Page 17 of Paradise Found
Without constraint and free of doubt, he gave all of himself.
They clung to each other as their breathing eased and their bodies stopped shuddering from the aftershocks of their joined ecstasy. He held her quietly, while Axel’s mind worked overtime.
They would talk. They would make love. And some time in the next two weeks, he would be satisfied with whatever long-distance arrangement she’d agree to. They needed to figure out how to accommodate both their lives. Respecting her life here and her obligation to family was paramount. What right did he have to expect anything more? Who the hell has a conversation about a relationship mere days after meeting?
We do.Oleanna and Axel had become “we” so quickly and completely, the hockey player could barely fathom how he survived without her all this time.
Something in him stirred at the image of carrying her into his home in Minneapolis. It made him smile and then it made him ache. His need to be with Oleanna was clear to him, but it was important not to rush her. He would not mess up by sounding desperate and demanding.
Being bossy in bed was one thing; being inconsiderate about her life was unacceptable. Axel was resolved. Whatever it took, whateversheneeded, he would find a way.
Oleanna was so much more than a vacation fling. She represented fate. Everything he didn’t realize he needed was right in front of him. Oleanna was no vacation fling because she was everything.
The pictures were an indulgence. They were on the hammock, snacking and snuggling, when the sun began its glorious descent into the Pacific’s shimmering horizon.
His first picture took her by surprise. But when he urged further, Oleanna played along by seductively looking over her shoulder.
She had slipped back into her summer dress. As much as he wanted to take it all off, he opted to move the spaghetti straps down so he could take a picture of her with no fabric on her shoulders. So he could see that tan line he loved so much.
Oleanna’s face catching the last rays of a Hawaiian sunset would be an ongoing screen saver in his brain. But since he couldn’t get enough of her, he also made it the screen saver on his phone. Every minute he wasn’t with her, he would think about her like that. So beautiful, so responsive, sohis.
Late at night, snippets of his intention slipped as they lay tangled in bed.
“I wish I could take you to Sweden. You’d love it in the summer,” he muttered into her skin.
They cuddled, his body pressed against her back and his arms wrapped tight.
“Now that I found you, I can’t imagine letting you go,” he whispered, groggy and content.
He should have felt embarrassed by his confession. The last thing he wanted to do was pressure her. Although she didn’t answer, she didn’t pull away either. She snuggled deeper into his arms.
Nothing mattered except Oleanna’s skin against his, her hair spread on the bed, her sweet aroma filling his senses.
Such were his final musings before falling into a deep slumber.
The next day, Axel woke up and her side of the bed was cold. Immediately, even before he consciously acknowledged his dread, he felt something was wrong.
She was gone. He tried to calm his dire thoughts because maybe she had to work. It wasn’t like she was on vacation like he was.
After freshening up in the bathroom, Axel pulled out his phone to see if she left a message. Suddenly, he realized he didn’t have her number.
That made him guffaw, because how ridiculous was it that the woman of his dreams, the one person he wanted to reach now and always, wasn’t even in his contact list.
He grabbed the landline and dialed one.
“Aloha, Axel.”
“Oh, hey, Greg! Yeah, aloha. Um, is Oleanna there?”
There was a pause before the answer came. “Oleanna left this morning. I just drove her to the airport.”
There must be something wrong with the landline. It was about fifty years old, after all. “Can you say that again? I don’t think I heard you right.”
“Airport. She caught her flight to—” The line died.
“Hello? Greg?!”
Axel called again, punching one a bit too hard this time. A woman answered.
