Eighteen

Lily’s sexy moan sent a fresh surge of arousal through Dax’s body. The afternoon had been great and now here she was, so feminine and sexy in that pretty shirt, letting him know she wanted him.

Still kissing her, he eased her back to lie on the rug, and leaned over her. He moved from her mouth down her neck, tonguing the rapid beat of her pulse in the hollow at the base of her throat.

Her fingers tangled in his hair and she pressed herself against his mouth.

He continued down her body, rolling the flimsy shirt above her breasts so he could suck the hard nubs of her nipples through her blue tank top. With lips and tongue, he teased the bare flesh between the bottom of the tank and the low waistband of her stretchy black pants. He circled her navel then eased the waistband down her flat belly, following it with his tongue, dragging her panties along for the ride. He tugged the clothes off her slim legs, legs toned from running and self-defense workouts.

So she thought she could take him if he was off guard, did she? That touch of physical cockiness from his refined wife was damned sexy. One day they’d have a mock battle and he’d let her take him down, just to see what she’d do then.

His cock thrust painfully inside his jeans, but he ignored its demand as he kissed his way up those long legs. Vaguely, he was aware of the music ending, but who needed it when he had the crackle of the fire and Lily’s soft whimpers and moans?

He could tell so much about her without her speaking a word. Those little sounds telegraphed her growing arousal, as did the twist and thrust of her hips. He knew she’d applied body lotion after her shower from the subtle orange-almond scent of her skin. The fullness of her pussy lips and the glisten of moisture on them said she was hungry for his touch.

She stretched sinuously. “This feels so good, being naked in front of the fire.”

“Looks mighty good too.” The firelight cast ever-changing patterns of light and shadow over her pale, supple body.

His own body felt more than a little overheated, thanks to his arousal and the fire. He stripped off his clothes and breathed a sigh of relief when his cock sprang free.

Lily watched, hands stacked behind her head. “Now that’s a nice picture.”

“Not as nice as this one.” With firm hands, he parted her legs so firelight illuminated the glistening pink folds of her sex. He eased down on the rug and teased her with his fingers, lips, and tongue, taking his time. Prolonging release—hers and his own—made for more intense orgasms.

He pumped two fingers in and out of her moist heat, finding a rhythm that set her hips to twisting, then easing back when her body tightened like she was ready to come. He flicked her clit with his tongue, circled it.

“Dax, wait.”

When he lifted his head, she slid out from under him, then turned around and slid back the other way. Now, rather than facing up her body, his head pointed toward her toes. And his genitals were inches from her face.

She grasped his engorged cock and guided it between her lips, licking the crown and around the shaft, sucking him in. Heat, moisture, and pressure, licks and sucks that made his blood surge. Now she took his balls in her soft, persistent fingers.

“God, Lily, that feels good.” He buried his face between her legs again, taking up where he’d left off, but with a new urgency. Her mouth on his cock and the gentle pressure of her fingers caressing his balls drove him to the edge. As wonderful as they felt, he didn’t want to climax like this. He wanted to be inside Lily—but not until she came once for him.

His fingers pumped faster, brushing the sweet spot that made her quiver. He licked and sucked her clit more intently, not easing off now.

Her body tensed and she stopped sucking his cock, just held it in her mouth as she focused on the sensations gathering inside her.

Then he took her over the top and she clutched and spasmed around his fingers, pulsing against his mouth. He kept caressing her, slowly and more gently, prolonging her orgasm until the last ripples faded.

His cock was rigid and it took a lot of self-control not to pump inside her hot, wet mouth, but he managed it. When her tongue circled his shaft again, he eased away.

“Dax?” Lily gazed at him questioningly.

He came up on his knees. “I want to be inside you.”

“I won’t argue with that.” She held up her arms.

He came down over her, enjoying the way she gathered him in and held him. She raised her knees, tilting her pelvis, and he reached between their bodies to open her lush folds and slide himself inside. Her internal muscles gripped him. They moved together in a slow, pulsing rhythm, each thrust taking him one beat closer to the edge. He rolled, taking her with him, so they lay on their sides facing each other. Her top leg hooked over his hip as she slid closer, taking him deeper.

Her eyes gleamed in the firelight, a darker blue than usual. He bumped his nose against hers, winning a soft laugh, then took her lips. As they kissed, as their bodies pumped together, he teased her nipple, rolling it between finger and thumb, feeling tiny shudders go through her.

Those shudders pulsed through him too, and the need to climax built irresistibly. He caressed the dip of her waist, the curve of her hip, then moved to her clit. Gently, he rolled it the way he’d done her nipple.

She broke away from his kiss to gasp, “Oh Dax! Oh God, that’s nice.”

His balls tightened and drew up as his body readied for climax. When Lily began to quake, he let himself go, plunging deep and hard. “God, Lily.”

“Oh!” she gasped, then “oh yes!” on a rising cry as she came, shuddering and pulsing around him.

They held each other until the last tiny quiver faded. He kissed her. “There’s something to be said for the old-fashioned way.”

Her lips curved. “Sometimes classic is best.”

When he separated his body from hers, she rolled onto her back and stretched, then sat up, wrapping her arms around her bent knees. “The fire could use wood.”

“I was busy tending a different one.” He pushed himself to his feet.

“Very efficiently, I must say.”

He poked what remained of the fire until a few embers burst into flame, and added a couple more pieces of wood.

Meanwhile, Lily went to the downstairs bathroom. When she returned, she pulled on her clothes. “I’m hungry. Let’s get that picnic organized.”

“Good idea.” He dressed too, and followed her to the small kitchen.

She was opening cupboards, assembling plates, glasses, cutlery, so he put the snacks on a serving tray. When he took the loaf of French bread from its bag and reached for a cutting board, she turned to get something and bumped into him. “Oops, sorry,” she said. “I’m used to being alone in the kitchen, since you’re away so much.”

Before thinking, he responded, “If there was a reason to be home, maybe I’d be there more.”

Her eyes narrowed. “It’s my fault you’re not home? And, by the way, I didn’t say that as an accusation, just a statement of fact. Your job keeps you away most of the time.”

It sounded like an accusation, but he kept his voice even. “I thought you supported me doing bush flying.”

She nodded slowly. “I remember when we first talked about it. You were getting out of the army and you were sick of war, chafing under the discipline of the military. You wanted to fly”—a smile flickered—“somewhere free and pure, you said. In our northern wilderness, not in a war-torn desert. And you wanted to be your own boss. I saw how excited you were about being a freelance bush pilot, Dax. I didn’t realize how much you’d be away, but even if I had, how could I not support you? I was establishing my practice, you were setting up your own business, both of us doing work we loved. It seemed like we were on parallel courses.”

He nodded, then said, “Parallel,” and weighed the word. “Parallel paths don’t touch.”

She blinked. “You’re right. That’s what’s happened to us, isn’t it?” A worry line creased her forehead.

Parallel paths; two people who’d lost their trust in each other and maybe lost their love as well. No wonder she was frowning. But this was better than where they’d been a week ago. “But we’re together now.” He smoothed the line out with his thumb. “And there’s lots to talk about, I guess.” He turned away and took the bottle of pink champagne from the fridge. “Alcohol will probably help, right?”

She sighed. “Yes. And food. Just because today’s been so nice, it doesn’t mean we’ve solved all our problems. Or,” she added under her breath, “any of them.”

“I heard that. And you’re right.” This was why he liked nature; the problems were concrete and he dealt with them by action. Could talking resolve the mess they’d made of their marriage? He could arrange his jobs to have more time back in Vancouver, but would Lily ever slow down at work so they could spend that time together? And then there was the elephant in the room, the thing they’d avoided talking about since Christmas Day: whether they still loved each other. None of the talking would count for much if they couldn’t recapture the love.

The woman she’d been this afternoon . . . He could so easily love that Lily. Yet she was also the driven doctor who rarely had time for him. How could he give his heart to that woman?

Lily shook her head briskly. “No, I won’t be negative.”

And that was a good attitude. He stroked her smooth forearm. “Me either.”

She put her hand over his. “Here’s an idea, Dax. Rather than starting at the end—with the issues that are stressful to even think about, that are red flags for us—what if we go back to the beginning?”

Yeah, the red-flag subjects only led to arguments. Intrigued, he cocked his head. “How d’you mean?”

“Let’s talk about when we first got together. Who we were, what we wanted. How our relationship developed.”

“That’s not a bad idea.” It’d give perspective, and a reminder of how they’d fallen in love. She used to find time for him, find joy in being with him. If she remembered how much fun that was, maybe she’d want to do it again.

They carried their meal into the cozy living room and spread it on the battered wooden coffee table. Lily hunted through the CDs while Dax tended the fire. He always enjoyed poking logs, seeing sparks flare, inhaling the scent of burning wood. It was a cozy, homey thing, a real wood fire.

“Madonna?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“I played this ‘Ray of Light’ album a million times in twelfth grade.”

Lily had suggested they start at the beginning. “You’re not saying you want to start with high school?” He eased the cork from the bottle of Pol Roger rosé. They’d splurged on French champagne.

“Back when you didn’t even look at me?” she teased.

“I looked, but your nose was so high in the air you never noticed.”

“I was not a snob, Dax Xavier!” She stuck her hands on her hips and gave him a mock glare.

“Hanging out with your ritzy friends, doing your intellectual stuff like chess club and debate club?”

“I’d been friends with those kids all through school, chess was challenging, and I hoped debate club would help me argue more effectively with my parents.”

“Your parents don’t engage in debates.” He handed her a glass of peach-colored champagne, fizzing with tiny bubbles. “They steamroll over the opposition.” Too late, he remembered that he’d decided to back off on the hot button issues like her parents, but luckily she didn’t jump down his throat over it.

Instead, she said wryly, “That does pretty much describe it. Kim said the same about her parents, though they’ve proven to be more flexible than mine.”

“Maybe she’ll give you some tips.”

“I think mine are more stubborn. Anyhow, forget about them.” She raised her glass. “To us. To talking and . . . trying.”

He clicked his glass against hers, and they both took a sip.

“See?” she said. “Pink bubbly is perfect for our fireside picnic.”

“It’s good. Makes me think of summer. Be nice to drink this on an outdoor picnic in the sun, with a touch of breeze.”

“Consuming alcohol in a public place? Risky.”

He winked. “Who said anything about a public place?” He lowered himself to the braided rug. “You’re married to a pilot. I could have us in the middle of nowhere in less than an hour. Would milady prefer an alpine meadow full of lupine and poppies, or the shore of a little lake that doesn’t even have a name?”

Her face lit. “That sounds incredible. Why have we never done that?” She pulled a few cushions off the couch, tossed them down, and joined him.

He bit back the obvious answer: Because you’re always so freaking busy. Trying to be more diplomatic, he said, “Too busy, I guess. Other priorities?”

“I suppose. Our lives always have been busy. And separate. Those parallel courses.”

“Yeah, since the end of that first summer.” He and Lily were such different people, but that was okay, both of them having interests they were passionate about. In the beginning, it had worked. “We used to make time to get together though, and those times were great.”

“They were.”

“And we’re together now, having fun. That’s a good sign.”

“Right.” She flashed a smile, but he saw uncertainty in her eyes.

Was he crazy to think that one weekend getaway could rekindle their love? That the embers still burned, steady and true, ready to leap into flame again? Could this time together be enough to convince her that he—that their relationship—was worth taking time away from her career? Trying not to feel discouraged, he turned his attention to the food, cutting a slice of salami and tasting it.

Lily spread Brie on French bread, took a bite, then popped a grape into her mouth. When she swallowed, she said, “Mmm, a perfect combo.”

No one would call him and Lily that. Not when they’d met, not on their wedding day, and not now. He’d never been a guy who gave a damn about perfect, yet here he was, married to a perfectionist.

“So, high school,” she said reflectively. “I enjoyed it, but I was under my parents’ thumb. I had to take the courses they approved, get top marks. I could only see friends they approved of”—she shot him a wry glance—“not that anyone else was asking me out anyhow. They didn’t prohibit me from things like going to movies, but I got lectured about using my time more effectively.” She sipped champagne. “Your mom and grandparents didn’t exactly keep you on a tight rein.”

“Nope.”

She put down her glass. “Dax, any time I ask you about the time before we met, you won’t talk about it. I’ve respected that, but we promised to be honest with each other so I’m telling you, it makes me feel like you’re shutting me out.”

Crap. He hadn’t meant to make her feel bad. “It’s not that. It was just a bad time.”

“What? High school?”

He gritted his teeth. “Everything, before that summer at Camp Skookumchuck.”

“Then all the more reason to talk about it.”

“I’m a guy. We handle stuff, we don’t whine about it. My childhood’s long past. Talking isn’t going to change it.”

She leaned forward, her gaze intent on his face. “No, it won’t change it. But it will help me, and I hope help us as a couple. Our pasts are part of who we are. Dax, how can I truly understand you if a huge part of your life is a big secret?”

Hmm. When she put it that way, it did kind of make sense. It was a very long time ago, so why was he making a big deal of it? Besides, it felt good, knowing that Lily cared enough to want to understand him. Tension eased from his shoulders. “Okay, fine. Twelfth grade. No, I wasn’t on a tight rein. My grandparents tried to set rules, but it’s hard to stop a rebellious kid so they gave up. They said I was just like my dad and I’d end up in jail too.”

“Dax, that’s so unfair.”

Unfair? The story of his childhood. But sure, he could talk about it, if it meant so much to her. If it could be a step toward saving their marriage.

“What about your mother?” she asked.

He assembled a sandwich of French bread, salami, Brie, and sliced tomato. “She ran away with my high school dropout dad when she was eighteen. Mom and Dad, well, discipline wasn’t in their vocabulary. They lived for the moment, for pleasure.” He bit into the sandwich.

“Sounds like a child’s dream, but it couldn’t have made for the most stable childhood.”

He snorted. “You can say that again.”

“Go on. Tell me more.”

He’d never told anyone this stuff, so he had to search for words to describe his childhood. After swallowing the last bite of his sandwich, he said, “My parents never grew up. Never took responsibility for anything. Didn’t hold a job for long before they got bored, or decided to move somewhere else, or got fired. They drank too much, did drugs. Their relationship was, uh, volatile.”

“Volatile?”

“They said they loved each other, but they fought a lot. And made up. Loudly, in both cases.”

“Ick. That’s no way for a kid to grow up.”

Tell me about it. He drained his wineglass and refilled it, topping up Lily’s glass too. “It taught me things.”

“Such as?”

“To look after myself.”

She gazed at him solemnly. “Because you couldn’t count on anyone else to do it.”

This actually felt kind of good, telling Lily and having her get it. “Couldn’t trust my folks for anything. Not to put food on the table, buy me new shoes when I outgrew the old ones, show up at a parent-teacher conference.”

“That’s awful.” She sounded outraged, thank God, rather than pitying.

“They actually weren’t horrible people, just immature and self-absorbed. It was all about them having fun.”

“They shouldn’t have had a child.”

“No.” Nor should he. Thank God he hadn’t knocked Lily up when they were kids, the way his dad did his mom. “There’s a lot of things they shouldn’t have done.”

“And after you graduated from high school, you all went your own way. That’s sad.”

No, being with them had been sad; he’d been better off on his own. “Dad was a screwup. It wasn’t healthy, being around him, even before he went to jail. Mom was an airhead. But I guess she loved him, since she took off to live closer to the jail so she could see him.”

“When?”

“Spring of twelfth grade.”

“She left you with her parents? How could she?”

He snagged a drumstick of barbecued chicken. “Dad was more important to her.”

“I knew you had family issues, but I had no idea how bad it was. Dax, I wish you’d told me this the summer we met.”

“I didn’t want to think about it.” He also hadn’t wanted Lily, the princess from another world, to realize how fucked up he was. “Anyhow, yeah, Mom left. A couple weeks later I turned eighteen. Then I got suspended for cheating. Which I didn’t do. I wrote my history essay on the use of helicopters in the Vietnam War, and I guess it was pretty good. Which didn’t match up with my marks and attitude the rest of the time.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Can’t really blame folks for not believing me. I kind of was an asshole back then.”

The corner of her mouth tipped up. “A sexy bad boy.”

“Whatever. Anyhow, for my grandparents, that was the final straw. They kicked me out.”

“What?”

“Kicked me out of the house. Said they didn’t need any more of my bullshit, though they said it in fancier words.”

Her jaw dropped. “Before you finished high school? Dax, what did you do?”

“Thought about dropping out and working full time for the construction company. But the site manager said I should finish school. He was the only person I respected enough to take advice from. He let me stay in the trailer at the site until school ended, then the company sent me to the project at Camp Skookumchuck. And that catches you up to the point where we hooked up.” He gestured toward the chicken. “Want the other drumstick?”

She shook her head absentmindedly. “All I knew was that you didn’t get along with your family, and that you all lost contact. I feel horrible that you didn’t feel you could share the rest with me.”

“You’d have thought I was a total jerk, or that I was pathetic and felt sorry for me. Neither’s the way I wanted you to see me.”