To be me and still be longed after is one of the best experiences, one I never really knew I needed this badly.
He glances at my chalk bag. “That hooked on right?”
“Yeah.” Does my voice sound raspy? “I’m all secure.” I recheck again, just to be safe.
He curls his hair behind his right ear, then left, and he leans in. My heart races as he places a tender kiss on my lips. I smile against his mouth, and while I lean in more, his hand dips to the small of my back. When we break, I feel nervous.
Because Akara is also here.
How the fuck does the Bachelorette date like fifteen guys at once?
As Banks reluctantly steps back, he tells me, “Stay frosty.”
I’ve heard him say that phrase to other bodyguards before. “What does that mean? Stay frosty?”
“Stay cool.” His shadow of a smile reappears. “Stay on your toes.”
I like that. “You stay really fucking frosty.”
“Not frostier than you.”
Akara approaches me like he’s chugging a gallon of antifreeze. He gives me a look like put me out of my misery, Sul.
I return that with a glare. “I’m allowed to flirt, Kits.”
“I’m just trying to switch the TV channel off the Hallmark Movie.”
I check my harness again. “What are you putting on instead? Stranger Things?” It’s his favorite TV show. If it’s trending and popular, Kits has seen it. If it’s obscure, he’s never given it any time. My mom has a theory that Akara tunes into popular things because there’s less risk of disappointment. He’s too busy to be let down by the few things he has time for.
“Stranger Things would be up there.” He smiles, stopping an inch away. “So would Breaking Bad, The Walking Dead—”
“You’d rather watch flesh-eating zombies attack me than me and Banks—”
“We wouldn’t let a zombie attack you,” Akara cuts in fast, then he emphasizes, “I wouldn’t.”
I smile. “Oh no, it’s already too fucking late, you included him.”
Akara shakes his head into a smile. His eyes descend my build, much like Banks’ did. “What about if I tune into Fifty Shades.”
I snort. “Right, like you’ve watched that.”
“I haven’t,” he admits, “but I could probably show you how to knot this.” His fingers brush mine as he takes an end of the rope out of my hand.
My heart skips and a strong pulse throbs between my legs. After Moffy’s bachelor party this summer, I walked in on Banks and Akara’s conversation about rope and sex. Mainly, Akara was showing Banks knots using a shoelace.
He’s more experienced than me.
Fucking duh.
They both are.
I reclaim my rope, our fingers brushing again. “Maybe later.”
He nods, and our eyes do a back-and-forth dance that speeds my pulse. Anticipation intensifies before he places a light kiss on my cheek. Then he touches my chin, lifting my mouth up, his lips meet mine in a softer, more sensual kiss that dizzies me.
Fuck. Breathe.
I grip his neck while his tongue slides against mine. I feel like I’m falling and I haven’t even started the climb.
As we pull apart, I can barely lock eyes with Akara without blushing. I touch my burning face.
He inhales strongly. “See you, string bean.”
“Yeah. Bye.” I wave behind me and shake my head at myself, facing the rock and cringing. “What the fuck, Sulli?” I blow out a controlled breath.
Focus.
Concentrate.
I kick more dirt off my shoes. Shake out my limbs.
Concentrate.
I glance back one more time.
Akara and Banks stay next to each other. Spectating several feet behind me, they’re two men, older than me, and I’d be more intimidated if they didn’t make me feel powerful.
I liked dating Will Rochester—that first experience was a pretty good one—but I realize how small I felt around him. Like there were parts of me that I should hide a bit better.
Try not to say cum so often. Shave a little bit more. Strapless shirts need to go because if I show my muscular shoulders, he won’t be into me as much.
Stupid.
So fucking stupid, and most of those were just my insecurities rising up like a swelling tide.
I face forward with a stronger, deeper breath.
With Akara and Banks, I feel as mighty as the mountain I’m about to climb.
Concentrate.
While they watch me prepare, I realize I’m used to their protective gazes on me while I climb. Having them here begins to calm me. My pulse eases, and the rush of the river, the chirp of birds, and rustle of leaves all fall silent.
It’s just me and the rock…and my dad.
I smile up at the crag. Imagining him in his teens, using his raw strength to free-solo to the fucking top, and here I am, years later.
“I’ll see you up there, Dad,” I whisper, my heart filling. “I just have to practice first.”
With another measured breath, I see the path I need to take like a map in the natural stone. Smiling, I grip the rough edge.
And I ascend.
20
BANKS MORETTI
Covertly, I pop three Advil in my mouth while Akara and I watch Sulli’s first day of climbing. The pain meds aren’t for my internal oohs and ahhs and Mary, Mother of Gods seeing Sulli do death-defying shit. It’s just for the thunder-fucking headache.
Though, watching her climb is incredible and agonizing. Her strength and agility are on full display as she scales the rock over and over. Nothing I could accomplish.
Right now, the harder pill to swallow is knowing I can’t do anything for her. It’s all Sulli up there, and I can only protect her once she’s back on solid ground.
The upside: she’s still climbing with rope.
She’ll be practicing for a while, until she’s positive she can climb without safety gear.
Akara is beside me. Quiet. He hasn’t said anything since this morning when we kissed her. With Sulli in the air and us on the ground, we only have each other’s company. Cell service went to hell once we left our campsite, and our comms connection was lost too.
Akara has been sitting. Leaning against a flat rock that juts up like an arrowhead.
I can’t sit down.
My arms are crossed. My nerves at an all-time high watching her attempt the same portion of cliff over and over again.
She leaps between one protruding rock to another, a cavernous hole separating them. Each time she tries, she misses the second handhold, and her rope catches her before she falls.
“She’s gotta do that without a harness,” I whisper more to myself.
Akara must hear because he says, “It’s not a big gap. She’s done larger. I think she’s just unfocused.”
I uncross my tensed arms. “So we’re distracting her?”
“Probably,” he says, but he doesn’t seem worried. “She’s careful. She won’t free-solo until she’s ready.” His confidence in her—and lack of blatant outright fear—reminds me how much he’s seen her climb over the years. How much he’s probably watched Sulli’s dad and sister also scale mountains.