Long Way Down (Calloway Sisters 4)

I can’t help but smile, especially as I hear his heavy breath, attempting to restrain his climax so this’ll last longer. His gaze is all over my body, exploring me.

Then he gently lets go of my wrist.

I have barely any use of my core muscles right now, so I fall further, staring upside-down at the ground like a hanging towel. I laugh, happiness floating all around me. I reach towards the grass but of course I’m ten-stories away.

The only thing keeping my ass on the railing: Ryke’s sole hand on my knee. He could’ve held my shoulders, my waist, my bicep—anything more substantial. But he picked my knee.

Because he knew I’d love this. Right here.

When blood starts rushing to my head, I raise my arms back towards Ryke, and he clasps my wrist again, lifting my torso up. I hug him, my eyes flitting between his and the way our bodies meet.

His eyes do the same but manage to stay on mine a great deal more.

I rock my hips a little, and the pressure, the fullness, inside of me causes me to clench and then pulse all over again.

“Fuck,” he grunts, lifting me higher off the railing, his arms underneath my legs and hand on my ass and the other on the small of my back. So he can pound faster. I moan into his chest, totally gone. I want him to do what he wants with me, and he rams rapidly. Until we both climax together.

Stay inside of me. I don’t have to ask. He keeps me full, carrying me back inside and sliding the door and curtains closed. He brings me to our bed. Beneath the covers, facing one another, we kiss affectionately, my leg hiked over his waist.

We both grind into each other, his cock creating more friction inside of me. He lets me catch my breath again, our bodies talking as they meld together.

Then I hear intense feet against the hallway. Like people are running frantically back and forth. The mumbled voices are enough to cause both of us to freeze.

I don’t conclude the worst like I might’ve three years ago. No paparazzi or crazies ready to break in and assault us. I listen closely with Ryke. “Do you hear that?” I sit up a little more, and he presses his hand on my shoulder, pushing me back down.

“Hold on, Dais,” he says, carefully pulling out of me. The full feeling still lingers, even though he’s gone.

Again, I listen and spot the jingling of Coconut’s collar. “Coconut,” I tell him. Rose offered to keep Coconut in her room tonight so “a slobbering canine won’t watch you fuck” (her exact words). Something is either wrong with our dog or Rose, and since she’s very pregnant, I’m going to choose the latter.

Both Ryke and I are out of bed in a quick second. I grab the hotel’s white cotton robe and tie it around me, while he pulls on his gray drawstring pants.

I reach the door first, but hesitate for a brutal second, the anxiety of my past rattling me. You can do this. Just you. No one is going to hurt me.

I clasp the knob and turn.

“Which hospital is she going to?” Lo shouts into his phone, Lily and Willow racing down the hallway. They both knock repeatedly on another door.

Coconut sprints between them and Lo.

A lump lodges in my throat. Moffy crying in the hall and repeating what sounds like Janie. Something happened to Jane?

“Lo,” Ryke says, barreling into the hallway.

Lo holds up his finger at him. “Whatever you said wasn’t English,” he says to the person on the phone.

I whistle at Coconut so she’ll calm down, and she skips to my side and basically collapses at my feet with a heavy, lopsided smile and pant. She’s the only happy one here.

I rub her belly. “Moffy,” I call to the little boy dressed in red Spider-Man flannel pajamas.

He hiccups but ambles over to me, noticing Coconut in a submissive state, he pets her belly and cries against her white fur.

She senses his sorrow and licks his cheek.

Lily and Willow corral my mom from her sleep. She ties a silk robe, her face without any makeup. Her natural look contains more wrinkles and frown lines, but Lily says a few words under her breath, and my mom springs to action, walking quickly over to us.

“They came into the hallway on their own,” Lo snaps, “so you can tell her to stop telling me not to fucking disturb them because they’re here.” His daggered eyes dart from Ryke to me. “Yeah? Just text me the directions. Stay safe.” He hangs up his phone call with Connor, most likely.

“What the fuck is going on?” Ryke curses.

Lo slips his phone in his pocket. “Rose is having contractions, and she doesn’t want to have a baby in the back of a limo again, so they went to the hospital. Connor thinks there’s a chance she’ll go into labor tonight.”

She’s a little early. “Should we all go to the hospital?” I ask. If our positions were switched, Rose would drop the entire globe to be there for any of us.

“We are, you aren’t,” Lo tells Ryke and me.

I exchange a look with Ryke, both of us struggling to accept this plan. It seems wrong.

“Hey, remember that speech your friend said today about you two being selfish?” Lo tells us. “Yeah that starts now. You’re staying here. Doing what people do on wedding nights. Going to the hospital isn’t one of those things.”

Lo flashes a half-smile that’s the equivalent of dropping the microphone and exiting stage left. No more room for discussion.

I look to Ryke and he says, “Let’s stay, Dais.”

I nod in agreement, deciding that Rose would probably want me to enjoy tonight.

I just hope we’re making the right choice.

RYKE MEADOWS

Seated in the front of Eddie’s truck, the vehicle bounces along the jagged, primitive terrain. Tan crags loom on either side of us, jutting to the fucking sky.

From the bed of the truck, Sul sticks his head to the opened window between Eddie and me. “Eres horrible contando historias,” Sully says to me. You’re horrible at telling stories.

Eddie laughs.

I roll my eyes, busy checking Sully’s fucking carabiners since I found a faulty gate on one. “Te dije la parte importante.” I told you the important part. I find another ratchet fucking piece of gear and hold it up to Sul’s face. “What the fuck.”

“It has another climb in it,” he refutes, “and I asked what happened when everyone went to the hospital for Rose. You can’t just say false labor.” That was four days ago, which is why I’m now on the outskirts of Cusco, Peru to climb. When Dais and I picked Peru for our wedding, I’d always planned to meet with Sully at the end of the trip.

The honeymoon adventure with Daisy came to a close this morning. She flew one hour to Lima with her sisters, Connor, and Lo. In a couple of days, I’ll meet Daisy back in the country’s capital. Then we’ll all fly home to Philly.

“I didn’t go to the fucking hospital,” I explain. “My brother said by the time they arrived they were already discharging Rose.” She’s fine. Her contractions weren’t the real thing, and the doctor said that she didn’t need to rush home.

Sully starts going off in Spanish about bouldering yesterday, and I tune him out to concentrate on the safety of his equipment. About a half hour later, the truck slows in front of a narrow path, wedged between two rock walls.

I step out and lug my gear off the truck while Sully hops off the back. “Qué tan lejos hasta llegar a la pared?” I ask Eddie. How far until we reach the wall?

He motions with his hand like not too far before saying, “Tal vez una caminata de quince minutos.” Maybe a fifteen minute walk.

Sully elbows my arm. “Nada que no podamos hacer.” Nothing we can’t do. He fixes his own gear on his back. I rip off the carabiner from his sling that I fucking rejected and throw it in a grisly shrub.

Sully bristles. “Dude, that was expensive.”

“I’ll buy you a fucking new one.”

He nods.

Then I turn back to Eddie. “Seguro que no quieres subirte a la roca?” You sure you don’t want to climb th

e rock? He’s frequented this remote spot since the eighties.

Eddie smiles. “Hoy no.” Not today. “Ten cuidado, amigo.” Be careful, friend. He reverses his truck, tires kicking up dirt before he disappears out of sight.

The sun blazes, heat gathering across my skin. My fucking shirt suctions to my abdomen, and I trudge on, sipping water from my CamelBak. Maybe a minute later, my phone vibrates. “We have signal,” I tell Sul.

“You think we can order a pizza?” Sully grins.

“Sure.” I retrieve my cell. “Tell the delivery guy to meet us at the summit.” Two thousand feet high.

“He better pack a helmet—shit.” Sully stops midway, trampling a weed that blooms from dirt. His jaw is fucking ajar, staring past me at the desolate horizon. He dazedly pats his head.

I tense and wipe sweat off my forehead with my shirt’s collar. “What?”

His worried eyes ping to me. “I left my helmet in the back of the truck.”

“Fuck,” I curse, spinning sideways to examine the crag on the right. Our specific route is close—just the other side of this cliff—but the unknown area poses real fucking threats like loose rock. We have no idea what we’re climbing onto.

“I’ll go without one.” Sully unties a green bandana from his belt loop.

“No,” I reject the idea almost instantly. “You can wear mine.”