Freefalling (5 page)

‘I like you just the way you are, Hayley.’ Her nipples prickled against her T-shirt as he ran his thumb over her lips. ‘Including your artistic head.’

‘You’re already in my head, stopping me thinking straight.’

‘Then paint what’s in your head.’

‘You really don’t want me to do that.’ What was in her head most of the time was pure porn when it came to him.

His lips were on her forehead, on her nose, and the swelling want in her breasts was trickling down lower, pooling in the base of her stomach. ‘Paint what’s in your heart.’ He was nibbling her bottom lip, and each tug was shooting a message straight between her warming thighs. ‘I promise I won’t try and trap you –’ his tongue skated along her teeth, making her shiver ‘– if you promise not to shut me out.’ The last words drifted into her mouth as his lips came down gently on hers in the softest, most sensual kiss she could ever imagine. ‘We can just have fun, enjoy each other.’ He cradled her face in his hands as he teased her, tempted her into opening her lips wider, into exploring his mouth with her tongue, and as the taste of his lust started to play with her senses her whole body melted against him. His hair was soft under her fingers, soft and silky, and as she wound her fingers in deeper he groaned. She pressed her body harder against his, and he wrapped his arms round her and pulled her in tight, his kiss deepening but still so gentle that it made her ache with want.

He pulled back slightly and kissed her on the nose, then traced down it with the lightest touch of his finger. ‘You are so damn hard to resist, you know.’

OK, she shouldn’t have glanced down at his crotch, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted him desperately, every bit of her screaming out for him.

‘Don’t even think about it, Hayley.’ She could have sworn there was a tremble in his voice. ‘Go back and do your silly artistic head stuff and I’ll see you later. I just came because you sounded like you needed someone. But I’m taking you out tomorrow whether you like it or not, so be ready at 8 a.m.’

‘Out, where?’

‘Heaven.’ He grinned. How he disentangled himself so quick and shot down the stairs she didn’t know. She was still tingling and hoping as the heavy clunk of the door shutting behind him echoed through the house.

Chapter Five

‘Are you OK in there?’ Tom leant in closer to the firmly shut door and swore inwardly at the sound of her unzipping the jumpsuit, hoping she wasn’t taking it off and looking for an escape route. But at least she wasn’t puking up, which he’d seen more than one person do.

‘I’m fine, go away.’

There was the slightest edge to her voice that he hoped was excitement, but his stomach dipped as he considered the other alternative. Fear. But he’d thought she’d be up for it, was so sure her eyes had shone when he’d told her where they were heading. Maybe it was the gleam of tears. Fuck. Just because he enjoyed jumping out of planes didn’t mean she would. ‘You don’t have to go through with it.’

‘I want to. Now will you just bugger off?’ She sounded cross, not scared.

‘You’re not shut in there because you’re scared and planning a runner, then?’

‘I’m shut in here because I’m bloody excited.’ He heard, felt, the clunk of her head against the door on the other side. ‘I’m wound up, excited …’ There was a crack in her voice, a definite crack. ‘I just need …’ She’d gone kind of distant. If she wasn’t being sick and she wasn’t using the toilet … A rush of blood headed straight to Tom’s groin. ‘I just need …’

‘A wank?’ He hadn’t meant to say it quite that loud.

‘Shh, someone will hear. And that’s a horrible word.’ She seemed to be struggling to get the words out, which meant … He groaned and felt his cock stiffen.

‘There’s no one else here. You’ve got your fingers in your damp pussy, haven’t you?’

‘No.’ She gasped, and not the kind of gasp you normally hear from a toilet cubicle.

‘You’re wet, aren’t you, and you’re rubbing your clit, rubbing round and round.’ The smallest of moans seeped through the door. ‘God, I wish I had my fingers inside you, filling you, stretching you.’ He cupped his hand round his cock. ‘Don’t you wish I was filling you with this big, hard cock –’ her stifled gasp caught him right in the balls ‘– thrusting deep inside until you scream out.’ A small sound midway between a moan and a gasp sent an ache right to the base of his stomach, a familiar sound that had been locked in his mind since they’d met at The Gallery, a sound he wanted to hear so much more of, the sound of Hayley coming.

He took a steadying breath. ‘Want a hand with your zip?’

‘Go away while I have a wee.’

He laughed. ‘And what if I want to listen to that too?’

‘You’re weird, now bugger off.’ But she was smiling; there was a tease of it in her voice.

He grinned and headed back into the morning sun, and hoped his hard-on went before they jumped, or he might do himself a serious injury.

‘Will you stand still a sec?’

‘I’m trying.’ She was jiggling from foot to foot in anticipation and grinning, which made him want to kiss her. Except kissing her was seriously bad news for his heart rate, and the direction of his blood flow. He snapped the harness into place and checked the straps.

‘You’re supposed to be scared; you’re supposed to be clinging to your strong, manly protector.’

‘My what?’

‘Your hero, the one who’s going to look after you.’

‘Oh yeah, you mean that gorgeous, hunky pilot.’

‘You, girl, are asking for a spanking.’ Her eyes shone and the grin widened. He shouldn’t have said that, he really shouldn’t have said that. He fought the urge to smile, to kiss her, to drag her back to the restroom. ‘Me, right? I’m your hero.’

‘Really?’ Her eyes widened. ‘Well, if you’re sure.’

‘I’m sure. Now you remember everything we went through?’ He tugged at her straps again. God, he was more nervous than she was.

‘Yup, I think I need another wee.’

‘Oh no you don’t, I’m not standing here thinking about your fingers in your pussy again just before we get in the plane.’

‘A wee, I said a wee.’ A trace of pink etched its way along her cheekbones, and for the first time she looked slightly worried. So he let himself kiss her, just once, just lightly on her soft lips, ignoring the invitation as they gently parted.

‘Come on, you’re going to love this.’ Tom couldn’t help but smile as he helped her in. This was the best part, as the plane taxied, took off, and headed up into the sky. It didn’t matter how many times he did it, how many times he went for the perfect jump.

The thrum of the engines reverberated through him. This was the part when the anticipation built, the thrill started to creep through his body, and from the way her hand was tightening in his it was getting to her too.

‘We’ll go at 15,000 feet, OK?’ She gave a small nod, a whisper of a smile as he clipped her harness to his. ‘Look.’ He wrapped one arm round her, pointed with the other over towards the horizon, and in that moment he felt the sigh of satisfaction that ran through her, that moment when wonder overtook fear, when she relaxed her slight body against his. The grip of her hands eased slightly on her harness straps, colour edging back into her knuckles.

And then they were out, into the blue and her body formed the perfect position without him saying a word, her head lifted as they went into freefall and became part of the sky.

They floated, hung above the world, and only the buffeting of the air against his face told him that they were moving, told him that any second now he’d have to release the canopy and snap the perfect moment. You only get one minute, he’d told her, one perfect minute at most, and he pushed to get as close to it as he could before they were jerked to a halt as control took over from freedom.

‘That was …’ Hayley struggled for a word as she curled her fingers into the damp grass. ‘Incredible.’ There was a snap as he unclipped her harness from his and she made to get up, but he stopped her, rolled her over as he leant back so that she lay on top of him in the long grass.

‘You’re incredible.’ She could live on that warm as chocolate voice, that intent look in his tawny eyes.

‘Thank you.’ He pulled her down tighter against him and her voice went to a whisper as his hard lean body pressed into hers. ‘For jumping with me, not saying …’

‘I want more than that, Hayley.’ He pulled her goggles off, threw their helmets to one side. ‘I want you.’

‘You want to shag me?’ She slid herself along his body and he groaned. ‘You want to shove that big, hard cock of yours inside me?’

‘You’re a witch.’ His hands cupped her face fiercely, and he lifted his head slightly so that his lips met hers. Firm, hard lips that tasted of mint, of coffee, and of lust. She could sense his restraint, feel the power, and she wanted it. She met his tongue with hers, pushed back harder, and suddenly, with a groan, he let go and was kissing her with a bruising intensity that made her forget she was in a field.

He rolled her over, his hands tugging at the buckles of her harness, tearing at the zip of her overall, and she did the same, fighting with the hard plastic and webbing that was keeping his body from her hands. She was panting by the time she got past enough of the fastening to get his cock in her hand, his hard, bulging cock. She ran her thumb over the silky, velvet tip and he groaned.

‘No way, Hayley.’ He grabbed her wrist, tugged the jumpsuit free of one of her legs, and then his fingers were pushing her soaked knickers to one side as he moved between her legs, as he teased her for a split second with the head of his cock, and then he was in and she was already pulsing and wrapping her legs round him, yelling out and rocking as her greedy pussy trembled around him.

‘Shit, Hayley.’ His face was tight, his eyes glazed as he looked down at her, then three hard thrusts and he came, bathing her insides with his warm juices. ‘Sorry, I can’t believe I did that. I feel like some bloody randy teenager.’

‘What?’ She couldn’t stop the giggle, or the way her pussy tightened around him as she laughed, sending a last sizzle of sensation through her body. His eyes narrowed.

‘Carry on laughing and I might start again.’

‘Mmm, that would be nice.’ Shit, why was her voice that soft? It wasn’t her. Then he was looking at her, those tiger eyes burning inches away from hers, and it was as still as it had been that moment before they’d jumped. That second when he’d been there, looking after her, when she’d trusted him enough to go for it and she’d been freefalling. No one holding her, but someone there.

Hell. She shut her eyes. ‘Can we do it again?’

‘The shag?’

‘You have a one-track mind. The jump, Tom, and then, well, maybe the shag.’

‘You have a body that deserves a one-track mind.’ His tongue traced a hot path along her neck, sending a shiver through her, making her cunt clench around him. He twitched inside her and she pushed her hips up harder against him, grinding her pelvis against his.

‘I love your one track-mind.’ This was the moment when it went wrong. She froze, hoping it would go away. That she hadn’t just said what she knew she had.

‘Only my mind, not my body?’ His voice was soft, as though he knew, and then he shoved rudely against her, making her laugh. ‘I think we should do this plenty of times again if it makes you this horny.’ He bit her neck and she squealed.

‘That hurt, you bugger. Stop it.’

‘Mmm, I think I’ll eat you.’

‘’Cos you’ve gone too soft to shag me?’

‘Cheeky, I can soon alter that. But –’ he paused ‘– I suppose I should report in properly.’

‘You buying time, big boy?’ She was greedy to have him again, and his grin said he knew, and he was backing off on purpose. But he was growing inside her, his cock twitching, filling her, and she wrapped her legs tighter round him, pulling him close.

‘Did you like your bit of heaven, Hayley Tring?’ His voice was serious as he looked down at her, his hips gently rocking so that he was touching parts of her inside that she hadn’t known existed.

‘I loved it, Thomas Holah, but– ’ she paused and bit her lip, watching the trace of anxiety creep into his face, shadow his eyes ‘– it’s made me very randy.’

‘Which can’t be bad.’ His lips brushed her neck, her eyes, finally reached her lips with a tenderness that made her whole body ache. ‘Not bad at all.’ And his mouth took hers with a caress that every taste bud in her mouth seemed to be savouring, and his hips moved slowly, steadily, so that with each long stroke he seemed to touch another part of her. The gentle rocking built up until she closed her eyes, until her tongue stopped dancing against his, and all she knew was the heat building, spreading inside her, and she came in a gentle ripple of want that made tears prick at the back of her eyes.

‘And what would you like to do next, Miss Tring?’ He pulled her gently to her feet and tugged the zip of her jumpsuit back up, right to the top.

‘Paint.’

Chapter Six

Something about that day freefalling with Tom had triggered a need in her to paint, to prove to herself that she could do it. Even if he was there in the background, even if bit by bit every hard block of resolve was melting away and being replaced with need and want and something she really didn’t want to put a name to.

The large paintings for his office reception area had taken on a life of their own; all she had to do was imagine, feel, and the colour and form flowed on to the canvas.

Each morning he supplied her with croissants and coffee before heading off to his office, and each evening he’d be there with beer or wine and a wicked, sexy smile that short circuited every bit of common sense. A smile that made something deep inside her clench tighter, and made the battle to get the picture for his office done that much more like fighting heat with fire.

She’d get up in the night and pad barefoot up to her study to rework lines, screwing her eyes shut to try and block out every facet of his face, even though she’d just left him in her bed and the heat of his body still warmed her. Trying to stop the images that crowded her head from leaking on to the canvas and make it all go wrong. And he didn’t comment or ask when she was wound up and scratchy, he just pulled her close, wrapping her in a cocoon of two. Which made it worse and better all at once. But now she had to stop. Share.

‘So what do you think?’ She’d dragged him straight up to the studio, too twitchy to wait, and now he stood in front of the canvases. With maddening deliberation he tugged his tie loose and undid his top button. She could scream, but it probably wouldn’t help.

‘Those are …’ His gaze never left the pictures as he dropped his jacket onto the chair. ‘They’re spot on, brilliant.’ He grinned and sent a tingle straight down her spine. ‘Very clever.’

‘You think they’re OK?’

‘I love them.’ He somehow got a step closer and slipped his arm round her waist, hitting the spot that never failed to send a shiver of want though her. ‘And I think I …’

He was too close, looking at her too intently. ‘They’re not quite finished yet, I just wanted to give you an idea.’ She was babbling, but sometimes babbling was good. Sometimes it stopped things you didn’t want to hear.

‘You are giving me ideas.’

The panic subsided. ‘Rude ones, I bet?’

‘Rude and very crude.’ He turned back to the pictures and a whoosh of relief escaped from her lungs. ‘I do really like them; they’re kind of fresh and new, but not too much in your face, if you know what I mean.’ Relief mixed with emptiness, like she’d turned off the radio before the song had finished.

‘I know. That’s what I wanted, new but almost traditional. A twist so that you’d start to walk past them and then suddenly realise they were different and you might go back for a second look. I’ll finish them properly next week. And this –’ She hesitated, as doubt grabbed at her gut. She’d known those pictures were good, she’d known he’d like them, they captured every emotion, every feeling she’d wanted them to. But this was different, this was the one she’d fought with and still wasn’t sure if she’d won or lost. The personal touch. ‘This is the one for your office.’

It was hard to flip the cover from the canvas that she had a love/hate relationship with, harder still to wait as the silence grew. Hardest of all to look at him, meet the look in his eyes head on. But she could do hard. She always had. Just like the crags in the picture. ‘You don’t like it, do you?’ The grit in her voice fought a losing battle with the hard lump in her throat.

‘It’s not that I don’t like it.’

‘Oh, you hate it.’

‘That’s not fair Hayley, I never said that.’ He didn’t look happy and he didn’t seem to know whether he preferred to look at the picture or her. ‘I don’t hate it; I don’t exactly not like it, even.’ He paused. ‘It’s just … Well, it’s great, for just a picture but …’

‘Not for your picture. Just for some other office, some other place?’

‘It’s clever, really.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I can see the “me” bit in it, the boring bits and the danger …’

‘But? You can be honest, you know.’ Even though I’d rather you weren’t.

‘It’s not you.’ He grimaced, and she knew she’d stiffened and drawn away from him just a tiny bit. She couldn’t help it. ‘It’s just a picture; you know, a great picture, but …’

‘But?’ Were they ever going to get anywhere with this, was he going to spit it out and say it sucked?

‘But it doesn’t do anything for me. It’s like all those other pictures that didn’t do anything for me until I met you. All those brilliant pieces of art in all those galleries I’ve been forced to walk through.’ His voice was soft and it hurt, really hurt. Chipped at places it shouldn’t have been able to reach. ‘I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, but it’s just, I don’t know, flat?’

Honest, she’d asked for honest and he’d delivered, like he always did. One hundred per cent. ‘Flat.’ Shit. ‘See? I told you this would happen. I knew it.’

‘But the other ones are great, they’re brilliant, so it can’t be –’

‘And that one sucks, right? You hate it, I hate it.’ She took another step away, shoving her hands into her pockets, trying to ignore the sudden need to throw the damned picture on the floor and stamp on it.

‘You can’t just blame being with me.’ He was looking at her as though she’d gone slightly mad. ‘Be reasonable, Hayley.’

‘Reasonable? I am being reasonable. Knowing what you want doesn’t always make you bloody right, you know. I’ve been here before. This is the start, this is the point where it all just starts slipping away, and I can’t do that to myself again, I can’t.’ Heat pricked at the back of her eyes. They’d had the sex, the fun and she’d known all along it was wrong, that she couldn’t handle it.

‘And what about me? You can do it to me? To us?’

‘Us? I told you there couldn’t be an us, not at the moment, not until I’ve done this.’

‘So you expect me to just accept all the blame? It’s my fault, is it?’

‘I don’t expect anything.’ She took another step back, another step further away from the man who wasn’t to blame for anything except wanting her as much as she wanted him. ‘I only expect stuff from me. I want to do your paintings. I just need space.’ The inside of her cheek stung as she bit hard.

‘You’ve had space. Those other paintings are fine, but this one just hasn’t worked. Just do it again.’

‘Tom.’ Why did he have to make this difficult? Why was he so fucking stubborn?

‘Since when did space ever work in a relationship?’ He’d raised his voice, but then she saw it in his eyes. That point when he knew he’d said the wrong thing even for himself. Since when was this meant to be a relationship? Neither of them had wanted that. ‘Fine.’

Shit. She wanted to grab him, kiss him, wanted him to rewind, and instead he was looking like everything she said was right. ‘I just need to …’

And she spun round and headed down the stairs.

OK, he was out of his depth; he didn’t do begging, and he didn’t do getting involved. And he’d just nearly done both. Not that it would have made an iota of difference. Because he’d blown it.

After they’d been freefalling she’d practically locked herself away up here and he’d let her, because she’d been fizzing with a contagious energy that made him want her more every day. Then he’d seen the fear, the resolution as she’d fought it, and he hadn’t dared ask. He’d just shared her bed and shared her body, but too many times she’d not been there, locked away as though she was trying to prove something to them both. And he’d been too scared to pry, to prove her right, and risk her walking away. Even though all he’d wanted to do was tell her it was OK, that he wanted to share, not take away. The one time he’d pushed the point, every sinew in her body had seemed to tighten and she’d gone as brittle as an eggshell on him. And he’d let her. Fuck.

So this was her domain, the place he’d only been allowed in briefly before. He leant to one side, flicked open a sketchpad, and the real Hayley jumped back at him. The Hayley that was present in all her pictures except that one she’d done for him.

His gaze travelled over the ones strewn on the floor; sketches in charcoal, rough drafts in colour. They were good, they were her. She didn’t need more space, more time without him. He could back off, but he didn’t want to. And he really didn’t need to. Unless it was just that she wanted him to …

He leant back against the wall and closed his eyes. Maybe she couldn’t do that one picture for him because she didn’t want to. And now he’d really screwed up; he’d told her she was crap, proved to her that she’d been right all the time. Except she hadn’t. And he might not want a relationship, but he didn’t want to let go either.

‘Hey.’

Like the mystery she was she’d come up the stairs without a sound. Her light scent invaded his senses just as her soft voice tweaked at his conscience. He was being unfair, and whatever the answer to this was he wasn’t sure he had it. ‘It’s OK, you don’t have to worry about throwing me out. I’ll leave you in peace.’ He held both hands up in defeat.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s fine. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said …’

‘That it sucked? But it does, I know it does.’

‘But it’s my fault.’

‘No, no it isn’t. That’s why I’m sorry.’ He opened his eyes, but didn’t dare move another muscle as she walked over to him, her bare feet moving soundlessly on the wooden floor.

‘It isn’t your fault, Tom, it’s my fault.’

* * *

Hayley stared at him, sat on her studio floor, surrounded by her sketches, and her throat tightened painfully. My fault for not believing, my fault for overthinking things. Running had been the easiest thing to do: running from him, running from herself and all the things that sent her into a state of frozen panic. The picture had never been right, but she’d battled on with it. It was too self-controlled, too careful. She’d been scared to let him into her life; she’d been too scared to let him into her head, into her painting. She’d wanted to capture him, but she hadn’t let herself. How could it be a reflection of him if she spent all her time trying to shut him out of her thoughts? ‘I’ll fix it, Tom.’ And then I’ll try and fix us.

‘What do you mean?’ He was looking at her warily, his eyes narrowed. ‘You’ll run away, that’s it?’

‘No, I’ve stopped running. Well, I’ll try and stop. Just give me a couple of days.’ He looked sceptical, and for a moment there was a look of something she couldn’t pinpoint, couldn’t identify, and then it hit her. Square in what might have been her belly but could well have been a smidgen higher. He looked defeated, and it was so not how he was supposed to look. ‘Trust me, can you trust me?’ Like I’m trying to trust you?

He nodded; pulled himself back up to his feet. ‘These are good, brilliant, in fact.’ He waved at the sketches.

‘I know.’

‘You can still –’

‘I know.’ She took a step forward and kissed him, just to shut him up, try and stop him trying to work it out for her. ‘I need to do this for myself.’

‘I can help.’ Her heart quickened almost painfully in her chest at the gentle look on his face. Storming out of the studio had been childish and she’d only got as far as the bottom stair before she’d known, before it had hit her that she’d spent her whole life using her art as a security blanket, as an excuse for not letting anyone get close.

‘No, Tom.’

‘You still want me to go?’

‘I’ve got to jump solo this time.’ She grinned, and stepped back away from temptation. ‘You can come back later.’ She shoved her hands into her pockets. ‘If you still want to, that is?’