to suck and bite it.

  “I love you, Cat,” Stryder whispers gruffly, as his free hand lands on the small of my back, guiding my movements.

  His words fill me with a happiness I can’t describe. I’m nearing nirvana with the man who loves me more than I c
ould possibly love myself. There’s something primal to this kind of lovemaking; don’t get me wrong, we’ve been at it like bunnies since our first time in Mayrhofen, but there’s something different this time around. It’s like we’re one soul divided into two bodies, two hearts bound by love, and two like-minded people loving the heck out of each other.

  One more thrust is all it takes for me to come. I gasp his name against his shoulder, my teeth scraping his skin as the aftershocks of the best orgasm of my life tremble through me. Stryder quickly follows, grunting my name and pouring his essence inside me for the first time. There’s no space for worry or fear, only happiness and bliss, and there’s nothing more gratifying than to be claimed mind, body, and soul by the one you love with every cell in your body.

  I BLOW ON MY STEAMING mug of hot chocolate and reflect on the recent and most heartbreaking period of my life. I still hear in my head the shrilling cries of Rem and Chris when they were sucked under the avie that took their lives and almost robbed me of mine. I feel the ground tremble beneath me, and my skin prickles in response to my memories of that horrifying day. I wish I could go back in time and make the call to abort the run. I should’ve listened to my gut, but it’s too late to change the past. I will have to live with this guilt for the rest of my life.

  As I stand by the large picture window that shows off the most incredible view of the Casper Mountains I feel an indescribable sadness in my chest. Feelings of utter despair and hopelessness overcome me. There’s a huge part of me that wants to ignore the doc’s orders to rest and complete my rehabilitation, yet the other knows I need to wait before I can grab my board to do the one thing I know will make me happy again. Drinking is no longer an option.

  I close my eyes and imagine shredding a line with my boots firmly planted on my favorite board. I try to crouch in front of the window like I normally do when I’m about to hit big air, but my legs rattle and hurt. I understand coping with this pain is part of the healing process, and knowing my body is betraying me truly pisses me off. I feel like a complete failure right now, broken beyond repair. Opening my eyes, I exhale loudly and a bunch of motherfucking bad words leave my mouth.

  I have half a mind to throw my mug on the floor, but when I think about having to get on all fours to clean it up, the urge quickly fades. My thoughts return to that terrible day and the painful reminder that Chris and Rem are dead consumes me. My memories of them and the good times we had trekking the globe on our boards will stay with me until the day I die. It’s tough trying to move forward and heal when I battle with myself over why I was given a second chance and they weren’t.

  Catalina is right. A part of me believes it wasn’t my fault and Mother Nature played the bigger role here, but when I hear Rob’s warning echo in my head over and over again like a broken record, it’s hard to not blame myself. While a part of me wants to pack my bag and take the snowmobile to the small slope on my property to test Mother Nature, the other worries I won’t be able to snowboard ever again.

  I take another sip of my hot chocolate and sit on the reclining chair positioned by the window. My legs can’t handle the weight of my body for more than five minutes at a time, and I hate that I’ve become so frail. I’m too young to feel like this, but when I think I could’ve shared the guys’ fate a cold shiver of awareness rolls through me. I know recovery takes time, because I’ve sustained minor injuries over the years, mainly broken bones, and a sprained wrist here and there, though nothing to this degree.

  I know broken bones mend and heal with time, but my head? I don’t think it’ll ever get better. I just hate having to sit on a fucking couch and talk to a person who will never understand me because they weren’t there that day. As I sit on the recliner, I bring my hand to my head, trying to soothe the throbbing inside of it. These headaches are crippling, more so than the pain in my ankles and legs.

  Abandoning the chair, I stand and limp towards my room, and with shaky hands I open the pill bottle on my nightstand. Popping a couple into my mouth I take a large sip of water from a bottle, and plop myself on the bed. I’m supposed to see Dr. B. tonight, but don’t think I have it in me. I just want to sleep, to numb the memories and the screaming voices of Chris and Rem inside of my head. I need this madness to stop.

  I know I was spared for a reason, but I don’t know what the reason is, and the truth is I don’t think I’ll ever know. My life as I knew it is over. I feel this overwhelming sense of guilt for living, and for a guy who has lived so high on motherfucking life, I can’t even stand straight on my two legs, let alone be the redeemed Olympic champion the world saw in me a little over eight weeks ago.

  As the effects of the pain medication spreads through my body, I feel the madness in my head calm down. My body feels numb, kind of like when I used to get plastered, and for now that helps me relax. It doesn’t take long before I don’t have the power to think anymore, and I’m fast asleep like the dead. No memories, no nightmares just me, alone in the darkness, buried by the burden of the pain I’m living.

  A warm set of hands touch my face, and I’m woken up by Catalina’s kind voice.

  “Jax?” she whispers.

  My eyes flutter open, and I raise my arms over my head to stretch them. Despite having a slight fog in the head, I feel well-rested and in better spirits than when I went to sleep. I slowly sit up in bed and rub my eyes, all in between yawns. As my eyes adjust to the dim lighting, I smile.

  I like these moments when I wake up. I have about three minutes of peace, as my body warms up and gets geared for whatever life has in store for me. Three minutes where my brain and my heart don’t connect. Three minutes of momentary bliss. But as soon those three minutes are up and my mind connects with my heart and soul, I’m screwed. The images, memories, and everything that has tormented me since the avalanche bring me to my motherfucking knees.

  I reflect back on yesterday, which was yet another bad day in the on-going list of shitastic ones I’ve had since the avalanche, where once again Catalina was on the receiving end of my frustrations.

  “Jackson, you can’t cancel any more of your appointments. How will you snowboard again if you don’t follow through with your physical therapy?” she warns.

  “Listen, Catalina. I appreciate you being around and stuff, but stop harassing me over the goddamn appointments! It’s my body, my choice. You’re not my fucking mother! Jesus Christ!”

  As soon as those words left me I regretted them. I know Catalina is the last person in the world to deserve my anger. But I’m too proud, and I’m definitely a pussy for not apologizing when I fuck up. If she ever slaps me hard across the face I wouldn’t put up a fight because I know better than anyone I deserve it. Instead, she always smiles, not once losing her cool despite my shit attitude.

  I’ll admit having Catalina around has made this recovery process easier, even though I’ve been a total asshole to her. I’ve pushed her away, yelled at her, treated her like I don’t give three shits about her, yet she stays put, not losing her patience, loving and caring for me, and showing me the hard way I’m loved and worthy of everything. Deep down I know it’s the depression talking, and mix that with the meds and the terrible pangs of pain in my legs, I’m one giant cluster-fuck of a mess.

  “Jax?” her soft voice beckons again. I turn my head to face her, and raise one of my hands to cover hers.

  “Hey,” I reply, my voice raspy and dry. Just another side effect of the stupid meds. I reach out for the glass of water beside me, and chug it down.

  Grabbing my empty glass, Catalina says, “Dr. Badcocke is here. I called his office to see if he could come over when I stopped by to check on you earlier. I noticed you were out like a light and figured you might cancel on him which I won’t allow again. He’s waiting for you in the gym.”

  I nod and sit on the edge of the mattress. As soon as I stand, I feel woozy and my ass lands back on the bed. “Whoa. Stop the world.”

  Catalina crouches in front of me, her worried eyes scanning t
he nightstand. She bites her inner cheek, and asks, “Jax, how many pills did you take?”

  I give her the are-you-fucking-kidding-me look. I know I’ve been low, but things haven’t gotten out of control. I inhale deeply, trying to think my words through.

  “Just the two I’m supposed to take, Cat. I think I didn’t eat well before taking them. Come to think of it, all I’ve had to eat today was the grilled chicken salad and the creepy-looking, good-tasting juice you made . . .”

  Pardo tuts and shakes her head at me, and I reply by sticking out my tongue. She flips me two middle fingers with a ‘blow me’ look on her face.

  “Okay, Jax. You can’t do that, because these meds are like horse tranquilizers, and they will shred your stomach lining. You have to eat, babe.”

  I nod, feigning annoyance. She ignores me, and offers her hand. Once my hand is wrapped around hers, we walk towards the gym where Dr. B is waiting for me. As we walk through the doorway, Jupiter meets us and trades places with Cat.

  “You okay there? You look a little green, buddy,” he asks with a worried look on his face. I’m not going to lie. I feel like tossing my goddamn cookies.

  Taking large gulps of air, I tell him, “Dipshit here forgot to eat before taking his pills. Bleh.”

  Jupiter chuckles softly, and walks slowly beside me guiding my steps. I look over my shoulder to make sure Cat is out of earshot. “Dude, she has been freaking out over you leaving. She’s worried.”

  He sighs, and I know he’s feeling like shit about it. “Make sure you keep an eye on her while I’m gone. I’m a mess myself because I keep reliving the bullshit I went through with Oli. I have half a mind to cancel the assignment altogether. Mom says it’s a good idea to go back to work so . . .”

  I stop dead in my tracks and turn to face him. “Lizzie put you up to this?” Lizzie has never been the kind of parent who meddles with anyone’s lives, so hearing him say that is weird.