chapter 48
Three months later, Liv gulped the cool air rushing through the open door and gripped the bench seat beneath her. The aluminum walls of the narrow cabin vibrated with the roar of the wind. Her palms collected sweat in the thick gloves. Her goggles steamed with humidity. And her smile was so big her cheeks hurt.
Josh sat on the bench across from her, his complexion a kaleidescope of grays and greens. He looked like he was going to throw up all over his red jumpsuit.
Mom had always said to reach for the sky, so she’d decided to do just that and followed Mom’s jump boots. Liv’s instructor position at the skydiving school outside of Austin enabled her to take Josh on his first jump without the nervous chatter of other newbie skydivers. It was just her and him and the sun-bleached sky.
She leaned forward and shouted over the shrill of the engine. “Changed your mind yet?” He snapped his arms out and bellowed some kind of indiscernible battle cry. Then he flashed her a panty-soaking smile.
The man had balls, and f*ck her but she loved those balls. She’d had them bound in a ball stretcher the previous night while she paddled his ass to a gorgeous shade of red. The memory kindled a damp heat between her legs. She wiggled, grinding her p-ssy against the seat.
His boot nudged hers. “You thinking about me?” he yelled.
She caught her lip between her teeth and shook her head, the whir of the turbo-props piercing her ears.
He’d transferred his classes to Austin University to pursue a teaching degree. He wanted to coach high school football. With only two semesters of schooling left, playing college ball wasn’t feasible.
He shrugged it off, saying that wasn’t part of his Freedom Plan.
Mr. and Mrs. Carter called daily. They were warming to her but had yet to visit their rental house of bed-sharing-sin. The freedom fighters, on the other hand, popped in frequently. Overwhelmed with their sudden wealth, they spoke of the future with glimmering, wide eyes. A future that included her and Josh.
She visited Livana several times a week. It was surreal, sitting in Mr. E’s house, in the rooms she’d memorized from various camera angles. Her time with Livana filled that empty hole inside her.
Some of that happiness included thoughts of Van. Despite the painful memories, she focused on his goodness with a tingling warmth in her face. Sometimes, while running errands or working in the yard at the rental, she’d feel a prickle on her spine and would catch herself squinting over her shoulder, scanning the street for a charcoal hoodie. He was out there somewhere, and she deeply hoped he found something worth living for.
Her gloved hand reached for Josh, and he caught it, squeezing her fingers, his smile cartwheeling through the wind.
The pilot shouted over his shoulder, “We’re one minute to drop zone.”
“Ready?” she mouthed.
“Yep.” He shook his head, still holding onto that sexy grin.
They shuffled toward the open door, weighted down by gear. She checked his emergency parachute one more time, spending unneeded seconds adjusting, tightening, and readjusting the harness between his legs. He laughed and ground his cock against her hand, the horny slut.
Satisfied with the buckles and position of the vest, she shifted his back to the open door with his heels touching the threshold. She grabbed his face, pressed her cheek against his, and shouted into the wind, “Trust me?”
He answered her with his tongue in her mouth, slashing and whipping, his lips strong and determined. His hands clutched the door frame with nothing but empty space behind him. She pulled back with a kiss on his bottom lip, cocked her head, and shoved his chest.
With an Oomph, he was gone.
The wind slapped at her body, thrashing her hair around her face. She sucked in a breath and leapt into the sea of blue? surrendering to the turbulence as it shot her through the air. She watched the plane fly away, her pulse thundering and her lips pulling away from her teeth. The shock to the heart was such a f*cking thrill.
She flipped to face downward and spotted her entire world coasting above the curvature of the Earth. He arched his pelvis, limbs out and steady, adapting to his environment so easily, just like he always did. Christ, she loved him, and she would never let him get away.
She arrowed her body, her arms balancing her legs. Using velocity and angling to manipulate the aerodynamics around her, she gained on him.
With the wind deep in her ears and flapping her clothes, she reached out her arms and caught him.
The gusts smothered his laugh, but his smile tangled around her, his eyes flickering through the goggles.
He entwined their legs, locked his hands around her back, and covered her mouth with his.
Spinning them to descend heads down and feet up, she matched the elated movements of his tongue, answering his affection with the slide of her smiling lips.
Nothing compared to the freedom of floating in his arms.
He would say the hand of God was holding them up, delivering them.
She called it love. Her heart didn’t fall. It flew.
COMING SUMMER 2014!
VANQUISH, the sequel to DELIVER (Van Quiso’s story)
In the meantime, check out other books by Pam Godwin:
BENEATH THE BURN
DEAD OF EVE
BREAKAWAY (New Adult Anthology)
Acknowledgements
To my critique partners and beta readers—Author Dana Griffin, Author C.K. Raggio, Author Lindsey R. Loucks, Lindy Winter, Jill Bitner, Cristen Abrams, Aries75, and Angie Halteman—for your scolding, your cheers, and your high standards for quality. You pushed me when I slouched and called bullshit when I rushed. I couldn’t have asked for a better critique group to kick my ass through every chapter of this book.
To Author Leila DeSint, for beta reading with a very wise and naughty red pen. Your advice is honest and crisp and exactly what I need to hear. I cherish your intuition and your friendship.
To Author Barbara Elsborg, for beta reading amidst your countless projects. Your mastery of the craft shines in your stories, and I’m so honored to be on the receiving end of such insightful advice.
I’m forever your fangirl.
To my editor, Jacy Mackin, for appreciating the tone of the story, annihilating my serial commas, and identifying the scenes that needed more roar. Your counsel never disappoints.
To my proofreader, Lesa Godwin, I’s cant’ publish in error free book witout you’re sharp eyes. I love you so damned much!
To my best friend, Amber’s Reading Room, for being a pillow to snot on, the PA who works for free, and the bestest companion for an old curmudgeonly writer. I wouldn’t have survived this writing cycle without your support. You’re stuck with me, oyster.
About the Author
Pam Godwin lives in the Midwest with her husband, their two children, and a foulmouthed parrot.
When she ran away, she traveled fourteen countries across five continents, attended three universities, and married the vocalist of her favorite rock band.
Java, tobacco, and dark romance novels are her favorite indulgences, and might be considered more unhealthy than her aversion to sleeping, eating meat, and dolls with blinking eyes.