I roused Wreck from his nap, then breathed in deep, filling my lungs to bursting with warm mountain air. Never in my life did I ever think I’d be in a different country on my way to seeing one of the wonders of the world. I had stopped daring to dream when Patrick killed me and now I was both legally alive and physically free for the first time in far too long.
Wreck tried to roll over and steal a few more minutes of shut eye but slid off the bench by accident and grunted when he hit the dirt.
“Ok. I’m officially awake now.” He stood up, stretched, brushed his hand through his beard then stretched again. “We’re almost done right?”
“Halfway,” I signed, smirking sheepishly.
“How ‘bout we leave all this crap here...” Wreck pulled me against him so that we were both looking out over the view, then whispered in my ears. As he spoke he moved my hips so that we were both dance-swaying back and forth. “You ride me up here, then I carry you back down the mountain and we ride the train into Aguas Caliente together. Get some food, drinks and make some bad decisions.”
I turned to face him, my smirk turning devilish at his suggestion. I walked my hand down his side then slid it into his pants over the thin layer of his boxers.
“I do owe you for all your help with my pack…” I mouthed the words in between kisses along his neck and collarbone. He tasted of fresh, drying sweat, earth and...leather. That last scent must be in his pores because he didn't bring his vest with him for this trip. I guess you can take the boy out of the MC, but you can’t take the MC out of the boy.
“You’re goddamn right you do,” Wreck teased, as he started sliding his hands down my lower back and over my ass. “You can start by -”
The cacophony of english whines echoed through the valley just below us as an overweight family of five laboriously meandered up toward the shaded hut we were resting at. I pulled my mouth to the side with disappointment then dropped my forehead into Wreck’s chest.
“Fuck em’.” Wreck pulled me tighter when I moved to seperate. “We can just be animals in the wild, baby.With this beard I could be confused with a llama.”
I flared my eyes at him, my smirk of deepening. I feigned giving it some thought then shook my head. Wreck still wouldn’t let me go when I pulled away again and my eyes flashed at him a second time.
That mischievous punk!
The closer the family drew the more obnoxious their bitching and moaning became and Wreck, despite his bluster, relented and let go so we could move out. I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to be more unprepared for this climb than me, but I was quickly proven wrong.
The next few hours were an exhausting uphill battle, but we were rewarded along the way with picturesque waterfalls, canopied trees, mostly safe-looking wooden bridges, gorgeous flowers, and enormous ancient ruins that left me with a sense of wonder and bewilderment. How the hell did people do all this with simple tools? One site we stopped at had terraces dug into the cliff face for agriculture and stone housing that was so interesting I had to sketch it from both the bottom terrace and eventually – after we made the grueling climb – the top.
Closing my sketchpad for the tenth time today I looked up and caught Wreck admiring my work, his eyes full of love his beard and mouth full of one of the sandwiches we packed for the hike. He never once complained when I pulled out my sketch pad or tried to hurry me along.
“You’re not bored yet, are you?” I signed.
“I could watch you draw all day,” he said in between big bites. It was as heartfelt a sentiment as it was goofy to watch a grown man try to be supportive and encouraging of my passions while working the peanut butter from the roof of his mouth with his tongue.
How did I ever get so lucky to find a man like Wreck?
“Well that’s good because you have been!” I signed with a smile, despite still feeling a little bad at how long the hike had become with me stopping so often. Tour groups and hikers had been passing us in waves since we first started this morning and at this rate we’d probably have to hustle if we were going to make it to Machu Picchu before dark. The busses back down the mountain and into town stopped at a certain time and if we missed them we’d have to walk all through the night to get to our hostel.
“So on a scale from one to ten are you excited or terrified to get back home?” Wreck shrugged on my pack over his chest then hauled up his backpack worn the traditional way.
“Eleven,” I replied chuckling at the intentionally silly way he phrased the question. I knew what he was referring to though so I wasn’t caught off guard by it.
Since we arrived in Devil Kings HQ in Rosewood almost a year ago our lives had been more about damage control than anything else, what with me coming back from the dead legally and court cases from everything that happened in Baltimore. This vacation was our way of marking the end of
