Just Trust Me…

20

WHEN PAOLO’S voice announced it was time to rise and shine, Brett peeked open one eye, deduced from the utter blackness inside the tent that it was still dark outside, groaned and rolled over.

And discovered he was alone.

Hoisting himself up on one elbow, he blinked both eyes open then felt for his flashlight, squinting when its bright glare flooded the tent. The spot beside him was empty. A sight, he realized, he didn’t like the look of at all. He shifted the beam of light to his watch and groaned. Three-thirty.

He sniffed the air, catching the enticing aroma of coffee. Since Paolo and Ana were both clearly awake, at least Kayla wasn’t alone.

He clicked off the flashlight then flopped onto his back and stacked his hands behind his head, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.

All of which revolved around Kayla.

Specifically around the erotic massage she’d treated him to last night.

Holy hell, it was a miracle the damn tent hadn’t gone up in flames. That book she’d read-Mastering the Art of the Erotic Massage-well, she’d mastered it, but good.

He closed his eyes and recalled in vivid detail the way she’d removed his clothes, then, using her unscented lotion, first massaged his back, legs and feet with long, gliding strokes, much as he’d massaged her the night before.

But then she’d turned him over and given the same meticulous attention to his chest, arms and hands as she’d lavished on his back, never touching his penis, building an agony of anticipation even as she’d massaged the rest of him into relaxation.

She’d finished by switching her entire focus to his straining erection.

“The basic principle of male genital massage is to build a repeated peaking process,” she’d said in a smoky voice. “For me to slow down, stop or change what I’m doing before you come. So let me know when you’re about to climax.”

And then the sweetest torture he’d ever endured had commenced. She’d cupped him, caressed and teased him, stimulating him over and over with a variety of tempos and strokes that drove him insane. Every time he’d growled out that he was about to explode, she’d switch to something new or sweep her hands up and down the rest of his body until the urgent need to ejaculate subsided. Then she’d begin another slow build.

By the sixth time, his vision had glazed over and he was practically delirious. When he’d grunted that he couldn’t take it anymore, she’d leisurely rolled a condom over his aching erection, and proceeded to drive him wild once again by engulfing him in her wet heat, riding him with a slow rolling motion that had robbed him of whatever wits she hadn’t already stolen. When he finally came, the intensity of his climax had practically blown his head from his shoulders.

After wringing him out like a dishrag, she’d pulled the covers over them, wrapping them in a cocoon of warmth and snuggled against him. It was the last thing he remembered until Paolo’s voice had awakened him.

And now that he was awake, he immediately wanted to see her. Touch her. Talk to her. Kiss her. Make love to her.

A huff of wry amusement puffed past his lips. Man, he really had it bad. Now he knew exactly what his dad meant when he’d described that first meeting with Mom. Bang. That was it.

Like father, like son.

Brett reached out and brushed his hand over the empty space where she’d slept, the place where she belonged, and disappointment filled him. Not only because he simply missed having there, but also because he’d planned to talk to her this morning about continuing their relationship once they arrived home.

For him it was a no-brainer, and he assumed she felt the same way, but he wanted to make sure she clearly understood that as far as he was concerned, this wasn’t simply an adrenaline-rush vacation fling. He figured he’d wait to drop the I-love-you bomb, but he planned to make his desire to continue seeing her clear.

Oh, well, plenty of time to discuss that. And glean some pertinent information from her-like her phone number and address.

Unable to wait any longer, he dressed quickly, then headed toward the kitchen tent. Kayla met him midway, greeting him with a smile and a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she said, handing him the steaming mug. “I was just heading back to the tent to bring you this.”

“Thank you. And good morning.” He brushed his lips over hers, nearly laughing at the heat that zoomed through him at the casual contact. “Any oversleeping on my part is completely your fault.”

She raised her brows. “Is that a complaint?”

“Hell, no.” He wrapped his free arm around her waist and pulled her against him. “My only complaint is that you weren’t there when I woke up. I missed you.”

“I…I couldn’t sleep, so when I caught the first whiff of coffee, I figured I’d get dressed and score us some java.”

He leaned back and searched her face, noting even in the dim light the smudges beneath her eyes. “Couldn’t sleep? You feel okay?”

She smiled. “I’m fine. My mind is just full. Lots of thoughts, all whirling around.”

“Well, sweetheart, you emptied my mind last night.” He nudged his pelvis against hers. “Among other things. If Paolo hadn’t shouted out the rise-and-shine call, I probably would have slept for a week. I intend to write the author of Mastering the Art of the Erotic Massage a heartfelt thank-you note.”

She laughed and nudged him back. “The pleasure was mine.”

“Not entirely, I can promise you that.”

“I think we’re both all paid up now. You owed me pleasure-twice-because you cheated and let me win our bet, and I owed you an erotic massage. We’re even.”

He shook his head. “I seem to recall a mention of make-up sex in there somewhere which hasn’t happened yet. So you still owe me one.”

“Not that I mind being indebted to you, but the only way we can have make-up sex is if we get into an argument.” She rose on her toes and gently bit his earlobe, rushing more blood straight to his groin. “And arguing isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

Unfortunately Paolo chose that moment to walk by and clap him on the back. “Glad to see you finally dragged it out of bed, señor. Breakfast in five minutes, then we need to pack up quickly if we’re to arrive at Machu Picchu with the sun.”

“Five minutes,” Brett said with a groan. “Not nearly enough time for what I had in mind.”

“Me, either.”

He dropped a quick kiss to her upturned lips. “Hold that thought. At least until we’ve checked into our hotel this afternoon.”

The rest of the campers slowly exited their tents, all anxious for coffee. While they enjoyed their breakfast, Paolo filled them in on some of Machu Picchu’s history.

“The legendary lost city of the Incas was rediscovered in 1911 by an American team of archaeologists from Yale University led by Hiram Bingham. Of course, like most men, Mr. Bingham didn’t ask for directions and was actually looking for Vilcabamba, a stronghold of the Inca rebels, when he discovered Machu Picchu, and was convinced he’d been successful.

“Since the Incas didn’t leave written records, Machu Picchu remains shrouded in mystery. Some believe it was a sanctuary inhabited by high priests, others feel it was used for astronomical studies. Other theories include agricultural site and citadel. Or perhaps it is a combination of all or some of those. Most mysterious of all is that in spite of the exceedingly fine construction and architecture, Machu Picchu was built, inhabited and abandoned all in the span of less than a century-a tiny blip in time considering the four-thousand-year history of Peru. Today scholars still ask why?”

Paolo sipped his coffee, then continued, “Some suggest it was the result of wars between rival Inca tribes resulting in the mass execution of the entire community. Or perhaps it was a plague. Given the site’s pristine condition, scholars agree that it is unlikely that the Spanish conquistadors ever found Machu Picchu during their invasions as they made no mention of it in their meticulous chronicles.”

After finishing their meal, the group packed up their belongings and set out on the final leg of their journey, which, they found thankfully, was shorter and not as strenuous as the previous days’ hikes. They followed a broad, level path which wound gently through light woodland, the air cool and still. With the first streaks of light in the sky, their walkway was dappled with color from scores of butterflies flitting across the trail.

They arrived at Intipunku, the Sun Gate, a short time later. After a final, thigh-murdering, fifty-step, nearly vertical climb that left them all gasping, suddenly the whole of Machu Picchu was spread before them, in all its enigmatic glory, captured in the glowing splendor of the golden rays of the sunrise.

Brett stared at the fantastic sight, at the incredible series of terraces and buildings nestled amongst the verdant landscape, and he felt as if he’d stepped back in time. He reached out and entwined his fingers with Kayla’s.

She gently squeezed his hand, then whispered, “It’s even more impressive than I’d envisioned. I’m almost expecting an ancient Inca warrior wearing full ceremonial dress to step from an archway.”

They spent the day exploring the ruins, from the Temple of the Sun with its extraordinary stonework which fitted together seamlessly, an incomprehensible achievement for a people who had neither a written language nor the wheel, to the Temple of the Moon, a place of mysterious caverns with a carved throne and altar.

Hours later, as the sun disappeared behind the snowcapped peaks in the distance, the group headed toward the guard post where they would exit. Everyone except Brett and Kayla, who were spending the night at the Sanctuary Lodge, were heading to the train station in nearby Aguas Calientes to travel back to Cusco. Once outside the gate, there was a hasty exchange of e-mail addresses along with promises to keep in touch and e-mail photos. Then hugs and handshakes all around as the people who had come to mean so much to Brett over such a short period of time departed and went on with their lives, filling him with sorrow that he wouldn’t be seeing them again tomorrow. Their adventure together was over.

But speaking of people who’d come to mean a lot to him in a short period of time…

His gaze settled on Kayla and when she looked at him, her bottom lip trembled.

“I’m going to miss them,” she said with a catch in her voice.

He drew her into his arms and she rested her forehead against his chest. “Me, too. But hey, I’m glad that at least I won’t have to miss you. Pretty great that we live in the same city.”

A strangled sound came from her. Burying her face against his neck, her shoulders shook and she sobbed as if her heart were breaking.

Not certain how to comfort her, he just held her, brushing his lips over her temple, murmuring reassurances that everything would be fine, that they’d keep in touch with everyone, and waited for the storm to pass.

When it seemed the worst was over, he pulled a hanky from his jeans’ pocket and handed it to her. “Don’t worry-it’s a clean one,” he said with a smile.

She looked up at him, her green eyes wet with tears, her lashes spiky, and whatever small part of his heart might have remained his own, he lost with that single look.

“I’m sorry,” she said, after giving her nose a lusty blow.

“No problem.” He chucked her gently under the chin and grinned. “But I’ve gotta tell ya, for a woman who claimed she wasn’t a weepy female, you sure do cry a lot. And it is not easy on a guy’s nerves.”

“Or his hankies,” she said with a wobbly smile.

“I have plenty.” He cradled her tearstained face between his hands and brushed at the wetness lingering on her cheeks with his thumbs. “Feel better?”

For several long seconds she simply looked at him with an unreadable expression and he wished like hell he knew what she was thinking.

Finally she jerked her head in a nod. “Better.” Then she grimaced. “But I know for sure I’m not looking better. I must be a total mess.”

“You look beautiful.”

A watery laugh huffed from her lips. “That’s very sweet, but I know what I look like when I cry. Blotchy skin, red nose, swollen eyes. It ain’t pretty.”

“You’re right. It’s beautiful.” He leaned down and lightly kissed her lips. “I can’t wait to get you alone in our hotel room so I can show you just how beautiful.”

Another huff of laughter. “I’m hideous. With the way I look, you cannot possibly be turned on.”

“Yet this,” he lightly bumped her with the obvious bulge in his jeans, “suggests I am.”

“Good heavens.” She swiped beneath her eyes with the hanky again. “Are you always this horny?”

His gaze rested on hers, all vestiges of amusement gone, and he shook his head. “No. Just with you. Only you.”

Her lips trembled and with no small amount of alarm he saw her eyes puddling up again. “Okay, that’s it for you, Miss Waterworks. I’m getting you to the hotel. Now. Before I have to dig another hanky out of my backpack.”

Thirty minutes later they walked down the hallway toward their room at the Machu Picchu Sanctuary Lodge, the hotel perched right next to the ruins. Kayla had had her own room reserved, but they’d cancelled the reservation when checking in as they only needed one. And by God, he couldn’t wait much longer to get to it. And judging by the way she rubbed herself against him while he tried to unlock the damn door, neither could she.

When he finally closed the door behind them, they dropped their backpacks and fell on each other as if they were starved and had suddenly been offered a feast.

“Hope your heart isn’t set on slow and easy.” He yanked her sweatshirt over her head with a lack of finesse that probably should have appalled him.

“Do I look like I want slow and easy?” she asked, jerking his T-shirt from his jeans with the same haste he’d exhibited. With her eyes, darkened with arousal, steady on his, she flicked open the button on his jeans then lowered the zipper. Wrapping her fingers around his straining erection, she said, “This morning you told me to ‘hold that thought’ and I’ve held it all day. Now I want to see what you intend to do about it. And I want to see it hard and fast. Any complaints?”

“Hell, no.” Nothing not to love about a woman who wasn’t afraid to ask for what she wanted. And even better when he wanted the same thing.

Amidst much kissing and panting and groping and laughing and digging through backpacks for condoms, they tugged off boots and jeans and underwear then tumbled onto the bed. Settling himself between her splayed thighs, he wasted no time giving her what she wanted, what they both wanted-hard and fast. After a wild, furious ride that left them spent, he lifted her arms above her head, entwined their fingers, and looked into her slumberous eyes. And saw everything he’d ever wanted.

“You do hard and fast very well,” she murmured.

“So do you. For my encore performance, how do you feel about sharing a nice, hot bath in our very own indoor bathroom?”

Her eyes widened. “The fact that you made me forget, for even one second, let alone long enough to make love, that such a luxury was within reach is a true testament to your appeal and skill.”

He waggled his brows. “Wait ’til you see what I can do in a tubful of soapy water.”

Ten minutes later, he reclined in the tub with Kayla nestled between his spread legs, her back pressed to his chest, her temple against his chin. Her hands rested on his thighs while his fingers gently glided over her abdomen. Wisps of fragrant steam curled up from the water, filling the room with the fragrance of the hotel’s orchid-scented bubble bath.

“I’m going to smell like flowers,” he said, smoothing his hands over her breasts.

“Is that a problem?”

“I can stand it if you can. But it’s not the most…masculine of scents.”

She exhaled a long sigh filled with unmistakable pleasure. “Believe me, you don’t have anything to worry about in the masculinity department.”

“Glad you’re pleased.” He brushed a kiss over her temple, inhaling her unique scent. Which reminded him…

“You know, I’ve never told you about my breakthrough. Would you like to hear about it?”

He felt her stiffen in his arms. “No.” The sharp word echoed in the room, then she laughed. “I mean, it’s not necessary-”

He touched his finger to her lips, cutting off her words. “I know, you think it’ll be a yawn-fest of chemistry mumbo-jumbo, but once you hear what this formula can do, I guarantee you won’t be bored.”

Holding her in his arms, he told her everything the formula could do. The anti-aging benefits. The aphrodisiac qualities. That there was nothing on the market like it. The research he’d conducted and a simplified version of the chemical process used to produce the formula’s extraordinary effects. Which led to him telling her about how the cosmetics companies had hounded him to the point where, encouraged by the magazine article, he’d escaped to Peru. To get away. To decide what was best for his future, because the formula was his future.

When he finished, he realized she hadn’t said a word through his entire recitation, or even moved.

“Hey,” he said with a quiet laugh, craning his neck to kiss her cheek. “Did I bore you to sleep?”

She shook her head. “No,” she replied, her voice a hoarse whisper. “I…I heard every word you said. It sounds like an incredible product.”

“It is. Which is why I need to make the right decisions, and make them soon. Before all the buzz and interest wanes. Because, providing I choose wisely and trust the right people, my future will be financially set.”

“Yes. It…it’s always important to trust the right people.”

“And after everything’s fallen into place, the first order of business is sending my parents on a much-deserved vacation.” He laughed. “Maybe I’ll send them to Machu Picchu.”

Instead of laughing with him, she sat up and turned around to face him. There was something in her eyes, something bleak, but before he could question her, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Like she meant it. With an urgency that felt like desperation. Which was fine by him.

By the time she let him come up for air, his head was spinning.

“Make love to me, Brett,” she whispered, peppering his jaw with fevered kisses. “Now. Please.”

He was only too happy to comply. Then, and twice more throughout the evening before they finally fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

When he awoke the next morning, he reached out for her. But instead of finding her warm body, he found only an empty space. Eyes still closed, a smile quirked his lips. Probably the princess was enjoying the indoor plumbing.

After a few minutes passed without any sound coming from the bathroom, he called out “Kayla?”

Only more silence greeted him.

Pushing up onto his elbow, he blinked against the early-morning sunshine slanting through the windows. He was about to call her name again when his gaze fell on the pillow where she’d slept next to him.

And stared at an envelope bearing his name.

He stilled, then his gaze shifted around the room.

All traces of her were gone.

Her backpack, her clothes that had lain scattered across the floor. The lotion she’d set on the nightstand.

His gaze jerked back to the envelope, and a sick feeling gripped him, his every instinct screaming that he wasn’t going to like what he read. As if in a trance, he reached for the envelope. Unfolded the letter. Read her words.

When Brett finished, his hand fisted, crumpling the paper, which he then heaved across the room. After the wadded paper hit the wall, it fell to the floor.

Where it joined his shattered heart.