Lynn Michaels

by The Dreaming Pool

  It felt so good to be near him, to feel the warm aura of his body engulfing her. She could feel his eyes on her breasts, and felt more aware of her desire for him than she’d ever felt before.

  “Please,” she whispered, “please just hold me for a minute. I feel so cold.”

  “I don’t think I can, not just for a minute,” Gage told her honestly, “but I’ll try.”

  “Please,” she repeated with a sigh, as she moved closer to him.

  Threading the fingers of his left hand through her hair, he slid his right arm around her shoulders, pulling her up against him. Eslin slipped her arms around his waist and laid her cheek against him. He groaned as she pressed herself to him and her breasts spread warm and soft against his chest.

  His fingers tightened in her hair as he bowed his head over hers, and inhaled the warm, flowery traces of cologne clinging to her skin, and she raised her right hand from his waist and laid her palm against him. She curled her fingers, lightly stroked her nails through the hair on his chest, and he groaned at the slow, barely-there touch that shivered up the back of his neck.

  “Please,” she whispered again, the strap of her gown sliding down her left arm and exposing a good half of her breast as she tilted her head back. “Please stay with me tonight. I’m so scared.”

  “So am I,” he told her gently.

  “Help me,” she murmured, curling her fingers against his chest as she eased herself closer.

  He did, bending his head to kiss the curve of her neck as her arms went around him again. She moaned a little as he caught the strap of her gown and tugged it down to free her breast. He cupped his hand around her, pulled her tight against him, and felt her tremble as his lips slid up the side of her neck to close gently on her earlobe. She made a soft noise as his thumb touched her erect nipple and he tipped her head back against his left hand to cover her mouth with his.

  Her lips parted with anticipation, then his mouth touched hers and the apprehension she’d felt dissolved. Nothing that felt this warm and wonderful could be wrong, she thought dizzily, as his tongue touched hers. Whimpering a little, Eslin raised her right hand from his waist to her shoulder, loosed the strap of her gown, and let it fall to the floor.

  Gage felt something brush past his knees. Realizing a second later what it was, he broke their kiss long enough to slip his right arm under her knees, and scoop Eslin against his chest. He found her mouth again as he carried her to the bed, raised one knee on the side of the mattress, and put her down in the middle of the wrinkled sheets. He leaned away from her on his hands, gazed down at her, and Eslin’s heart quailed in her throat as he looked at her body. Suddenly feeling shy, she closed her eyes and drew up her right knee as she covered her breasts with her folded arms.

  Sliding down beside her, Gage tucked his left arm behind her head, cupped his right hand around her breast, and kissed a path down her throat, across her collarbone to her nipple. She moaned as he sucked her breast into his mouth and his palm smoothed down her flat, quivering stomach.

  Tears squeezed past Eslin’s lashes as she curved her right hand around the back of Gage’s head and leaned her cheek against his hair. He felt so warm, his caresses so tender, her body so relaxed and pliable against his.

  “Oh, Gage,” she murmured, tears coming to her eyes as she said his name.

  Lightly he kissed her breast, then looked up at her as he raised his hand and smoothed her hair away from her forehead. He smiled, not so much with his mouth as with his eyes.

  “Why are you crying?” His fingertips stroked her temple, her hairline, then brushed her cheek.

  “I—I don’t know,” she said with a breathy little laugh. “I just—you just—feel so good.”

  “Oh, Eslin, honey.” He chuckled softly as he kissed her. “We’re a long way from good.”

  His lips vibrated against hers, shivers ran everywhere as she opened her mouth wider beneath his and placed her hands behind his head. She pulled him closer, unconsciously arching her body to do so, and tentatively touched the tip of her tongue to his. He groaned, slid his right arm beneath her, and rolled her hard against him. Breaking their kiss, he buried his face in her hair and curved his right hand down the length of her body.

  She trembled beneath his palm, her skin satiny and warm and oh, so smooth. Her hair felt like silk against his lips, soft and rich with the scent of her cologne. Traces of it clung to her throat and he tasted it, sharp and salty, as he lowered his head and grazed her collarbone with his tongue. She shivered and he felt her lips move in his hair as she murmured his name.

  As his mouth moved lower, seeking her breast again, her right leg lifted slightly and brushed his thigh. Cupping his hand around her knee, he raised it higher and eased himself against her. He felt rather than heard her gasp, and raised his head from her breast as she shuddered.

  She stared up at him, her eyes large and luminous in the semi-dark. Her fingers shook, slipping down the back of his neck, her nails biting into the flesh of his shoulders. It hurt, but not nearly as much as the panic in her eyes.

  “You aren’t—” he started to ask, but couldn’t finish the question.

  “Not technically,” she whispered shakily.

  “How many times have you—”

  “Twice,” she said, and flushed.

  Gage couldn’t see it, but he felt the heat in her cheek as he curved his hand around her face.

  “I’ll do everything I can not to hurt you,” he said softly.

  “I know,” she murmured, raising her eyes to his face.

  “Trust me?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  Smiling, he turned his head toward her on the pillow as he lay on his back, raised his hips off the bed, and shed his pajama bottoms. He tossed them aside, wanted to reach for Eslin but didn’t. Instead, he rolled toward her and held his right arm open to her.

  She hesitated a moment, her heartbeat pulsing in the hollow of her throat, then slid against him, her head lowered, her right hand trembling as she laid it on his chest. He kissed her deeply and languidly on her mouth, her eyelids, her ears, and her throat while his right hand roamed slowly over her body, smoothing away her still-lingering doubts, until her breathing was no longer shallow and sharp but deep and pleasured.

  She stiffened only once, fleetingly, when he slid his fingers between her legs, but relaxed again as he whispered why in her ear. Murmuring his name, that she loved him and wanted him, Eslin rolled onto her back and drew Gage on top of her. Still kissing her, he spread her knees gently with his, braced his weight on his forearms, and pressed his body against hers. She didn’t shy away from him again as he thought she would, but sighed and arched her back beneath him as she said his name and opened her legs wider, drawing him inside her.

  Gage had held himself in check for her resistance, but the warmth, oh, dear God, the soft warmth of her and the eager thrust of her hips beneath his caught him totally off guard. He tried to draw back from her, to ease their joining, but she wouldn’t let him. She hooked her legs around his knees, pushed against him, and caught her breath as his body melded with hers.

  “Oh, Eslin,” he moaned, grabbing fistfuls of her hair before he pressed his mouth against hers.

  Her arms slipped around his neck, her legs enfolded him within the soft warmth of her body. Her lips were eager, his trembled; her nails clawed hungrily at his skin, his fingers spread slowly and stroked her hair. Her hips writhed ecstatically, his moved against hers, instinctively matching the rhythm she dictated. Her skin burned against his, her nipples hard, almost abrasive, stiffening his and tightening the muscles across his chest and his shoulder blades.

  Their kiss broke when he did, when he could no longer bear the pressure building inside him, the friction of her supple body stroking his. It exploded in a floodtide of sensations, shuddering the muscles in his lower back and legs, surging through him and arching his spine. He felt Eslin whimper, but just her fingers tightened on his shoulders. Murmuring her name, he eased
himself over her again, his lips touching her ear. He whispered that he loved her, oh, God, how he loved her, how incredibly wonderful she felt. She didn’t answer, and when her fingers slipped from his shoulders, he held himself up on one elbow and looked at her.

  She was asleep, her eyelashes fluttering just a little, her lips parted. A blissful smile curved her mouth and his neck chain winked at him from between her breasts.

  Chapter 25

  When Gage woke and reached for Eslin, he was startled not to find her beside him. A moment or so later when he heard the click behind him, he sat up quickly and looked toward the door.

  Wearing the pink slacks she’d worn in Monterrey, and a pink-and-blue checked blouse, Eslin sidled into the room with a tray bearing two stainless carafes of coffee and cups and saucers. Wobbling a little as she kicked the door shut behind her, she shot Gage a plucky smile as he threw back the sheet and started up to help her.

  “No, stay put,” she told him, “that’s the whole idea.”

  Smiling, he did as she asked, shoving a pillow behind himself as he sat up and raised his hands to take the tray from her. He put it down on his lap, hissed between his teeth, and picked it up again.

  “Quick, it’s hot.” He nodded at the pillow beside him, still molded into the shape of her head.

  “Oops.” Eslin flushed just a little as she knelt on the bed and stretched her arm across his knees to retrieve the pillow and place it on his lap.

  “This is terrific.” Gage set the tray down again. “The last time I had breakfast in bed I was eight and had the chicken pox.”

  “I didn’t know if you drank coffee or tea, so I got both. I prefer tea, but I’ll take the coffee if you—”

  “Coffee’s fine, thanks.”

  “There’s danish under this napkin.” She lifted a white damask square covering a plate and cocked a dubious eyebrow at him. “At least the waiter called it danish, I’m not so sure I would. And toast under this one.” She plucked up another napkin, her fingers just a little unsteady. “And jelly—grape and strawberry, I didn’t know which you like—and cream and sugar. …”

  Leaning back against his pillow, Gage smiled and watched the telltale flush pinken her face. If I told her I liked gooseberry she’d probably go back for it, he thought, catching her left hand in his as she reached out to pick up the coffee carafe.

  “Eslin, everything’s fine, don’t fuss.” He rubbed his thumb across her palm and her flush deepened. “You didn’t have to do this, but thank you.”

  “I know.” She smiled a little as she laid her thumb over his. “But I wanted to. I come from a long line of fussers.”

  “Wish I had my watch,” he said, letting go of her hand to pour himself some coffee. “I’d like to know what time it is.”

  “Seven minutes after six.”

  Coffee sloshed over the tray as Gage glanced up at her.

  “Give or take thirty seconds.” She smiled sheepishly. “I’ve always been able to tell time without a clock.”

  He realized then that he’d never seen her wear a watch.

  “Well,” he said, showing the dimple at the corner of his mouth, “you’re a lot cuter than a Timex.”

  Eslin laughed. Through the steam rising from his cup as he drank, Gage’s gray eyes smiled at her too.

  “You got up this early just to bring me breakfast?” His smile softened as he set his cup down on the tray.

  Not one of his lovers had ever done this for him. Of course, he hadn’t done it for any of them either; and it dawned on him as Eslin smiled at him, her eyes shining, that this was the first time in he couldn’t remember how long that he’d wakened with the woman he’d gone to bed with.

  “Well, yes and no. I did want to bring you breakfast and tell you”—she paused and drew a deep, excited breath—”that we have to go south.”

  Gage thought it was a damn good thing he’d put his cup down. He sat staring at her, then in one swift movement lifted the tray to the foot of the bed, rose on his knees, and swept her into his arms. She clung to him, laughing giddily. He buried his face in her hair and tried not to cry.

  “This is the second time in less than twenty-four hours,” he said shakily, as he held her at arm’s length, “that you’ve made me the happiest man in the world.”

  Tears sprang to Eslin’s eyes as he raised his hands and cupped them around her face. Wrapping her fingers around his wrists, she closed her eyes, turned her chin and kissed his right palm.

  “Oh, Eslin.” His hands trembled as he smoothed them down her neck, closed his fingers around her shoulders, and drew her against him again. His arms shook, too, as they enfolded her, and she could feel his heart beating rapidly behind his breastbone as he pressed her ear to his chest. “Eslin, Eslin”—he sighed her name and stroked her hair. “Tell me again what your name means.”

  “It means dreamer,” she murmured, her lips moving against his very warm skin.

  Cupping the back of her head in his left palm, Gage tilted her chin up with his right. Her eyes glistened a deep, dark blue.

  “Is that why you prefer to sleep on things?”

  “Ummm-hmmm.” She sighed languidly.

  They were treading on dangerous ground here, both physically, his body warned him, and psychically.

  “Don’t misunderstand what I’m about to ask you,” Gage said gently, his fingertips tracing the line of her jaw, “but are you sure we have to go south? I mean, how do you know?”

  He wasn’t Gage the cynic, he was Gage, Ethan’s brother, whose gray eyes looked full of worry. Eslin turned her head again to brush her lips across his fingertips, then leaned away from him and sat up straight on the side of the bed.

  “I can’t really explain it,” she told him slowly, her voice thoughtful as her eyes drifted toward the, window, “and I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything this strongly before, but it’s like”— she paused, the fingers of her right hand moving to her breast— “like somebody’s sewn a string to me, right here, and all I have to do…”

  Her eyes widened in surprise as she fumbled with the top two buttons of her blouse. Her fingers closed around the neck chain tucked inside her lace brassiere in the cleft between her breasts. The bent, gold-plated nail winked at Gage and he swallowed hard, his heart pounding.

  “… and all I have to do,” she repeated, her voice breathy and trembling, “is follow it.”

  Reluctantly, Gage raised his eyes from her breasts and grinned.

  “And button your blouse or we’ll never get out of this bed.”

  “Oh, you brilliant man!” she started to her feet, squeezed his cheeks between her hands, and nearly pulled him off his knees and the bed as she kissed him so hard his teeth bit into his upper lip. “Oh, Gage!”

  Her arms flew around his neck, her warm, soft breasts pressing against him. Groaning, he reached out for her, but she whirled away from him and dashed toward her suitcase thrown open on top of the low blond dresser.

  “Hurry and get dressed,” she said urgently, as she stuffed her nightgown inside, slapped the lid down, and yanked the zipper. “I’ll shake Ramón out and we’ll meet you at the car.”

  Once she’d wakened Ramón and told him to get a move on, Eslin lugged her suitcase to the lobby and set it down there in order to catch her breath. As she picked it up again and turned toward the door, a flash of color caught her eye. Looking over her shoulder at a display of tourist brochures arranged in a rack on the desk, she felt the brightly colored pictures of pyramids and Spanish cathedrals tug at her mind. She put her suitcase down, collected one copy of each brochure, then picked up her case again and headed for the car.

  Fifteen minutes after she’d flown out of his arms, Gage met Eslin beside the VW. Still tucking his T-shirt into his jeans, Ramón followed. Drowsy and yawning, the boy helped him load the luggage into the trunk, then crawled into the backseat.

  “Okay, navigator.” Gage got in behind the wheel and started the engine, as Eslin slid into the bucket seat beside him, an
d unfolded the map on her lap. “Which highway?”

  “Any old one.” She waved her hand over the squiggly blue and red lines. “Just as long as it goes south.”

  “Try the Pan American,” Ramón said sleepily. “One Ninety.”

  As early as it was, not quite seven, the Paseo de la Reforma was a solid wall of cars and buses whizzing past the side street at better than forty miles an hour. Gage laid on the horn at the corner, downshifted, and wheeled the Bug into the outside lane. Brakes squealed, Spanish curses flew, and Eslin cringed in her seat. She stayed that way, huddled with her right hand over her eyes until the traffic noises fell behind the VW and she felt safe enough to raise her head.

  They were rolling along a wide expanse of highway with chain link fencing on both sides and along the median strip. The sky was gray and heavy, and most of the traffic was coming at them in the opposite lanes heading toward the City. Sighing with relief, Eslin relaxed in her seat.

  “Good old One Ninety coming up,” Gage announced, glancing sideways at her as the Bug whizzed beneath an overhead sign pointing toward the entrance to the Pan American Highway. “Which …”

  The word way died on his lips. Eslin was sound asleep, her legs curled beneath her in the seat, her right arm bent on the door, her chin resting against the inside of her elbow. Bright, colorful tourist brochures were scattered over her lap. Gage remembered, from that very first day at Roundtree, that there was no point in trying to wake her up. Sighing, he turned onto the entrance ramp and pointed the VW south.

  About an hour or so later Eslin awakened as suddenly as she’d fallen asleep. She glanced down and started pawing through the brochures spread across her lap. One had slipped off, and Gage plucked it out from between the seat and the gearshift.

  “This what you want?”

  Smiling, she snatched it out of his hand and stared at it while she pulled the neck chain out of her blouse.

  “Oaxaca,” she affirmed, shooting him a triumphant grin.