Page 38 of Intoxicating Pursuit

I put things away so I wouldn’t have to worry later, then Gabe asked me to make a plate and follow him.

He led us to a balcony outside his bedroom, a secluded perch atop the covered back deck.

A bar-height cafe table with sleek lines and cushioned seats made a comfortable place to land.

The hill fell away sharply below the home, and the resulting view stretched endlessly, with few signs of civilization in sight.

Clouds had moved into the region, covering much of the sky and obscuring some of its color, but we could still watch hints of sunlight finish their descent into the mountains. We dug in to enjoy our dinner.

“This tastes awesome, Sammy. Thanks for cooking. That’s above and beyond.”

“I don’t mind at all.” I enjoyed the warm food and the Oregon Pinot Noir Gabe poured as the clouds shifted East, revealing hints of rosy color where light peeked through.

Even under the pall of a heavy sky, the splendor of the gorge seemed boundless.

“Boy, if you spend all your time around cheering fans, I bet this place is an amazing haven from the fray.”

“As long as there’s someone to enjoy it with, it’s hard to beat.”

At the cabin in North Carolina, Gabe talked about the house growing quiet lately. I could only imagine the depth of the solitude you’d feel if you found yourself alone out here.

As we ate, the western edge of the sky darkened from warm colors to a dusky twilight, and after dinner, Gabe really did open a bottle of port, making it hard to keep a straight face as we sipped and watched the night descend.

The balcony light was on, and little bugs buzzed around its glowing beacon in the darkness.

Eventually, fireflies winked in the trees below, and the quiet chirp of crickets rose around us in a soothing song.

We talked about his recent tour stops, about Trevor’s friends, and about our families.

We were well into our second glass of port, and the night sky had darkened to an inky black when Gabe paused the conversation.

“Sammy, I need to say, I really am sorry for what I did this week. I gave you terrible news, then piled on with accusations and made it worse. I’d take that back if I could. ”

I looked over at him. “Well, I’m sorry I ran away from the cabins in North Carolina.” I shrugged. “Turns out we’ve both rack up some scars in life. You’re more than forgiven. Truly.”

He stood up, walked behind my chair, and massaged my shoulders. “You deserve some relaxation.” His hands were strong, broad, and nimble. Sensation emanated in waves everywhere he stroked my skin.

"Unnnh." My head lolled forward.

He continued to work my muscles, loosening the kinks in my shoulders and neck.

“That feels incredible.” My whole body softened, becoming pliable in his hands.

“Come here. Stand up. I can do better.”

I was eager to do anything that continued his magic touches, and I followed Gabe to the deck railing.

He stepped behind me, pressed his hands against my neck, and began to work his warm fingers against my muscles again.

He deepened the massage, kneading the flesh behind my ears and rubbing his fingers along my hairline.

He loosened the tight sinew in my neck until I had no words.

Then he gradually shifted to long firm strokes across my shoulders and down the length of my arms and back, the halter neck and open back of the sundress baring my skin to his touch.

The heat and electricity built up on my body. I tried to turn to him, to kiss him, but he held me in place.

“Just stay there, Sammy. Let me make you feel good.”

He brought his body against my back, and planted slow, deep kisses across the sensitive skin of my neck.

I leaned my head against his shoulder, luxuriating in the charge of his touch, my heart rate rising.

He roved his hands to my hips, then up the front of my body, crisscrossing my belly, caressing my ribs, and sliding beneath my halter to cup my sensitive breasts in his warm palms. He grew hard against me.

I stilled his hands with my own. “Gabe.”

“Mmh?” He continued to kiss my neck.

His mouth was a wonder of the world, and my brain was melting at the edges. “Gabe. . . outside gets us in trouble.”

He gently pulled one of his hands free and moved it lower, beneath the hem of my dress, scattering spells across my thighs. “There’s no trouble for miles, Sammy.”

Logic was evaporating from my system, as his fingers found the lacy edge of my panties, teasing me through the thin fabric.

“Gabe. . . really. . . we should go inside.”

He finally paused. His chest rose and fell against my back. “Wait here a second, okay?”

He disappeared into the bedroom. A click sounded from the door in the hallway, and the bedroom lights blinked off. His footfalls crossed the carpet, then the outdoor lanterns went dark. Only his dim outline showed when he rejoined me on the balcony, sliding the screen door shut.

We stood beneath a profound blanket of night.

I leaned my hands against the barely discernible railing, looking out into the inky landscape.

Heavy clouds obscured all but a few scant stars and peekaboo views of a silver, crescent moon, hanging low in the western sky.

The river wasn’t visible except for the moon’s fleeting reflection on the water.

The foothills and mountains that should have dominated the horizon remained hidden.

I saw no streetlamps, no lights from other homes, no passing cars.

Twinkling fireflies and the night sounds of the insects were the only hints life still surrounded us.

Gabe stepped behind me again, leaning his warm body against mine, wrapping his sturdy arms around my torso. “See. Nothing for miles,” he breathed. The hypnotic strength of his hands found my curves. “Still wanna go inside?” His magical mouth moved to my neck again.

What do I want? I want him. I want this pleasure, this peace, this utter escape from everything. “You, Gabe. You’re what I want,” I whispered.

He slipped his hands under my dress, and a laugh burst out nearby.

Kids’ voices drifted to us, and lights blazed on from the covered deck below. A door slammed shut. Conversations peppered the air.

“Ugh.” Gabe’s hands stilled on my thighs. He collapsed his forehead against my shoulder.

I turned to him, keeping my cheek close to his. "Inside," I breathed. The hearty bulk of his body pressed against mine. “Inside will be just as good.”

He led the way to the bed, and we did make it good.

The way he moved inside me reminded me why the mere thought of his touch could boil my blood. . . why the memory of his heft stayed with me long after our time in Creekside.

Our phone calls hadn’t gone to waste either—we had both paid attention. He found my triggers with ease, and I said the words I knew sent him sailing. He pounded me in waves until my muscles grew limp, my nerves exploded, and our pleasure crashed around us in earth-shaking tremors.

Later that night, lulled by release, I finally drifted into a solid sleep, no longer searching in the dark for answers that didn’t exist.