Gateway to Heaven

by BETH KERY

  He gave himself to her in that moment. All of himself.

  Afterwards, their gazes clung as he lazily nuzzled her lips with his own. “Christian, I think I’ve fallen in love with you,” she said softly.

  He gave a small smile. “Ah, honey. What did you think this has been about since the beginning?”

  * * * * *

  Christian eyed the cleft between Megan’s breasts appreciatively as he carelessly forked a mouthful of pasta into his mouth.

  “You fill out my shirt much nicer than I ever did,” he said before his eyes popped up to Megan’s in pleasant surprise. “Hey, this is good!” He ate two more huge forkfuls in rapid succession.

  Megan smiled in contentment. She could see that night was lazily approaching through the opened doors that lead to Christian’s terrace. The skyline was luminescent against the dark blue sky. The last rays of the red sunset shone brilliantly into the mirrored facades of several of the high-rises. Christian and she had spent the whole afternoon and evening in bed, familiarizing themselves with each other, subsisting solely on the passion that only seemed to grow between them, even when they spent it repeatedly.

  Finally, twenty minutes ago, Megan began to tease him that she really was starting to believe that he had designs on starving her to death. He’d insisted that they would order something, but Megan put on his discarded shirt and marched out to his kitchen. Christian pulled on his jeans, looking vaguely annoyed as he trailed after her. She ignored his enticing inducements to get her back in bed as she searched his kitchen.

  “You have pasta,” Megan said victoriously as she held up a box.

  “So, I don’t have anything to go with it,” Christian growled.

  “Don’t be a grouch,” she said lightly.

  “I’ll be grouchy about anything that has to do with you getting out of bed or putting on clothes…including the necessity to eat.”

  Megan had just smiled in the face of his dark scowls as she’d prepared the pasta, using olive oil, leftover white wine from the refrigerator, and various spices to make a subtle sauce. She’d also tried not to notice how attractive he looked as he leaned against the kitchen counter wearing nothing but his partially buttoned jeans. She was surprised at how difficult it was to train her thoughts on something else now that she had come to know firsthand what a skillful and creative lover he was.

  After all of his complaining, Megan had to laugh as she watched him eat their simple supper of pasta and ice water like he hadn’t tasted food in days. She ate hungrily herself, wondering if their afternoon of lovemaking had somehow piqued her sense of taste to new levels of sensitivity.

  “I put up with it when you insisted on cooking for me, but you’re absolutely not going to clean up, honey,” Christian said after they had finished and carried their plates to the kitchen. Megan turned off the faucet when she heard his resolute tone.

  “Who will clean it up, then?” she asked as she watched him pull a bottle of wine from the built in wine rack and uncork it.

  “The maid.”

  “You have a maid?” she asked in surprise.

  “I have a cleaning service that comes in three times a week. They’re due to come in tomorrow.”

  “Oh, okay, then. So the dishes will get washed tomorrow, I guess. Thank you,” she said softly when he handed her a glass of red wine.

  “They won’t get washed tomorrow, either,” Christian said.

  “Why not? I thought you said—”

  “I did. But if you think that I’m letting a maid come up here while I’m still busy making love to you, you’re crazy,” Christian growled next to her ear before he kissed it. He leaned back, took a sip of wine, and examined her stunned expression.

  “Christian, I have to teach tomorrow,” Megan murmured, exasperated for having momentarily considered doing just what he’d suggested.

  “But you were tempted. I could tell,” he insisted with a lecherous rise of his eyebrows and a slow grin.

  Megan narrowed her eyelids. “Cocky,” she admonished.

  He grabbed her hand and began to lead her onto the terrace. “Honest is a much nicer way to put it.” He used both of their hands to flip out the kitchen and dining room lights on their way out the doors.

  “Oh, it’s gorgeous out,” she said appreciatively when they’d set down their wine glasses and Christian plopped down heavily in a padded deck lounger. When she started to sit in the chair next to him, he pulled her down on him so that she straddled his thighs. His large hands immediately sought beneath his shirt and began to caress the back of her thighs and her bare bottom. Megan glanced around uneasily. There were several high-rise buildings nearby, all of them a moderate distance away.

  “Someone might be able to see,” she murmured anxiously despite her growing arousal.

  “I turned out the lights. It’s dark. No one will see,” he assured her. Megan didn’t argue when he reached up and slowly began to unbutton his blue shirt. When he deliberately spread open the cloth to expose her breasts to his gaze, Megan felt the warm summer breeze gently tickle her nipples. He studied her in silence. She gritted her teeth, longing for him to touch her, but he didn’t. His gaze traveled up to meet hers.

  “A few nights ago, when I first touched inside of you, you seemed upset,” he said.

  “I wasn’t upset, Christian. It just felt... I don’t know. It’s a little hard to explain.”

  “You didn’t remember anything, did you?”

  She shook her head resolutely when she saw the anguish on his face. “No. It’s just that I’ve always been sort of…avoidant of that part of my body.” She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t have any memories of Henry Nightingale. I honestly don’t believe I ever will. But I think I might remember something about being examined at the hospital, afterwards. Just some disjointed images…that sensation…the tension in the air. Feeling afraid. I have to force myself to go for my yearly gynecological exam,” she said with an embarrassed laugh.

  His expression went rigid as he watched her.

  “It’s not a big deal. No woman loves getting a pap smear,” she joked to lighten the mood.

  He swallowed heavily. “Does it bother you when I’m…”

  Megan rolled her eyes. “You should been able to guess by now that bothered doesn’t accurately describe what I’m experiencing when you’re inside of me.”

  “Because there are so many ways to make love, Megan,” he continued quietly. “We don’t have to—”

  “I want to make love that way,” Megan insisted hotly. She looked a little abashed when she heard the tone of her own voice. She added contritely, “Not that I don’t like all the other ways too.”

  His lips twitched with humor. “I can’t say that I’m completely convinced, but I’m glad to hear you say so.” He paused for a moment and she sensed his hesitation. “Last night, when I was fully inside of you for the first time…well, do you remember what I told you about the T-shirt, about a person’s personal gateway to heaven?”

  “Yes.”

  “I found out what my personal gateway to heaven would be last night, Megan. And I felt like I’d failed my test of character miserably.”

  The uncertainty in his eyes made her ache. She shook her head rapidly. “There was no test, Christian. But even if there was, you were so, so far from failing it.” She glanced down at his bared torso. “Are you sure that no one can see us out here?”

  “I’m sure,” he said gruffly.

  Megan placed her feet at the side of the lounger and stood over him while she impatiently unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them over his hips. Christian helped her by lifting his pelvis. He was still peeling them off his feet and ankles when Megan straddled him again.

  The night enveloped them in a sultry embrace as she took Christian in her hand and began to pet him, stroke him, and tease him into a thick arousal. She loved the feel of him, like smooth silk pulled tightly over steel. She knelt between his thighs and brushed her tongue curiously over the engorged tip of him. Ch
ristian’s head snapped back against the lounger.

  “Holy…ah, sweet…Megan,” he muttered incoherently.

  She raised herself over him a while later and took him slowly, deeply into her body.

  His smile struck her as sublime.

  “Always the teacher, aren’t you?” Christian muttered thickly.

  “You’re an especially stubborn student. How many times will it take before you know how much I love this…how much I love you,” Megan whispered softly next to his lips.

  Than she began to rock him, and she thought Christian had finally learned his lesson.

  * * * * *

  They took a slow, sensual shower together afterward and returned to bed. With her prompting, Christian was talking about his career with Lasher Down. They were on their sides facing each other as Christian played idly with her curls.

  “I really liked your performance the other night. I never got a chance to tell you,” Megan said quietly after a while.

  Christian’s toying fingers paused. “You did?”

  She nodded. “I still can’t believe how talented you are. Why are you surprised I liked Lasher Down?”

  He shrugged uncomfortably. “It’s hard rock. Not your style. Besides, I was practically a kid when I wrote most of that music. I don’t really identify with it much anymore.”

  Megan stroked the dense muscle of his upper arm with appreciative fingertips. “It’s still good, Christian. And part of who you are. I want to hear all of your past recordings.”

  He shook his head slightly as if he couldn’t believe it, but smiled. Neither of them spoke for several seconds.

  “Christian?”

  “Hmm?” he asked, seeming distracted as he watching her stroking fingertips on his skin.

  “That song you sang the other night…you wrote that about your wife, didn’t you?”

  He met her gaze. “Yes.”

  “I thought so,” she murmured quietly. She glanced away.

  “Christian?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are you still in love with Cecilia?” she asked quietly.

  He reached under her chin and tipped her face up to meet his gaze. “She died five years ago, Megan. I did love her. And I was very…conflicted about her death.” He paused, thoughtfully. “But somehow, it doesn’t hurt anymore when I think about her. I’m starting to remember her more clearly when she was healthy and happy than I do when she was sick, and depressed, and…dying.”

  “She was depressed in the end?”

  Christian nodded.

  “Do you think that’s why she believed those lies about you?” Megan wondered in a hushed voice.

  He sighed. “That had a lot to do with it.” He palmed the back of her head in a warm caress. “Megan, I’ll always remember Cecilia. But I don’t miss her. She belonged to a different part of my life.” He felt the tension lesson in her neck muscles. “I don’t want to disrespect Cecilia, by speaking of her with you like this in bed, but…”

  Megan eyes widened in alarm at his words. She rose up on her elbow. “Christian, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to—”

  Christian shook his head. “No, you misunderstand me. I can see how you would wonder about it. I want to tell you this. Just let me say it, this once,” he insisted when she opened her mouth to protest again. “I didn’t feel the same way for Cecilia that I do about you.”

  “You didn’t?”

  Christian shook his head. He had an unsettled expression on his face, as if he were puzzling something out for himself for the first time.

  “Cecilia was running a very successful business even when I first met her. She was a clothing designer. She was beautiful, stylish, smart…incredibly confident. I think it was her confidence that drew me to her so much, initially.”

  Megan listened with a sinking heart. No wonder he said that he felt differently about Cecilia and herself. They were obviously very different women.

  “But …even though she seemed strong, even bold, on the outside, I know now that she wasn’t. Not really.”

  He hesitated.

  “Don’t say anymore, Christian. It’s none of my business.”

  He touched her arm gently. “It’s okay. I was just going to say that Cecilia seemed strong on the outside, but on the inside, she was as fragile as glass.” He must have noticed when her lips parted to speak; he must have guessed what she would say. “I’m not just talking about her being fragile because she was sick, Megan.”

  She stilled when she heard the quiet conviction of his words.

  He leaned in closer to her. “I was just thinking…it’s funny. Cecilia was so confident and brash, and yet, her real self was brittle and fragile. And you…”

  Megan stopped breathing when she saw the vague confusion on his handsome face clear.

  “You seem so delicate and unsure. But on the inside…your courage and your strength are a little frightening, they’re so vast.”

  “That’s not true,” she protested, embarrassed but warmed by his praise.

  “You’re entitled to your opinion, of course,” he said with a knowing grin that told her what he thought of that opinion. He pressed his mouth against her neck. “Did I answer your question adequately?” he wondered in between nibbling kisses.

  “Um, what question?”

  “The one about whether or not I was still in love with Cecilia.”

  “Oh. Yes, you answered it,” she replied breathlessly. He trailed kisses down her arm and began to lick the inside of her elbow.

  “Did I ever tell you that I have a real lech for your arms?”

  “No, not that I recall,” she murmured in amusement. She sighed in pleasure as he continued to kiss her.

  “I do. Your skin is so beautiful, and your arms are slim, but the muscle is…succulent.” He showed her what he meant by gently biting her biceps.

  “Did I ever tell you that I fell so crazily in love with you the first time that I saw you that I’m still surprised I didn’t fall right on my ass?” he continued in such a lazy manner Megan thought sure she’d misunderstood him. She froze.

  He glanced up to meet her gaze pointedly.

  “I just thought you might want to know,” he said as he slid up to kiss her on the mouth. “So that you wouldn’t go around making up comparisons in your mind, when really, there aren’t any that are remotely close to you, honey.”

  Epilogue

  The shrug Christian gave his sister was meant to communicate that the decision was completely out of his hands.

  “Don’t look at me, Katie. It’s Megan’s sculpture. She can do whatever she wants with it.”

  Katie’s mouth was still opened with disbelief. “But it’s worth thousands of dollars, Megan. What if someone here at your showing wants to buy it?” Katie contested hotly.

  Megan smiled, secretly pleased by Katie’s reaction to the fact that she’d just announced that she was giving her and Steve the sculpture she’d created from memory, the one that was based on her sketch of Nicholas sleeping in Katie’s arms. Christian, Megan, her sister Hilary, Katie, Steve, Tina, Seth, Sarah, Caroline, Mary, and James Lasher were currently standing before the sculpture in question. The cocktail party that Randy Rosenfeld had thrown to mark the opening of Megan’s exhibit was winding down to a close.

  “I never meant to sell it, Katie. It’s meant to be a piece that will stay in the family.” When she saw that Katie wasn’t convinced, she added, “Think of it as a wedding present.”

  That got Katie laughing incredulously. “Megan, you and Christian are the ones that just got married. Steve and I are supposed to be giving you some kind of lavish present, not the other way around. Which we will be doing, by the way, very soon. You didn’t give us a chance by eloping in Fiji that way,” Katie scolded to cover her discomfort.

  Megan smiled into Christian’s eyes when she felt him put his arm around her. For a brief second, she lost herself as she looked up at him. She knew that he was remembering their solemn wedding vows taken next to an oc
ean so blue, it nearly equaled the color of the gaze that ensnared her right now. Her wedding day would always be as near to her as Christian’s eyes were. Her husband squeezed her shoulder, and she knew he’d been experiencing the exact same memory as her.

  “I’ve known Megan ever since she was born, Katie, and I can tell you one thing for certain. She doesn’t show it very often, but she’s got a stubborn streak that goes miles deep,” Hilary said as she turned to Katie. Even though the two women hadn’t been friends in high school, over the past few months they’d begun to forge a friendship through their association with Christian and Megan. The fact that they were peers together all through elementary and high school only seemed to solidify their comfort with each other. “In other words, I hope you enjoy your new sculpture,” Hilary finished with a rueful laugh.

  “Imagine that. Megan has a stubborn streak,” Christian murmured lazily into Megan’s ear. She threw him a repressive glance that he completely ignored, kissing her soundly on the mouth.

  Later that evening they returned to Christian’s loft, where they’d been officially living together since they’d gotten married. Megan had traveled with Christian on several occasions when he had work to do in Los Angeles. It surprised Megan a little that she felt at home in both places. They were still “in talks” as to where they wanted to set up permanent residence, but Megan didn’t fret over it. She knew she’d feel at home no matter where they were, as long as she and Christian were together.

  Christian grasped one of her curls and rubbed it between his fingers, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I’m sorry you’re mother didn’t come to the opening, honey.”

  “It’s okay.” She saw doubt written clearly on his features. “Really, Christian. It is.”

  He sighed and let go of her hair regretfully. “I believe you. I guess it’s just me who gets annoyed at your mom for not noticing what a courageous, gifted, gorgeous daughter she has. I’m sorry that she insists on seeing you in any other way than what you really are.”