TAVIAN

07.15.15

“No. Absolutely not. You’ve lost your mind.” Lyra crosses her arms over her chest and glares at me from the passenger seat of the car, her pouty bottom lip begging me to suck on it. “I don’t even know what tandem flying is, but for the record, my ass is meant to stay on the ground, unless it’s in an airplane with a licensed pilot.”

I gaze out the windshield to the sign that reads “Tandemfly Dolomiti” and my face breaks into a huge smile, the adrenaline already pumping for what we’re about to do. And yes, she’s a part of the we, no matter how much she whines or moans. I have no doubt once she’s gliding through the sky, high above the breathtaking scenery below, she’ll change her tune.

“Your record is stupid,” I snort, turning my attention to her. My hand snakes over the middle console and squeezes her upper thigh. “And I’m gonna show you exactly what that ass is meant for if you fight me on this. You said you trusted me last night and now we’ve driven almost two hours to get here. I’ve kept my end of the deal at least a hundred times over since we agreed. Hell, you do this, and afterward I’ll kiss you stupid until you can’t remember what it feels like without my mouth on some part of your body.”

“No.” She tries to stay stoic, pretending my words or touch doesn’t affect her, but I see the crack in her façade—her knees clenching together and the goose bumps on her arms.

I pounce while she’s vulnerable, my visceral instinct to claim her stronger than my moral compass. In a single sweeping motion, I scoop her out of her seat, hauling her ass into my lap. There’s no way she can’t feel my arousal through my lightweight joggers and her thin black leggings, but I don’t give a shit.

“Yes,” I growl as my lips crash onto hers, my tongue swiping away any possible excuse she’s about to give me.

Last night, kissing her for the first time… it confirmed everything I thought to be true. She’s it. My one. The variable I never knew was missing.

Though it may make me the douchebag of the century, I did attempt to call Annie yesterday, under the ruse of checking on the car, before anything actually happened between me and Lyra. I know it’s all semantics since I’ve been pursuing her almost the entire trip, but the decent person in me thought I should at least give my girlfriend a head’s up that I’d found my soul mate and officially needed to end things. You know, to ease my conscience from being a grade-A asshole cheater to just a piece-of-shit coward who delivers that kind of news over the phone from the other side of the globe.

It ended up not mattering since I couldn’t get a signal. And after trying for nearly thirty frustrating minutes, I finally gave up and went back inside before Lyra got out of her bath and came searching for me. My plan was to call again this morning when we came into town before I succumbed to the overpowering urge to make her mine. But when I saw her laid out on that chair by the pool last night, wearing only my T-shirt, so exquisite the stars themselves were jealous of her beauty, I knew there was no way I could deny myself another night without tasting her sweet pink lips.

Our mouths break apart once the need to breathe becomes too great to ignore, but I keep her nestled up close to me. “You’re gonna do this and you’re gonna love it, buttercup,” I rasp while stroking my thumb across the apple of her cheek. She purrs and leans into my touch, and I feel like the king of the world. “Nothing’s gonna happen to you today. I fuckin’ swear it.”

Lyra smiles shyly, my hand still cradling her cheek. “You don’t play fair with those kisses.”

“Fair is subjective. I live in absolutes.” I steal another chaste kiss, then add with a confident smirk, “And you are absolutely about to do this with me.”

For a split second, I think she’s going to argue again, but the glint of resistance fades as quickly as it appears, and she nods her head in agreement. “Okay, Professor West, but I’m expecting that kissed stupid thing later.”

My face stretches into what I’m sure is a ridiculous-ass grin, but I can’t help it. This girl drives me crazy.

“Deal,” I confirm then open the car door and unfold myself, still holding her to my chest.

Once I’m standing at full height, I slowly lower her to the ground, careful not to bump her wrapped fingers, and savor every second she’s pressed against my body. A tease of how she’ll feel pinned underneath me.

“So what is this exactly?” she asks while scanning the chutes and gear that’s scattered about in the open space next to the main building. “Are we skydiving? I’m not sure I’m ready to jump out of a plane. And what if I need my hand?”

I loop my arm around her shoulders and draw her closer then kiss the side of her head. “No planes and your hand will be just fine. This is paragliding, and they say this is the best place in the world to do it.”

Lyra looks up at me and wrinkles her tiny nose. “I’m not sure who they are, but maybe they should consider places where flying into the side of a mountain isn’t a possibility.”

Throwing my head back, I bark out a deep laugh. “It’s the thermal winds between the mountains that make flying possible here. The vertical wind shear is a function of a horizontal temperature gradient, or a variation in temperature over parallel distances. It’s also called baroclinic flow, and it acts like a heat bubble that shifts the winds as it rises up into the atmosphere.”

“Don’t math and science me this early in the morning,” she grumbles. “And you didn’t say anything about not pancaking into the side of a mountain.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen. I told you that.” I hold her stare, wanting so badly for her to be able to understand how sure of this I am. “Now come on, our flight time is at 8:30 and we still have to go through the instructional class.”

Grabbing her good hand, I lead her toward the large tan building where several people are milling around the main entrance. An older woman in a neon orange Tandemfly Dolomiti T-shirt holding a clipboard greets us as we enter the lobby with a super-sized smile and a cheerful “Ciao!”

Lyra glances up and offers the lady an acknowledging nod, but she doesn’t make eye contact. She rarely ever does with anyone but me. I’ve wanted to ask her about it on many occasions, but she’s so skittish I don’t want to put her on guard or have her run off. Especially not now that I’ve finally broken through her protective walls.

“Good morning,” I respond automatically as I pull up my reservation number on my phone. “I’m Octavian West and this is Lyra Jennings. I emailed yesterday about booking a trip for the two of us this morning.”

She peruses the list in front of her until she finds our names then checks them off. “Yes, Signore West,” she says, her Italian accent thick. “Zach and Anthony are waiting for you outside near the equipment, and they will go over everything you’ll need to know. Enjoy your ride.”

Back outside we go and, thanks to the bright-colored shirts all the employees seem to wear, it doesn’t take long to find our pilots. We exchange handshakes and a round of hellos, and surprisingly, as if she just heard my thoughts from a few minutes ago, Lyra actually meets the gaze of both men. It’s brief, but purposeful, almost as if she’s searching for something. And afterward, I feel her rigid body relax a fraction next to me.

We both pay rapt attention as they explain what we’ll be doing and the safety information. Thankfully, their English is clear and precise, making it easy for us to understand. When they finish the fifteen-minute instructional session, they step off to the side and wait for us to put on the lightweight nylon flying suits over our clothes, speaking in Italian to each other. Lyra laughs under her breath at something they say, and they both snap their attention to her, obviously as shocked as I am.

“Egli non pesa più di tanto, e posso urlare tutto il tempo,” she tells them, smirking.

“You speak Italian?” I ask, impressed, as I step into my suit and zip it up then move to help her do the same. “How many languages do you know?”

She chews on her bottom lip and peers up at me through her dark lashes. “I’m fluent in English, Spanish, Portuguese, Italian, and French. I know a little Latin, German, and Russian—enough to get by if I needed to.”

“What the hell, woman? What, are you a spy for the government?” I joke in an attempt to suppress my arousal. Fuck if she isn’t the smartest, sexiest woman I’ve ever met.

Chuckling, she shrugs likes it’s no big deal. “When you don’t have a social life or a regular nine-to-five gig, you have a lot of free time to read and teach yourself new things. I figured with my job as a photographer, it would be important to communicate in the places I want to travel to, so I started teaching myself in high school. I actually double majored in college in photography and linguistics.”

“So what did you just say to them?”

Her cheeks pinken as her gaze drops to the grass. “Nothing really.”

“Buttercup…” I lift her chin with two of my fingers, forcing her to look up at me. “What did you say?”

“They were deciding who would be paired up with who,” she admits, amusement dancing in her eyes, “and I basically told them even though you weigh more, I’ll probably scream in my pilot’s ear the entire time.”

I glower at the two men, both of who are around my age, and they at least have the decency to look somewhat contrite about arguing over which lucky bastard is going to get to fly with Lyra. Because I know that’s exactly what it was. I didn’t miss the way they checked her out when we walked up, not that I can really fault them much. It’s impossible to keep your eyes off her. She’s fucking gorgeous.

Lyra grabs my upper arm with her good hand and giggles, drawing my attention back to her. “Stop,” she whispers so that only I can hear. “They didn’t say anything rude or disrespectful. I think they’re just intimidated by your imposing size, babe.”

She squeezes my bicep and lifts up on her tiptoes to softly press her lips to the corner of my mouth, and just like that, my irritation is forgotten. Her kiss makes everything better, overwhelmingly effortless and easy. Her calling me ‘babe’ makes me feel larger and more profound than the vast mountain range surrounding us.

A feral growl rumbles in my chest as I fist her ponytail and crash my mouth onto hers, not giving a damn who watches us. I’ve never understood the caveman mentality until now, but fuck if this girl doesn’t make me want to throw her over my shoulder, slap her ass, and shout “Mine!” to everyone around us.

Once I’m finished with my shameless public declaration of being pussy-whipped, even if her sweet center is something I’ve only fantasized about thus far, we join the pilots near the gliders and start the process of getting strapped into the harnesses. I snicker under my breath when I notice that Zach, Lyra’s tandem partner, is trying his best not to touch her as he tightens the belts and ties. Scowling at my perverse enjoyment in the guy’s now reluctant handling of her, she sticks her tongue out at me.

“If something happens to me because I’m not properly fastened in this thing, it’s all your fault,” she grumbles to me once he’s finished with her and focused on his own gear.

I tug on her straps to ensure they’re snug and secure, which they are, then do the same to mine. “We’re all good, buttercup. Nothing’s gonna happen except for the most fan-fucking-tastic hour of your life. You can thank me later.”

After planting a purposeful kiss on her lips, I move over to Anthony, who steps into the harness behind me and buckles himself in. Adrenaline races through my veins, and despite the warm outside temperature and the bright morning sun beating down on me, goose bumps pop up on my arms and the back of my neck. This feeling right here—the buzzing anticipation and whirring excitement—is what I live for.

This… and now her.

Lyra and Zach are scheduled to go first, and after one last glance over her shoulder at me, the two of them take off running through the grassy field toward the edge of the cliff. My gut dips and my breath hitches as they run out of earth below their feet and launch themselves off the side of the mountain, and as the gust of wind catches the glider and thrusts them up into the sky, my face hurts I’m smiling so fucking big.

She’s doing it. She’s really doing it! Proud doesn’t even begin to describe the emotion erupting inside me right now.

“Our turn, big guy,” Anthony says from behind me. “An easy jog until my cue to jump.”

I nod and give him a thumbs-up, my eyes still on Lyra as she glides between the jagged peaks. I’m not sure if I’m more excited for her or me, even though I’ve dreamt about doing this for years.

He counts to three and we move in unison, gradually picking up speed as we approach the ledge. On his signal, I push off the ground with my last step and propel my weight forward, and after a split second of free fall, a thermal gust lifts the kite into the air and we’re flying high.

It’s in this moment as I soar freely like an uncaged bird over the awe-inspiring scenery below that I realize no matter what thrill-seeking adventures and exploits I tackle in the future, or what death-defying stunts I’ve survived in the past, nothing compares to the absolute rightness I feel when I’m with Lyra.

The pi to my circle of happiness.