TouchStone for giving (The Story of Us Trilogy) (42 page)

the smallest detail, missing nothing.

For some reason, seeing him like this is stirring my emotions. The muscles in my throat are

constricting and tears are forming, blurring my vision. Through a weepy haze I try to imagine life

before him. Quickly I shove that image aside. I don’t want to remember; the loneliness, the fear, the

wishing for more …

Now I have everything and yet I have a dark sense of foreboding, dread even. Why do I think my

bubble filled with rainbow colours is about to burst? Even in his reverie his body calls out to me. I

allow my hand to hover over his heart, wanting to touch, to be reassured.

He stirs, licks his lips and rubs his eyes with the backs of his hands like an animated cartoon

character. He looks adorable. He turns and catches my watchful eye, prepares to speak but I beat him

to it.

“Good morning.”

His smile is my wake-up call. “Yes, it is.”

I roll away from him before he can see well enough to spot my glistening eyes.

“Not so fast Missy.”

Strong arms are wrapped around me and I’m being pulled backward, across and under his upper

body. I pull him in for a kiss but he leans away. Seeing the forlorn look in my eyes he slackens his

grip.

“What’s wrong?”

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

He squints, not believing my assertion. “The last time you said nothing you had a love-ring

concealed in your hand. Remember?”

I smile at the memory. “I remember.”

“And now, what are you concealing? Let’s check.”

He is giving me the sexiest body search, using his hands to cover every inch of me, inside and out.

I’m wriggling and giggling uncontrollably.

“No. Nothing here.” The search continues. “No. Nothing there either.” He takes a breath so deep, it

has his chest expanding and his pectoral muscles flexing before my eyes. “It’s safe to say you are

quite clean Miss Parker and, as such, free to go.”

I love his games. They remind me how lucky I am to have the love of this man. “Are you sure? You

don’t want to press charges, read me my rights …?”

He taps his chin. “I intend to press charges, most definitely, but not at the moment.”

I roll away from him, across the expanse of white linen. “In that case, I will make my escape.”

“Only until I can arrest you again,” he calls out after me. “And have you picked up for evading

capture.”

His voice is drowned out by the sound of spray leaving the power shower with the force of a

fireman’s hose. As I rinse off any remaining suds, I become aware of a naked Adonis making his way

into my steam filled cubicle.

“Hello, my little fugitive. Your friendly crime fighter here.”

I splash his face with water and he blinks and smiles, ducking his head under the forceful jets of

water.

“Tell me, are you wet enough yet?”

I turn to face him and etched on his face is the promise of untold pleasures. I know he isn’t talking

about the water. From between the droplets and the spray I mouth the word, “always.” and he needs no

further encouragement.

His mouth is on mine. The steaming water froths and fizzes around our lips. His hair squeaks

beneath my fingers and I pull and tug at it, urging him on. Will I ever get enough of this man? He’s

the drug I can’t do without. Ayden Stone, my daily fix.

“I want to wash every inch of you,” he says softly into my ear.

“Why? Do you think I’m a dirty girl?” I reply playfully.

“Oh, I certainly hope so,” he declares, letting the bubbling foam in his hands cover my breasts, then

my arms and my back; the touch of his mouth on mine and his hands everywhere is both sensual and

stimulating at the same time.

I lower my hands to measure the rate of his arousal. I’m not disappointed; his sheathed cock stands

to attention and ready for action.

Enabling him to draw wet strands of hair through his fingers, I throw back my head while his sweet,

wet kisses dissolve on my neck like melting caramel. Luxuriating in his touch, I stand cleansed and

expectant.

“There you are, all clean and delicious.”

The muscles in my bottom clench involuntarily at the prospect of him devouring me and he knows

it. “Thank you, my turn.” I busy my hands with the task of washing his hair; he rolls his head in a

circular motion to allow me to rinse the lather from his eyes, unaware of my lascivious inspection of

his perfect torso.

“This is my favourite part of the day,” he gushes and, as the steam rises, so does his urgent need to

slide himself into me.

With his hands beneath my buttocks he lifts me. “Wrap your legs around me Beth.” Willingly I

oblige. “This is going to be quick but I’ll be gentle.” He fastens my eyes to his with an intensity that

makes me hold my breath and pushes into me and keeps pushing. Our bodies are locked together in an

inseparable union: groin to groin, mouth to mouth. I’m impaled, rocking, my senses rising.

“You do things to me,” he hisses, struggling to contain himself.

“You too,” is the only thing I can say. I pant, feeling a burning, an aching, a longing for detonation.

My sounds inflame him further and I sense his approaching climax. “Harder, faster,” I urge. He

doesn’t disappoint, he never disappoints. “Ah ...” he makes me cry out.

“You have all of me Beth,” he declares with so little air in his lungs, my name floats in the steam; a

single syllable scattering and drenching the walls.

He launches himself. “Yes ... yes,” he cries, pumping everything he has into me. His cry meets with

mine as I contract around him and he calls out “Yes Beth I feel you.”

I cannot shape my sensations into words and I groan and sit into him, helpless and fulfilled.

When our breathing eases he pulls out of me and settles my feet back onto the tiled floor. Breaking

away from his eyes, I realise the whole room is filled with steam and I smile. There I was fearful of

sleeping alone, of waking alone. He didn’t leave me at all.

When I return to dress, our bedroom is empty. It’s getting to the point where I never know where he

is at any given time. The likelihood of this trip being as wonderful as I had hoped is becoming

questionable, at best.

Feeling the need for speed, I dry my hair and wrap it around into a kind of French plait and clip it

up, apply simple make-up and give myself the once over. I’ll do.

Dressing for comfort, I slip on a casual pair of crisp ivory trousers by DKNY and a matching tunic

in claret; it’s light, free flowing and feels soft on my skin. I throw a Jasper Conran ribbed cardigan

over my arm, grab a scarf to coordinate the outfit and make for the lounge, unsure of exactly who I’ll

find there, if anyone.

Ayden is sipping coffee and reading the newspaper when I enter.

“Morning, lovely lady … can I tempt you with some breakfast?”

I glance over at the selection. It’s a veritable feast. “I think so. I’m starving.” I lean over and kiss

him. He tastes of something sweet.

“I ordered a little of everything so help yourself. We have a busy day ahead of us.”

That statement gets my attentions. “We do?” I answer, sipping hot coffee.

“Yes. I’ve chartered a chopper so we can go see the Hoover Dam and then the Grand Canyon this

afternoon.” He looks quite pleased with himself. “Sound good?”

With a mouth full of Danish pastry, I nod enthusiastically. “Mm ...”

He laughs a little and folds the newspaper in half. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes. You?” I feign disinterest, seemingly engrossed in the breakfast banquet.

“Not too bad.”

Knowing his confidential incident could prove to be disastrous makes every nonchalant remark

stings like an insect bite. Lying is physically painful for me. Hoping to escape further enquires I move

swiftly onto the day’s schedule of activities. “Have you done the excursion before?”

He smiles broadly, knowing where this conversation is going. “No. I haven’t.”

“Ah. That’s nice. It’ll be a first for us both then?” I state, popping fruit into my mouth.

“Yes it will. One of many, I hope.” He stands, stretches and walks over to the terrace, pulls back the

glass door and breathes deeply.

I glance up between mouthfuls, sensing his unease. Although his grey sweater fits his muscular

frame like a second skin, I can see through material and muscle and skin to the man underneath; he’s

suffering. He turns, feeling my eyes on him, oblivious to my thoughts, smiles and I swallow back an

involuntary gulp. Even putting on a brave face, he’s beyond beautiful.

“I’ll get my things and then we’ll begin our adventure.” He kisses my hair, and is gone.

The journey to the airfield has taken us 30 minutes in an air conditioned minibus. I glance out over

the stretch of concrete and see a gleaming white helicopter, with the word ‘Serenity’ emblazoned

across it diagonally.

“Is that ours?” I ask, sounding a little apprehensive.

“I think so.” He studies my face. “Don’t look so nervous Beth. It’ll be fun. You’ll see.”

I really hope he’s right. The two travel sickness tablets I took with my breakfast snack will

certainly be put to the test today.

Ayden and I climb into the back seat and Sam, our pilot, hands us a set of padded earphones.

“It’s gonna get kinda noisy up there so you might wanna put these on. We can communicate

through the mouthpiece here.”

Ayden buckles me in before slipping mine over my head and chuckles, realising they are much too

big for me. After shrinking them down, they fit more snuggly. I’m all set.

He pulls his headset on and turns the mouth piece into position.

“Alright? Can you hear me?”

I nod.

“Then say something so I can check mine.” He taps my microphone.

I look into his eyes. “I love you.”

His smile softens. “I love you more.”

With that the motor starts and the rotor blades begin spinning faster and faster. We rattle around for

a couple of seconds before becoming airborne. I reach out my right hand and grip Ayden’s left,

squeezing tight as the ground moves away from us.

He’s laughing. “You’re such a scaredy-cat Miss Parker,” he mumbles, pulling my white knuckled

hand to his mouth and kissing it. “Here we go.”

Here we go indeed. Higher and higher we climb into the blanket of blue above our heads. I look out

over the changing landscape. Patches of green become sand coloured; flat stretches of land begin to

peak and form into troughs and hills. It’s unrecognisable. A wide blue line weaves it way through

trenches, blocked only by an enormous man made structure in white that curves and slots perfectly

into the hillside.

“It’s the Hoover Dam,” Ayden points out. “It’s holding back the water from Lake Mead. Look.” He

points to the left of it and there’s a massive stretch of clear blue water. It’s beautiful; a shining oasis

in this rustic desert.

I free my hand from his and turn to look out of the window, without fear, feeling only exhilaration

and delight. Who does this?

The pilot skilfully takes us onward towards our destination, breaking the silence to draw our

attention to points of interest. How strange the mountains look with their flat tops, as if laid out for a

giant tea party.

And here it comes … there’s no mistaking the Grand Canyon when it appears out of the midday

haze; a ginormous wall of veined rock of an unimaginable size with a salmon coloured ribbon running

through it at its lowest point.

Out of nowhere a peak appears to our left and I gasp. “Shit!”

Ayden roars with laugher and speaks to the pilot. “I think she means we are a little close to the

rocks.”

“Don’t worry ma’am, I’ve been doing this for the past eight years. I know these rocks like the back

of my hand.”

Ayden reaches for my hand. “Okay?”

“Yes. It’s awe-inspiring, don’t you think?”

“I do.” He pulls me to him and kisses my forehead. “Just like you.”

Like the layers on a flamenco skirt the lines flow through the rock, giving a continuous record of

the time taken to create one of nature’s finest masterpieces. I have no words … only silent reflection.

As we continue on our flight, almost close enough to the rocks to touch, I hold onto Ayden’s hand.

Not out of fear, simply to maintain our bond throughout what is a unique and unforgettable experience

for us both.

Even though he has the weight of the world on his shoulders, he has remained carefree and

attentive. God love him for that. When we leave this alien landscape for the real world, there will be

no canyon deep enough or wide enough to hide in. I just pray the powers that be won’t ride roughshod

over him. I couldn’t bear it.

One hour after having left Sin City, our pilot begins his decent. In the distance I see an enormous

lodge perched on a patch of green; that seems to be where we’re headed.

“I’ll get you as close as I can Mr. Stone,” Sam says, breaking the silence.

“Thank you.” He gives my hand a squeeze. “Ready for some lunch?”

I shrug my shoulders. “Sure. I could eat something,” I lie. My stomach is tied in knots and forcing