Winter Jacket: Finding Home (3 page)

I quickened my pace inside her and her surprisingly strong legs tightened around my hips like a vice.  “Yes, Elle,” she moaned into my neck.  “God, your fingers,” she babbled. “Don’t stop. Make me feel it.”

When her teeth scraped against my neck, I almost lost control. She pulled her hands free from my hold and raked her fingernails down my back, having wiggled her hands under my thin tank top.  I arched my back, loving the rough touch and I thrust into her a little harder.

I wormed my newly free hand under her top, forcing the material to release its hold on her sweaty, damp skin. I grabbed onto a well-proportioned breast. Panting, I felt like a prepubescent boy reaching second base for the first time. Not bothering to unsnap the undergarment, I slipped my hand beneath the underwire of her bra and rolled an already tight nipple between two expert fingers.

“Fuck,” she chanted, slamming her eyes shut.  “Fuck … fuck, baby.”

I could feel her tightening even more around my two fingers; she wouldn’t be able to hold on for much longer. “Just let go, baby,” I softly urged. I kissed and licked at her collarbone, tasting the saltiness of her skin.

With each penetrating thrust, my thumb bumped into her aching clit, and I felt her stiffen against my body. I buried my fingers deep inside her and rubbed the bit of flesh with the pad of my thumb.  Her pussy spasmed around my saturated fingers, swallowing me repeatedly as she cried out. I continued to rub relentlessly until I felt the quivering and pulsing stop.

My body collapsed on top of hers in exhaustion. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was heavy, but the small, satisfied smile on her curled up lips let me know I had done my job well.

I gently kissed her sweaty forehead and pushed away some errant strands stuck to her skin. “Good?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

She hummed her approval and carnally rolled her hips into mine. I couldn’t help the loud groan that fell out of my mouth; I was so worked up, all she needed to do was touch me and I’d pop.

A sweet smile crept onto her lips.  “So where’s next on your list?”

CHAPTER ONE

There are signs everywhere if you know what you’re looking for—signs that tell you you’re doing something wrong. Go back. Detour. Choose again. Do not collect two hundred dollars when you pass Go. But I hadn’t paid attention to the warnings, too blinded by ambition and the desire to experience something new. Simply put: I was making a terrible, horrible mistake.

It was at an off-season ski resort in Colorado where Hunter began to second-guess my decision to move to California.

Her pale blue eyes were watching me when I woke up. A window was cracked open in the hotel room, and the translucent curtain fluttered from an outside breeze, struggling to block out the early morning sun.

“G’morning, love,” I said groggily.

Her mouth twitched in one corner. “I keep hoping you’ll change your mind.”

I sat up in bed and rubbed roughly at my face. The bed was serviceable, but far from the luxury resort I had expected when we’d checked in. I hadn’t made any reservations or done any research on places to stay along our route from Minnesota to southern California. Not having a schedule allowed us to stop periodically and take in things like the World’s Largest Ball of Twine, but we also risked staying at underwhelming hotels like the one we currently found ourselves.

We’d stopped in the ski resort town the previous night. Because it was the off-season for the mountain town, rooms and rates were reasonable even at the fanciest of ski lodges. I had been hoping for ski resort luxury, but the section of the hotel where they’d put us looked as though it hadn’t been updated since the 1990’s.

The room description called it a junior suite, but it better resembled a king dump. I hadn’t seen any bugs, but that wouldn’t have surprised me. The cream-colored carpeting was worn and stained. The Formica countertops in the kitchenette were peeling at the edges and a foreboding scent was coming in the direction of the refrigerator. I hadn’t been brave or foolish enough to seek out the foul-smelling culprit. Our patio had no furniture, unless you counted the two metal folding chairs I found propped against the wall, not that we had a mountain view to tempt us outside. It was probably the only room in the whole resort that didn’t look out onto the mountains that surrounded the quaint town.

“We’ve been over this,” I reminded her.                  

“I know we have. And I know I said I’d support you either way,” she sighed, “but I think I underestimated what that would mean for us with you in California.”

“We’ll only be apart for a short while, Hunt. It’s just a few months.” The words I spoke were for myself as much as they were for her. I was giving Troian from the end of August through December—the entire length of my sabbatical—to see if I had a future in writing for television.  “I want to be scared,” I continued. “I want to be challenged. I’m not saying teaching is easy, but it’s too easy to dial it in now that I’m tenured.”

She threw the comforter off her side of the bed, and I watched her pad out of the bedroom. “I’m going to take a shower,” she called over her shoulder.

I stared at the doorway through which she’d disappeared with knots in my stomach. Even if I had been invited to conserve water with her, as was our tradition, the shower was too small for the both of us. I’d probably have a hard time washing my own hair later without bruising my elbows.

My cell phone was on the bedside table. Despite the early hour, Troian answered my call after one ring.

“Are you here?” she demanded, the excitement audible in her tone.

“No. I’m in Colorado.” We’d been on the road for two days. Another day and a half of driving and we would reach Los Angeles.

“Hurry up.”

“I need more time with Hunter. I’m not ready to give her up.”

“What does that mean?” Troian asked. “Are you still coming out here?”

“Yeah, I am.” I glanced in the direction of the bathroom. “We’re just taking a few days detour if that’s okay.”

“As long as those ‘few days’ don’t turn into a week.”

It was going to be very strange having Troian as my boss, but I knew our relationship was solid enough to withstand any boss/minion conflicts—or at least I hoped it would be.

“Remind me why she’s going back to Minnesota?” she asked.

I shoved the hair off my forehead. “Because that’s where her life is,” I explained. “Her work, her family, her friends.”

“But not her girlfriend.”

I didn’t need this from my best friend, too; Hunter had made the same argument too many times.

“I’ve gotta go,” I said. I didn’t want to have this conversation for the umpteenth time.

“When are you getting here?” Troian pressed. “I need to give Human Resources a heads up so they’ll have the keys to your apartment ready.”

I quickly did the mental math. “Four days.”

Troian’s sigh rattled in my ear. “Make it five. Come find me at the lot on Saturday to get your apartment keys. We’ll start you bright and early on Monday.”

“Thanks, Boss,” I smiled into the phone.

The shower turned off in the bathroom, but I had one more phone call to make.

+ + +

Hunter tossed her duffle bag into the backseat of my car. My trunk and most of the backseat were filled with all the belongings I anticipated needing over the next few months. Most of my life remained in Minnesota, however.

“How many states are we tackling today?” she asked. She had been uncharacteristically quiet after her shower as we’d both gotten ready for the day. The knots in my stomach had intensified with each passing moment.

“None.”

Her eyes squinted with confusion. “What? Why?”

“I thought we could hang out in Colorado for a little longer. I called Troian and told her not to expect us for a few more days.” I paused to lick my lips. “Unless you want to keep on going until we get to Los Angeles?”

Hunter glanced in the direction of the hotel where we’d spent the previous night and chewed on her lower lip. I could tell she was weighing staying additional nights there into her reply; I could practically see the internal struggle play out on her facial features. Getting to Los Angeles sooner meant her leaving. But staying in Colorado, if I intended on making her stick it out in this relic of a hotel, might not be preferable. But Hunter was too polite to tell me she thought this hotel was a dump.

I started to laugh at her indecision.

She put her hands on her hips. “What’s so funny?”

“I love you, that’s what.” The grin on my face made my cheeks hurt. “Get in the car.”

We drove out of the small ski town that morning, happy to have the resort area in the rearview mirror. The terrain became progressively hillier and a thick fog settled on the county highway. Visibility was limited, and Hunter, sensing I was having a hard time concentrating on the road in front of me, stayed cautiously quiet. Her curiosity about where we were headed next couldn’t remain stifled forever, however.

She peered through the passenger side window at the clusters of evergreen trees beyond the car’s window. “Where are you taking me?”

“Why? Are you nervous?”

“People disappear out here.”

“Just trust me,” I smiled, flipping on my blinker and turning onto an unpaved road. The in-car navigation system turned on and off as we ventured deeper into the woods and far off the grid.

A few miles in, the canopy of evergreen trees parted to reveal bright blue skies. It was almost as if we’d gone through a magic portal to another land. There was no sign of the fog that had earlier plagued our drive.

I heard Hunter’s quiet murmur of approval as she craned her neck to get a better view of the horizon. We’d seen plenty of mountains in our drive across Colorado, but nothing like these purple mountains majesty. It was almost enough to make a cynic like myself feel patriotic.

We passed a few mailboxes that appeared unaffiliated with any houses before we came upon a small log cabin set a few hundred feet back from the road. When I slowed down in front of the driveway, Hunter turned away from the view outside. “Who lives here?”

“We do. For the next few days at least.”

“You rented a house for us?”

“I rented a cabin with a mountain view,” I corrected.

“When? How?” she marveled.

“When you were in the shower I called the rental place that manages the house we had last Christmas in Malibu. It was a long shot, but it turned out they had an available property not too far away.”

Even though we had another hundred yards until we reached our destination, I stopped the car in the road. I hadn’t seen another vehicle in the past half an hour, so I assumed it would be safe. Hunter unfastened her seatbelt and scrambled out of the front seat. I turned the key in the ignition to stop the car and joined my girlfriend outside.

“You look like you’re about to burst into song,” I noted with a wry smirk. She was slowly spinning in the center of the gravel road with her arms spread out like wings and her chin tilted towards the sunny, clear blue sky.

“Can you blame me? This view is straight out of
The Sound of Music.
I expect Maria Von Trapp to run across the field any second.”

Hunter dropped her arms at her sides and turned to me, her face lit up with happiness. It made my heart flutter inside its cage of ribs to see her so happy and to know that I was the reason behind it. It honestly still seemed improbable, if not impossible, that we’d made this relationship work.

“It
is
quite the view,” I smiled.

She strode purposefully toward me and wrapped her arms around my neck. She leaned in, her soft mouth just centimeters from my own. “Can’t get enough of
this
view,” she murmured. Her sweet breath felt warm on my face.

I closed the short distance between our mouths and hungrily took her bottom lip in between my upper and lower teeth. I sucked the pouting lip into my mouth and heard the quiet growl that radiated deep in her throat. I pressed my lips solidly against Hunter’s upturned mouth and darted my tongue out between my teeth to swab at her bottom lip.

My wandering hands found themselves in the small of her back and they toyed with the bottom hem of her pastel-colored top. My fingertips felt the heat of her pale skin, and I wanted nothing more than to feel the expanse of that heat, naked and pressed against my own body.

I paused when I heard the whistle. I reluctantly pulled myself away from Hunter’s addictive mouth and looked past her head to see a group of hikers, about four or five of them, standing at a distance and collectively giving us two thumbs up.