Break the Sky (Spiral of Bliss Spin Off) (24 page)

We drove for another hour. I watched the sky. Lightning split through the clouds, followed by the rumble of thunder. I looked at the radar again and called Colton, who gave me details from the Rapid Refresh model.

“One more hour,” I told Archer. “It’s heading in this direction. Let’s stop and get something to eat. If it’s not here by nightfall, we’ll be done for the day.”

He pulled into a diner, where several trucks and vans were parked in the lot. We went inside, the noise of male voices filling the interior.

I scanned the crowd, picking out at least four tables of storm chasers. If I hadn’t caught snippets of conversation about wind shear and instability, I’d have known them from their attire of jeans, T-shirts, and baseball caps, and the laptops and tablets sitting between their plates of steak and eggs.

“Kelsey?” A male voice, sounding surprised, made me turn. A beefy, bearded guy approached, looking me up and down. “I’ll be damned.”

I smiled. “You were damned a long time ago, Henry.”

“True enough.” A grin split through his beard as we exchanged a hug. “What’re you doing here? I thought you were stuck in a classroom somewhere.”

“I usually am,” I admitted. “But I thought I’d come out for a while. Henry, this is my friend Archer. Archer, Henry and I were in grad school together.”

They exchanged greetings, and Henry invited us to join his group for dinner. As we followed him to a crowded table, the guys shuffled around to make room for two more chairs. Henry introduced us to the meteorologists, grad students, lab workers, drivers, and photographers who’d all gone out together in a fleet.

We compared notes on the storm, talked about their plans and ours, and checked our data against each other’s. Everyone hummed with excited energy, all of us knowing the chase wasn’t over yet.

This was what the Spiral Project unit would be like, if I ever had a shot at getting it off the ground again. I tried not to think about the fact that even if I did, I wouldn’t be one of the project’s storm chasers. I’d be stuck in front of a computer screen at King’s.

I shook my head, not letting that thought encroach on my enjoyment. And as we ate, talked, and laughed with the others, something rose inside me like a perfect, shiny balloon.

Happiness. I was happy sitting there with the people who shared my love of weather, all of us speaking the same language and eager to hunt the elusive storm.

I was happy sitting beside Archer, his warm thigh pressed to mine. He was at ease too, comfortable with these no-bullshit guys who pursued a risk with both dedication and hard work.

But when Henry asked if we wanted to join their caravan, I looked at Archer and shook my head.

“We’re going solo on this one,” I told Henry.

Archer smiled and winked at me. A lovely sense of
togetherness
passed between us, as if he and I had been a team from the beginning. When we hadn’t let the flip of a coin decide our fate.

I reached into my pocket for my phone. “Henry, take my cell number and we can keep in touch.”

We exchanged numbers before Archer and I headed out again. Yes, I was happy sitting with a noisy crowd of storm chasers, but I was even happier being alone with Archer. There was no one on earth I’d rather have been with right then, on the road chasing thunder and lightning.

I checked the radar again, studied the sky, and mapped out a route. Archer followed my directions. The rain had let up over the past couple of hours, but as we approached the convergence of activity, it started again. It was late afternoon now, and the descending sun was hidden behind a wall of dark clouds.

Adrenaline simmered inside me. If today were a bust, we’d have to start all over again tomorrow. And while that meant more time with Archer, I needed to be back in Mirror Lake by Tuesday. The longer it took, the less chance we’d see a tornado.

We diverged onto the backcountry roads again. A crack of lightning bolted through the sky, followed by the rumble of thunder. Archer peered through the windshield at the gray expanse of the horizon.

The sky darkened over the landscape. Clouds boiled up. The wind whipped over the stalks of wheat and crashed against the side of the van. I stared at the clouds.

“It’s a supercell,” I murmured, excitement flaring in my chest. “Look, there’s rotation at the cloud base.”

I adjusted my camera settings and snapped some pictures of the cloud formation. My heart pounded hard. I felt it, like a flame licking at my skin, the sense that something big was churning through the sky, past the clouds, a convergence of air and energy.

Then I saw it. The funnel cloud. It was nothing more than a slight downward extension of the cloud at first, and then it became more prominent. A cold, dry gust of wind rushed past us—the forward-flanking downdraft.

The funnel grew, visibly rotating, reaching toward the ground. Dirt, grass, and leaves stirred and began swirling northward ahead of the tornado. The vortex expanded.

I lifted my camera, exhilaration and fear firing through me.

“Archer!”

He slammed on the brakes, jerking the van to a halt. “What the—”

I couldn’t speak. I could hardly breathe. I slid the window down. The roar of the tornado was like a massive, grinding machine.

Archer grabbed my camcorder and trained it on the funnel cloud. I tried to steady my shaking hands as I pressed the shutter button and snapped a series of pictures.

“It’s an extreme right-mover!” I shouted over the noise. “Moving south of due east!”

He dumped the camcorder in my lap and took hold of the wheel. My body lurched against the seatbelt. Archer spun the van in a three-point turn and floored it. We shot after the tornado like a horse breaking free at the starting line. The tornado raced across the field, throwing around a mass of debris.

Archer drove right down the middle of the road, so fast the van hydroplaned. My heart felt like it was going to claw out of my chest.

“What are you doing?” I yelled.

“Film it!” he yelled back.

The order snapped into my brain. I forced myself to train the camcorder on the tornado and hit the video record button.

Wind slammed against the van, skidding us half off the road. Archer righted the wheel and kept going. The tornado moved toward us, roaring like a colossal beast.

“Archer, it’s coming in our direction!”

He gripped the wheel harder, his knuckles burning white. “Hold on.”

Oh, Jesus. He wasn’t going to stop. He was going to try and outrun it. Terror ripped through me. The tornado launched toward us, a massive, swirling, destructive force. Somehow, I managed to keep my camera focused and kept filming. Branches and leaves rained down, hitting the windshield. I put the side window halfway up, but kept the camcorder trained on the vortex.

I braced my feet on the floor, my blood alive with fear. The column of rotating wind drew closer. We’d be airborne in less than five seconds, sucked into the tornado and dropped God only knew where. Chewed up and spit out.

“Archer, stop! We need to get into the ditch!”

He didn’t stop. The van jerked and skidded against the force of the wind. Archer pushed the gas pedal, forcing the van to go faster. Faster. The van started to shake. The tires skidded. No way could we go faster than a tornado. I stared as the vortex approached, bearing down on us.

“Archer…”

“Holy fucking shit,” he muttered.

“Go!” I screamed. “Go!”

He leaned over the steering wheel, his jaw set. The windshield was a mass of swirling wind and debris. The van plowed forward.

We were no longer chasing a tornado but being chased by one. Not predator but prey. I gripped the door handle. Fear burned through me.

A crash of wind hit the side of the van again, pushing us into the shoulder. I heard Archer’s shout over the noise of the storm. He swerved, jerking the van back onto the road.

The tornado spun to the north just as our van flew past it. Archer kept driving at full speed, racing through the chaos. My pulse hammered so hard and fast I almost didn’t notice the decrease in noise.

I twisted in my seat and stared out the back window as the tornado moved over the road and rampaged through the field. I watched it go, shaking so hard my teeth rattled.

Archer hit the brakes and brought the van to a stop. A crash of thunder echoed across the sky. I leapt out of the van and stood watching the tornado until it disappeared from sight. A wide swath of crushed wheat and uprooted trees lay in its wake as far as the eye could see. Evidence of a fierce, violent force of nature no one could control.

Archer rounded the front of the van. His forehead was damp with sweat and rain, his body taut with the same frenzied tension that filled mine.

“Kelsey, are you—”

I spun to face him, my breathing harsh. Energy and heat crackled between us. With a sudden shriek of pure glee, I flung myself at him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his waist.

He grabbed me, pressing our bodies together, laughter shaking his chest. Fireworks burst into my blood, and then I was laughing too, the wind still whipping around us.

“You’re crazy!” I yelled, thumping my fists against his back. “Totally fucking crazy.”

“Damn right.” Still laughing, he swung me around in a circle. “Crazy about a storm girl.”

I tightened my hold on him, dizzy with relief and elation, wanting to relive that insanity all over again.

When Archer stopped, he grasped the back of my neck. His eyes blazed the instant before he brought my lips to his. It was a hard, hot kiss filled with the rush of danger and exhilaration.

A tornado spun through both of us, crashing and spinning. I drove my hands into Archer’s thick hair and opened my mouth over his, deepening the kiss until it felt like I was drowning in him. When I lifted my head, I ran my palm over the side of his face as he slid me down the length of his body. His heart beat against mine, powerful enough to feel through our clothes.

For a minute, I could only stare at him. A flash of lightning illuminated his face. His jaw was locked, his breathing still rapid. He’d loved the thrilling power of the chase as much as I had. The tight way he held me, the rigid power of his stance, and the bright, intense gleam in his eyes told me in no uncertain terms he could push me to my limits and protect me the entire time. That he
would.

Thunder cracked and resounded inside me. The reverberations echoed in my blood, breaking open a long-buried seed filled with my deepest desires. They flew upward—free, unfettered, limitless. Because of him.

Because of us.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

KELSEY

AFTER I TOOK SOME FOOTAGE OF
the tornado’s path, we got back into the van and drove on. Darkness fell. Another line of storms encroached on the night sky. We checked in to a roadside motel, bringing the equipment into the room along with our travel bags. Energy still zinged through my blood like thousands of electric sparks.

My hands shook as I sat at the table to check my cameras and identify what we’d captured. I looked at shot after shot of the vortex, the rotating column, and the mesocyclone from which the massive tornado had formed. The video was amazing, the tornado’s roar filling the audio and almost drowning out Archer’s and my shouting.

“I need to send this to Colton and Tess,” I said, hitting the rewind button. I glanced up at Archer, who was watching the footage over my shoulder.

“Can you believe we did that?” I asked.

“You and me? Sure I can.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head and went to unpack.

I replayed the video, hearing our excitement and crackling fear. I uploaded it as an email attachment, but stopped just before hitting the send button.

I wasn’t quite ready to let my graduate students see the video. Right now, with the rain still pouring and my heart still pounding, it was too intense to share with anyone else. Too private. Too
ours
.

I pushed away from the table and stood. “That was the most incredible thing I’ve ever experienced.”

Archer lifted an eyebrow. “
The
most incredible thing?”

“Well.” My breath caught at the look of heat in his eyes. “
Second
most incredible.”

I turned back to close my laptop just as Archer slid his arms around my waist from behind. Another bolt of lightning flashed through the window. Every part of me responded to the fire arcing through the sky and downward into us. His arms tightened around me with an edge of undeniable possession. His body was tense, almost pulsing with energy. The same energy that roared in my blood.

We were both so jacked up that urgency and heat fired between us immediately. His lips touched the back of my neck. A shiver ran clear down my spine. My nerves sizzled. Rain pounded on the window. Thunder rumbled.

Archer unfastened my jeans and pulled them down, then slipped his fingers between my thighs and rubbed me through my panties.

“Nice,” he murmured, his voice vibrating against my neck as he moved his finger beneath the elastic to touch my bare flesh. “You get so hot so fast.”

Lust uncoiled in my belly. I tried to turn and face him, wanting his mouth on mine, but he held me in place and continued his slow exploration. My legs weakened. His touch was teasing but possessive, as he trailed his finger up over my folds and into me.

I moaned, clenching around him. The sensation of his muscular body against my back and his breath on my skin sent me into a storm of sensations. He didn’t stop his easy but relentless stroking, and before I could stop it, the pressure began to build.

“Archer.”

“Come on, my little kitten,” he murmured, his lips moving against the back of my neck. “It’ll be the first of many tonight.”

Holy mother of—

I came with a choked cry, fast and hard, my thighs clamping around Archer’s hand. He worked his fingers against me until the shudders faded, then eased my jeans and panties off. In another five seconds, he had my shirt and bra off, and my naked ass pressed against his thighs.

He ran his hands all over me from behind, the scrape of his callused palms delicious against my skin, my whole body quivering. He moved his hands to my hips and guided me forward to the bed. I started to turn.

“No.” He put his hand on my lower back and pressed me down. “Say it.”

My breath stuck in my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut.

“I give up,” I whispered.

“Not that. Say it.”

“No.”

“Get on your hands and knees.”

“I…” The words refused to form.

He stroked his hand up and down my spine like he was soothing a restless cat. My heart pounded, blood rushed into my ears. I let him press me forward, fisting my hands in the bedspread, my knees sinking into the mattress. Cool air washed over me. I shivered.

I twisted again, trying to look at him over my shoulder. I heard the slap before I felt it, the strike of his broad palm against my ass.

“Archer!”

“Told you you were getting spanked.” His voice was heavy with lust and a trace of amusement. “I’m a man of my word, you know.”

“Well, I didn’t think you’d… ow!”

He spanked me again, the sting of pain radiating over my entire cheek.

“Archer, I swear—”

“Good girls don’t swear.”

“I’m not a good girl.”

“Yeah, you are. You just don’t want to be.” He stroked my ass again. “It’s what I love about you.”

Shock bolted through me. I froze, fully expecting him to freeze too when he realized what he’d just said.

He didn’t. He kept rubbing my rear end in little circles that created a pattern of warmth over my skin. Something trembled low inside me, like an earthquake starting far beneath the surface. I shoved it back down, forced it to die. I wasn’t going to take this places it was never meant to go. Not even inside my own head.

I was glad when he spanked me again. The sting distracted me, brought me back to the present. Away from the approaching earthquakes and storms. I tightened my fists on the bedspread.

“Spread your legs,” he said.

I did. Another clap of thunder shook the walls. My breath burned my chest. I heard the rasp of his zipper. I wanted to turn and look, to drink in the sight of his thick erection, the brilliant blaze of tattoos over his muscled shoulder, the smoky look in his dark eyes.

His discarded sweatshirt lay crumpled on the bed. I grabbed it and lowered my face into it. The shirt smelled like Archer—sweat, sawdust, wind, and rain.

I closed my eyes. The bed dipped as he climbed onto the mattress behind me. I was open, unhidden.

He slid a finger into me. My whole body tingled in response.

“You want my cock here?” he asked, his voice husky.

Jesus. His voice alone could make me come. I nodded. Heat washed over me from the inside out. My heart throbbed. And as much as I wanted it, wanted him, I flinched when the hard knob of his cock pressed against my entrance. In this position, so exposed, all I could do was take him. Nothing else.

He stilled. His breath sawed through the air above me. I pictured him behind me, all hot skin and hard muscles, one hand curled around his shaft, the other hand gripping my ass.

“Take it,” he murmured. “Then I’ll come on your pretty ass.”

Heat surged through me. I couldn’t believe how his raw talk could ratchet my urgency so high, so fast. I pressed my face harder into the sweatshirt and reached between my spread legs.

Archer’s hand clamped around my wrist. “No. Not yet.”

With a moan of frustration, I pulled my hand away and grasped the bedspread. He eased his cock into me. Impossibly big. A cry stuck in my throat. He stopped again, rubbing his hands over my lower back, then around my torso and up to my breasts. My breath shortened as he rolled my nipples between his fingers. Sparks shot to my core.

“Take me,” he said.

“Yes.”

He pressed his hand between my shoulder blades, urging my upper body down, which pushed my rear up higher. Anxiety twisted through me when he started pushing into me again. I felt myself stretching to accommodate him, felt the heavy pulsing of his shaft, the slow glide of every thick inch.

I squirmed, twisting beneath him. He gripped my hips to still me and pushed in farther. My legs trembled.

I couldn’t do it. Fear snaked through me. It wasn’t that I’d never done it like this before. I had, many times. But never with him. Never with a man who could break me apart and put me back together in the same breath. Never with a man who had lightning in his eyes, a man who made earthquakes tremble in my blood.

He stopped again, half embedded inside me, his hair-roughened thighs against mine. I pressed his crumpled sweatshirt to my face.

“You want more?” His voice was hoarse.

I bit my lip. Tasted blood.

“I want more,” I whispered.

“How?”

“Rough. I want more, and I want it rough.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Say it.”

“I surrender.”

I had just enough time to close my fingers on the bedspread again, to brace myself, before he surged into me with one hard thrust.

He groaned. “Oh, sweet fuck.”

The impact jarred me to the core, pushed me forward, closer to the edge of the endless abyss. He didn’t stop, not this time, only pulled back and plunged in again, his hands gripping my ass, his hips slamming against mine.

My body burned. I put one hand on the wall in front of me, tried to match his movements but couldn’t. All I could do was take him. Take his repeated hard thrusts, the dig of his fingers into my skin, the slap of his flesh against mine. He spanked me again, a sting that intensified the sensations swirling through me.

It lasted for hours. It lasted for minutes. I lost all track of time. I arched my body and fell into the storm only he could create. He clutched my waist, turned my sweat-slick body around. I spread my legs and hooked them around his hips, letting him surge into me again, raking my gaze over his damp chest. His tattoos shifted with every flex of his hard muscles, the pattern like a beautiful, living creature sliding across his skin.

He came over me, overcame me, his body hot and hard as he crushed his mouth to mine. I wound my arms around him, slid my hand over the glossy, shifting wing on his shoulder, dug my fingernails into his smooth back.

Tension unleashed inside me. I pushed upward to meet his heavy thrusts, needing him deeper, as deep as he could go. His teeth scraped my neck, my breasts. We rocked and collided and crashed, again and again.

I shattered what felt like a thousand times, shuddering and writhing beneath him, then on top of him when he rolled onto his back to let me ride him, then again with him plunging into me from behind. Still he demanded more, his voice a rough whisper pouring into my ear, lighting fires in my blood.

His rough hand scraped my back, fisted in my hair, and tugged. My body arched like a bow, tense and quivering. Endless moans broke from my throat with every surge of his cock into me. I ached all over by the time he spilled into me with a deep groan, his body collapsing on top of mine, his breath scorching my neck.

Gasping, I took the weight of him, absorbed the feeling of his sweaty, muscular chest heaving against my back. I took a few deep breaths and swallowed hard.

Archer rolled off me and onto his back. He flung his arm across his face. Rain splashed against the window. Lightning flashed.

I curled onto my side, still feeling as if he were throbbing inside me. My heart raced. He pressed his hand to my hair.

“Okay?” His voice was gravelly.

I nodded. Though I was spent, my veins hummed with energy, the last burst of exhilaration before the crash. The bed shifted as Archer moved, but aside from his hand on my hair, he didn’t touch me.

Again, I was grateful. I needed some space. It was strange how he sensed exactly what I needed or didn’t need. What I wanted or didn’t want.

The pressure of his hand increased slightly. I closed my eyes as the crash pulled me under and thunder broke the sky.

He was still sleeping when I woke. Wet dawn light seeped through the curtained windows, the rain having slowed to a drizzle. I got up slowly and went into the bathroom to brush my teeth.

I was sore everywhere, but oh god, did it feel good. It was the sweet, aching relief of knowing I could still withstand being pushed to the edge. That I still loved it. That I wanted more.

I took a shower, pulled on a clean shirt and panties, and left the bathroom. There was a microwave in a little nook by the wall, and I scrounged around in my bag for packets of instant coffee. I stuck two cardboard cups of water in the microwave. As I waited for them to heat, I saw Archer’s worn notebook sitting on the nightstand.