Songbird (Songbird, #1) (30 page)

I sighed, partly for the sensation on my neck and ear, and partly for what my palms were caressing—his glorious body, every muscle clearly defined.

He slid his thumb inside my thong as it continued its onslaught before reaching down and opening his towel, and then he effortlessly lifted me, and pulling my thong to one side, lowered me down onto him.

I moaned deeply at the sensation of him inside me as I wrapped my arms around his neck, and then set the balls of my feet firmly on the floor to get my balance.

Riley’s hands were on my hips as they moved me back and forth, setting the rhythm and depth. I kissed him passionately on the lips, our tongues seeking each other’s out as our pace fastened and the intensity grew. I breathed heavily as I sat back and rested one hand on Riley’s knee for balance.

He groaned deeply through clenched teeth and growled, “Oh fuck, babe …” as he gripped my hips more forcefully. Every muscle in his arms and chest tensed as he moved me back and forth, his eyes locked with mine.

I couldn’t hold on. I dug my nails into his knee as my body tensed and I cried out. His release soon followed, his eyes never leaving mine until he finally pulled me into him and rested his forehead against my own, our hearts still racing.

“God I love you,” he said breathlessly.

I smiled and rubbed the tip of my nose against his. “I love you, too.”

S
AYING GOODBYE
to Riley at the airport was ten times worse than it had been the first time because we had become so close, and would now be spending more time apart. I had almost managed to hold it together at the departure gate, but sobbed uncontrollably once he had boarded the plane, and continued crying into my pillow for most of the night.

The only time I stopped was when he called to let me know he had landed, and, hearing me cry over the phone, had become distressed. I didn’t want to upset or worry him, so I forced myself to stop and reassured him that I was fine.

As soon as he had hung up, the waterworks started again, but he didn’t need to know that.

It would be five weeks before Riley was due back for Christmas. Five weeks to try to fill my time with ordinary, boring life, until I could see him again.

Speaking to Riley became the highlight of my day whenever he had the opportunity to call, which unfortunately was only two or three times a week.

On the days he couldn’t phone he would send me sneaky text messages, telling me he loved me and missed me. I would read these messages over and over again, trying to imagine his voice saying those words. He had given me his schedule so I knew which nights he would call, and I would make sure I was home and alone so we could talk without interruption.

It became a ritual for me to pour a glass of wine, and curl up on the couch, waiting for the phone to ring.

I loved hearing about what he was up to, and the funny things that the other guys in the unit had done. But as the weeks went by, I began to feel more and more like a spectator of Riley’s life, and less like a part of it.

He would tell me about the training that they were doing, including helicopter flying, and how hard things were, or how much fun they had been. But I didn’t really know what some of the military terms meant. At first I would ask him to explain things to me, but after a while I felt a bit silly for not knowing, so I just let him talk. He would talk about people I hadn’t met, and places they’d gone to that I had never been. He would ask me what I had been up to, but my life seemed so boring compared to his that I usually just skimmed over the details.

It had been three weeks, and I was feeling further away from him than ever before. But most of all, I just missed
him
. I missed seeing him, and touching him, and being able to cuddle up to him at night. I missed his facial expressions; his piercing sapphire-blue smiling eyes, and the way he could make me feel just by looking at me.

I decided we needed to make more memories of our own that would help us feel closer when we couldn’t be together. So it became a project for me to find things to do when he was back in Melbourne for Christmas.

“We need to go out,” Kelli said one night.

We had been watching a DVD and eating pizza at my apartment, which seemed to be our standard thing to do on a Friday evening.

“I don’t feel like going out,” I protested.

“That’s why we
should
go out. You’re doing exactly what I said we shouldn’t do: you’re waiting for Riley to come back and
complete you
.” She placed her hands melodramatically over her heart as she said it.

“What can I say? He had me at hello,” I replied with a shrug.

“Oh, I love that movie!” It was Jason. I had taken to not locking my apartment door—the security door should be security enough—and he had let himself in. “Are we watching Jerry Maguire?”

“We can if you want to,” I replied, looking for an excuse to not go out.

“NO! We are having a girl’s night out, and we are going to have fun.” Kelli had put her foot down, and there was no point in arguing with her—she would not back down once she had set her mind on something. “We don’t want them thinking we’re just sitting here waiting for them to show up.”

She had her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows at me, daring me to disagree with her.

Obediently, I got up and went into the bedroom to search for the cutest outfits I could find in the wardrobe to go clubbing in.

The music was pumping as Kelli and I entered
Ice Pick
, and made our way straight for the dance floor. The place was huge, at least four times the size of
Songbirds
, with a long bar that ran the entire length of one wall and was lit in neon ice-blue.

There were podiums placed strategically around the room, and a few had girls dancing on them—not paid dancers, just people from the crowd who felt the need for a little more attention to be aimed their way.

We found a spot on the dance floor that was just big enough for two, and joined the throng of people jumping up and down to the beat of the music, arms in the air. Kelli was fairly uncoordinated, but she threw everything she had into it, so you couldn’t help but do the same.

We were bumped and rubbed up against by girls and guys alike, either deliberately or because it was so packed you couldn’t avoid it.

It was getting hot, and I could feel the perspiration run down my back. I grabbed the hair-tie I seemed to always have around my wrist for emergencies, and pulled my long, soft curls back into a messy ponytail. That was better. I’d decided on my shimmery blue halter-neck top and skinny pants, and with my hair off my back, my skin could cool down a little.

Finally, when we were both too hot and sweaty and in need of a break, we headed to the bar to buy a drink.

We made our way through the crowd to the bar, and waited five people deep until we finally reached the front of the queue. We were standing at the bar trying not to touch the black, sticky counter top, waiting to catch the eye of the barman, yelling to each other so we could be heard.

“Next time, I want to go see a band, okay?” I shouted.

Kelli nodded just as the barman came over.

“We have a band here,” the barman shouted at us. “They’re playing upstairs.” He pointed in the direction of a staircase over on the far wall.

I smiled and mouthed
thanks
—there was no point shouting unnecessarily. So we ordered a couple of
Budweisers
and a shot of tequila each, and headed for the stairs.

We made our way upstairs and found a table. There was music playing over the speakers, and I assumed the band was yet to go on. The lighting was subdued compared to downstairs, just stage lights and a couple over the bar. All around the outside of the room were tables, and in the centre was a busy but not packed dance floor, where people bopped up and down with drinks in hand.

I smiled at Kelli; now this was more like it. I loved everything about live music, from the performance aspect to the musicians, and the originality of the songs. Even the music that was playing now before the band came on was more like pub music.

I looked over at the table beside the stage. There was a large group of girls milling around it.
Must be the band’s table
. I was watching the girls and the way they flicked their hair and stuck out their boobs to get noticed, when I saw a familiar face walk over to the table.

I laughed, and Kelli looked at me, puzzled. I pointed over to the guy; she looked, then looked a little more closely, and shrugged.