Into the Light (The Light #1)(107)
As I teetered once again on the edge, my breath stuttered and my legs tightened.
He didn’t stop. He knew my body better than I did. He knew the signs that I was close. Nipping my breast, he commanded, “Come on, Sara, come for me.”
Fireworks, volcanoes, and stars falling from the sky paled in comparison to the explosion.
I cried out as every cell inside me discharged, leaving me shattered, held together only by his arms. Holding tight, I clung to his neck as wave after wave rippled through me, instigating uncontrollable spasms. Another thrust and I opened my eyes in time to watch his handsome face go from strain to utter bliss. Seconds later Jacob’s eyes met mine and I smiled.
Seeing him like this let me know just how much influence I had over my husband. He was in charge of our lives, but I held power too. With a sly grin, I admitted, “I may not be able to stand.”
His smile grew. “I’ve got you.”
Exhaling, I said, “I think you’ll have to let me go. I’m not exactly ready for work.”
“Oh, don’t worry.” He kissed my forehead. “I’ll help you with that too.”
My kisses trailed from his shoulder to his chest as he lowered my feet to the floor. “How did I get such a helpful husband?”
“Lucky, I guess,” Jacob said with a smirk as he reached for my shampoo.
I felt my cheeks rise, loving his expression and the tone of his voice. I didn’t know—and couldn’t ask—about things on the Assembly or with his flying, but I knew that lately he’d seemed stressed. It wasn’t anything he’d said, more what he hadn’t. The only thing he’d shared was that Xavier, the pilot who came to the Northern Light, had been ill and until there was a replacement, there was more work for him and Brother Micah.
Though I wanted to help, without being disobedient and questioning all I could do was help him relax. Running was one way, but I witnessed his expression of pure bliss only after we’d come together as one. Even if I hadn’t loved every second of making love to my husband—and I did—I’d willingly have given myself to see that.
As he massaged shampoo into my hair, the scent of flowers replaced the musk, and the warm water continued to rain.
“Do you think I could ever go away with you? So we wouldn’t need to be apart,” I asked.
Behind me Jacob tensed. I spun around, putting my small hands on his chest. “I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have said that.”
One side of his lips turned upward. “Don’t be sorry for wanting to be with me. I love having you with me.”
I exhaled and turned back around. “I know I have my job, and it couldn’t be done without permission, but if I could, I’d love that too.”
“No matter where we are, I love you.” He kissed my neck.
As I craned my neck toward his lips, my heart was full. We kissed. “I love you too.”
CHAPTER 32
Jacob
The small airstrip nestled in an unassuming valley of the Rocky Mountains was near Whitefish, Montana, as the crow flies. To drive from Whitefish to the Western Light required off-road vehicles. Accessing the Western Light’s campus by land was almost as difficult as driving to the Northern Light, in Alaska. That was Father Gabriel’s plan—keep them remote.
Passing the challenges Father Gabriel and the Commission had put before me, I’d finally earned the right to learn the specifics regarding the unique calling and activities of the Western Light. Not its fellowship or religious activities; those mirrored ours, as did the Eastern Light’s. To the unsuspecting tourist or resident of the nearby ski towns, the Western Light was nothing more than a group of religious zealots who kept to themselves. Those people had no idea of the billion-dollar operation happening in their midst.
The Light’s tax-exempt status, as well as the freedoms afforded by separation of church and state, kept all of The Light’s campuses a mystery to outsiders. Father Gabriel might have stated in the beginning that God had given him visions of The Light’s current greatness; however, even as an Assemblyman, I wondered if he had ever fathomed its current magnitude.
The Northern Light was the brightest, the most profitable. However, this campus, the Western Light, was doing better than many Fortune 500 companies, a fact most would disbelieve based solely on its outward appearance. The Western Light’s deceptive facade was even more important than ours. Though driving to the Western Light was difficult, flyovers were much more common in Montana than Alaska.
While our community concentrated on the production of product, the Western Light had a twofold goal. Primarily it packaged and distributed the pharmaceuticals. Its second goal was production of Preserve the Light preserves. Most of the females of the Western Light worked around the clock—literally, in shifts—producing and canning preserves. The jams and jellies were made from local berries, grown in the community. The Western Light followers who weren’t part of the chosen worked tirelessly in the gardens, the greenhouses, and the preserve plant, producing and canning. If they weren’t working there, they were in the packaging plant, preparing the pharmaceuticals for distribution.
Production of the preserves never stopped. To the outside world it was the acceptable source of income for The Light. To those who were chosen to understand, Preserve the Light was the cover for the illegal distribution of pharmaceuticals created at the Northern Light.