Just Trust Me…

by Jacquie D’Alessandro

  “Me, too. I only wish I had it in my hand right now.”

  “Personally, I really like what you have in your hand right now.”

  Her chuckle turned into a sigh of pleasure when he eased two fingers inside her.

  “Still cold?” he murmured against her neck.

  “No. God, no.”

  His magic fingers brought her to the edge, but just before she plunged over, he stopped, pulling his fingers from her body and a moan of protest from her throat.

  “Hold that thought,” he said, the glitter in his eyes letting her know he knew exactly where he’d left her. He moved to her shorts, snatched the condom from her pocket, then returned. After tucking their towels under one arm and lifting the bucket of water by the handle, he took her hand and led her to the large rock several feet from the riverbank where he spread the towels across the gray surface, then stepped up behind her.

  Peeking over her shoulder, she saw him bend down, then a gentle trickle of cold water touched her shoulder, meandering downward, eliciting a gasp. He rinsed all the soap from her body with that same unhurried drizzle, walking slowly around her so as to rinse everywhere, the leisurely trails of cold water an erotically charged contrast to her overheated skin, invigorating and stimulating as they coasted downward.

  When all the soap was washed away from her tingling skin, Kayla returned the favor, pouring a snail-paced stream of water over his body, watching the suds cruise down his taut muscles, leaving him clean, wet and more beautiful than any man had a right to be. His gaze never left hers, his eyes dark with desire, his chest rising and falling with his increasingly rapid breaths.

  The sight of the suds trailing down his body, so tight with arousal and with his obvious effort to remain still, shot arrows of fire through her. By the time she finished, she was all but panting to feel him inside her. In spite of the cold water and the approaching chill in the air as the sun’s light waned, she felt hot. Desperate. The folds between her legs swollen, heavy and pulsing. She dropped the bucket. It fell to the ground with a dull thud, and she reached for him.

  “Brett…”

  His name passed her lips, a husky murmur filled with the need she couldn’t have hidden even if she’d tried, and the fire already burning in his eyes flared brighter. Without a word he stepped behind her, pressing his front against her back. Heat emanated from his wet skin, shooting fevered shivers through her. Helpless to remain still, her hips circled against his erection which nestled against the base of her spine. She heard his quick intake of breath, and he smoothed his hands down her arms, entwining their fingers. He then leaned forward, bending her body beneath his, setting her palms against the towels covering the rock.

  “Don’t move,” he whispered against her ear.

  “Who wants to move?” She felt him straighten, and in a haze of lust, heard the condom wrapper being torn open. Bent at the waist, she looked over her shoulder. Saw him roll on the protection. Their gazes met and held. Then, grasping her hips in his large, strong hands, he stepped behind her.

  Anticipation that bordered on pain curled through her, and she widened her stance, arching her back, her body screaming for him, for release, as if she hadn’t been touched in years.

  His first thrust was a long, slow, delicious slide that dragged a ragged groan from her throat.

  “Again,” she whispered.

  He withdrew, then sank into her again and again, his strokes leisurely, teasing, each one pushing her closer to a climax she desperately wanted, yet also wanted to postpone for as long as possible because he just felt…

  “So…good,” she said, her voice a throaty groan.

  She surged back against him, and he leaned forward, blanketing her body with his. His hands came around her, one playing over her breasts, rolling her hard nipples between his fingers, while his other hand coasted downward, over her abdomen, then between her legs, teasing her sensitive flesh with relentless perfection while his body stroked deeply in hers.

  The added stimulation of his fingers, his lips and teeth nipping along her nape, his deep moans brushing past her ears, shot her over the edge as if she’d been fired from a cannon. Throwing back her head and arching her back, she cried out, pulsing waves of pleasure roaring through her. She felt his body stiffen, and with a harsh sound, he thrust deep then shuddered against her.

  She was still breathing heavily, aftershocks still rippling, when he withdrew and turned her around and gathered her against him.

  His warm breath feathered across her cheek, and she closed her eyes, absorbing the feel of his skin against hers, the steady, rapid thump of his heart against her cheek. The gurgling rush of river water spilling over rocks and the distant waterfall provided background music, combined with the twitter of birds and the gentle rustling of the leaves. Kayla inhaled the scent of damp earth and cool water mingled with the musky fragrance of their passion clinging to his skin, and a sense of warm contentment suffused her. She felt sated. Relaxed. And happier than she’d felt in a very long time. Because of this place and the unexpected sense of peace it gave. And because of this man and the myriad of emotions he inspired.

  Lifting her head, she opened her eyes. Their gazes met. Held. Neither said a word, yet she swore something passed between them. A silent communication that spoke of passion and intimacy and said more clearly than words that what they’d shared was…extraordinary.

  Keeping one arm tightly wrapped around her waist, he raised his hand and brushed back the damp curls clinging to her cheek with fingers that weren’t quite steady. “Kayla.”

  The way he whispered her name, with that note of wonder and reverence and desire, resonated through her, tightening her throat. She swallowed to find her voice, then replied with the only word she could. “Brett.”

  He lowered his head, and she parted her lips. Their kiss was a slow, deep, intimate, tender mating of lips and tongue, that now, in the aftermath of passion, soothed rather than inflamed.

  When he finally lifted his head, he rested his forehead against hers, and said, “That was…”

  She nodded, her nose bumping against his. “Yeah. I know.” Then a grin tugged at her lips. “You know, sandwiched between you and this boulder, it occurs to me that I’m caught between a rock and a hard place. I’d always thought that was a bad thing, but in this case-” she heaved a happy sigh “-definitely a good thing.”

  He chuckled, then dropped a quick kiss to the tip of her nose. “As much as I hate to say it, we’d better get back. Alberto told me that if we didn’t return in an hour, they’d send out a search party.”

  “Okay. But you may have to carry me. Once again you’ve robbed me of my knees.”

  He leaned back and his lips curved into that lopsided, dimple-producing smile that quickened her pulse. “Seems only fair. You robbed me of my wits. You have this very detrimental affect on my concentration.”

  “Really? Seems to me you’re very capable of focusing on the matter at hand.”

  “I guess I need to qualify my statement-you have this very detrimental affect on my ability to concentrate on anything other than you.”

  Her heart skipped a beat at his admission. “Is that a complaint?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “Well, in that case, I’m not sure whether to say I’m sorry, or Thank goodness it’s not just me.”

  “I know which one I’d prefer.”

  “Well, I might as well admit it. If I don’t, my nose will grow two feet, à la Pinocchio.” She raised up onto her toes and gave him a fast, teasing kiss. “It’s not just you-you have the same effect on me.”

  “Well, don’t think for a minute I’d consider saying I’m sorry, ’cause I’m not. I’m damn glad.” The amusement faded from his eyes, and his expression turned serious. “Damn glad I came to Peru. And that you did, too. Damn glad for the accident of fate that booked us on the same excursion.”

  The reality of her deception roared back with a vengeance, and the flood of guilt nearly drowned her. In the space of
a heartbeat she went from post-coital euphoria to miserable self-reproach, all made worse by the fact that she really liked this man. More and more, with each minute she spent in his company. Which only served to increase her guilt more and more, and fill her with a sense of genuine distress because she couldn’t help but wonder if their brief affair might not have turned into something deeper under other circumstances. As it was, she’d be an idiot to allow herself to become emotionally involved, because there was no doubt he’d walk away and not look back if he found out the truth. And if he chose La Fleur to manufacture his formula, he’d eventually find out.

  But she had a very bad feeling that it was already too late, and that she was well on her way to being an idiot.

  Shoving aside her guilt and offering him a smile that she hoped didn’t appear as tight as it felt, Kelly said, “I’m damn glad we’re on the same hike, too. And believe me, that’s saying a lot considering the non-Hyatt-Hotel-like facilities.”

  “You’re bearing up very well, I have to say.”

  “I can’t deny I’m enjoying the challenge, and having to concentrate on something other than the family and work minutia that normally fills my time. And, of course, the promise of amazing sex at the end of the day is quite an incentive.”

  “Agreed. And now that we’ve enjoyed that amazing sex-”

  “-twice.”

  “Twice,” he concurred, “Let’s take one last quick rinse, get dressed, then head back to the campsite to eat. I’m starving.”

  “For food?” she teased.

  “Yeah…for now. After dinner, once we’re settled in our tent, I’ll show you what I’m really hungry for.”

  She smiled, but a cloud of doom hovered over her sunny sense of anticipation. Because with each moment spent in his company, with each experience they shared-both sexual and on their hiking adventure-the more she didn’t want her time with Brett to end.

  And the more she realized that she had no choice.

  14

  WITH ALL the hikers seated on sturdy logs set around a large campfire, Brett breathed in the mouthwatering scents wafting up from the plate cradled in his lap.

  “For mountain dwellers such as the Incas,” Paolo explained, “meat, served with potatoes, was a mainstay of their diet. But corn was their most important and revered crop. The food Ana has prepared for you exemplifies that of a typical Inca meal. The corn raised in Cusco and around the Sacred Valley was, and still is, called choclo, and was considered the finest in the entire empire, with large, puffy white kernels and a distinctive, sweet taste. Tonight you will enjoy it in the classic style-boiled on the cob and served with a wedge of mountain cheese.”

  “The main dish,” he continued, “is called lomo saltado, which is strips of beef mixed with tomatoes, onions and potato chunks served over rice. She has also prepared rocoto relleno-a hot bell pepper stuffed with meat and vegetables. Ana makes the filling mild, but be warned, the pepper itself is quite spicy.”

  He smiled then raised his cup. “Tonight we shall drink one of Peru’s most delicious beverages, chicha morada. It is nonalcoholic and the deep purple color is due to the blue corn from which it is made. But before we begin our meal, we shall observe the Peruvian custom of offering a sip of our drink to Pachamama, or Mother Earth, to show thanks for the earth’s generous bounty.” He tipped his cup and spilled just a bit, then raised it to his lips and drank.

  Everyone followed his example, and the cool, sweet, drink slid down Brett’s throat. He looked at Kayla, noticed that her eyes were closed as she savored the unusual but tasty flavor. Paolo then picked up his fork, smiled and said, “Enjoy!” and everyone applied themselves to the meal.

  Under any circumstances, the food would have been delicious, but after such a strenuous day, capped off by mind-blowing sex-twice-Brett mentally dubbed the meal the Best Damn Food Ever. Everyone made appreciative noises and comments, to which Ana responded by smiling and thanking them.

  Conversations broke out about the day’s hike, with everyone adding their impressions and discussing what they’d enjoyed the most.

  “The Inca Trail offers a cornucopia for the senses,” Paolo said. “I invite each of you to tell what you liked best based on which of your senses was most engaged.”

  Eileen and Ashley chose sight, enthusing over the exquisite orchids, awe-inspiring vistas, and miles of deep-blue sky. Dan, Bill and Shawn chose touch, claiming they’d most admired the ruins at Llaqtapata, being able to run their hands over the centuries-old stones.

  Brett considered for a moment, then said, “I’d have to choose smell. I’ve always been interested in scents, studying the ways they affect us. The combination of fragrances here-clean air, forest, sunshine and something else, something indescribable that is unique to this place-makes it smell…peaceful.”

  Everyone agreed that a serene atmosphere permeated the trail, and how, in spite of the rigors of hiking in the high altitude, they felt very relaxed.

  “My favorite was the sounds,” Kayla said. “The rushing river, the crunch of leaves beneath my feet, the birds singing, the branches rustling. Living in New York City, I never get to hear the sounds of nature.”

  While they continued to share favorite moments of the day, Ana offered second helpings and no one refused.

  “This is incredible.” Kayla leaned closer to Brett while forking up another bite of the savory beef. “How Ana managed to prepare such a feast in the middle of a forest, without benefit of electricity, boggles my mind. I couldn’t hope to match something like this even with the aid of a professional kitchen and an assistant chef. I think she should have her own cooking show. I’ll do the PR.”

  He popped a piece of the smooth, creamy, mountain cheese into his mouth. “You don’t cook?”

  She shot him a sideways glance. “Depends. Do you consider smearing cream cheese on a bagel cooking?”

  “Depends. Is the bagel toasted?”

  She laughed. “You’re probably a good cook, what with knowing about combining chemicals and all.”

  “All that gives me is the knowledge to start fires in the kitchen-and, luckily, how to put them out. I’ve learned the hard way that combining chemicals in a lab and ingredients in a kitchen are two very different things.”

  “Here’s something I don’t tell everyone,” she said inching closer and dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I use my oven as storage space for my bread, cereal and cookies.”

  He shot her an exaggerated look of shock. “You mean it has other uses?”

  “Not as far as I’m concerned. Who needs an oven when you have a microwave and dozens of take-out places within a two-block radius?”

  “That’s my philosophy,” he agreed. “What kind of cookies do you keep in your oven?”

  “All kinds, because my philosophy is-There’s no such thing as a bad cookie. But my favorites are the hand-dipped double chocolate chunk biscotti from Delriccio’s bakery on the corner near my apartment.”

  “Sounds pretty uptown to me, princess. I’m an Oreo man, myself. Although, I’m a sucker for anything dipped in chocolate.”

  “Me, too.” Her eyes glittered with mischief and she sent a very pointed look toward his groin. “Which fills me with all sorts of ideas.”

  His body’s reaction was swift and immediate and he had to press his lips together to withhold a groan. “I’m going to choke on my mountain cheese if you keep looking at me like that,” he warned in a laughing undertone.

  “Not to put too fine a point on it, but I wasn’t looking at you. I was looking at your…” she silently mouthed the word cock. “And imagining it covered in chocolate.”

  Okay, who the hell tossed him onto the campfire? Heat sizzled straight to his groin. His fingers went lax and he dropped the piece of cheese he held. It landed on his plate with a soft thud, utterly forgotten.

  “Are you trying to kill me?” he asked in a low, strangled voice.

  Before she could answer, Ana stood and asked, “Who wants dessert?”
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  “I do,” Kayla answered immediately, laughter dancing in her eyes. Everyone else chorused their yeses. The empty dinner plates were cleared away to the sound of many compliments, then Alberto and Miguel offered coffee and tea while Ana served them each a small, individual cake baked in its own ceramic bowl.

  “It’s still warm,” Kayla said, wrapping her hands around the bowl.

  “And it smells delicious,” Dan said, leaning his face over the bowl and breathing deeply. “Chocolate. My favorite.”

  “Mine, too,” Kayla and Brett said in unison. Their gazes met and they both smiled.

  “After dinner the first night on the trail,” Paolo said, “it is customary for everyone to share something of themselves, about their lives, with the group. Where you live, your occupation, your hobbies, things of that nature. And most importantly, what drew you to make this journey. It helps to bring you closer to the people with whom you are sharing this wondrous experience. Many times lasting friendships are formed on the Inca Trail.”

  He smiled, then continued, “I usually go first so there is no shyness. I was born and raised in Cusco and still live there, very close to the house I grew up in-the house where my younger siblings Alberto, Miguel and Ana still live. Although, they tend to spend very much time at my house.”

  “Pretty girls always at your house,” Alberto said with a wide grin, and everyone laughed.

  “And handsome men,” Ana added, ignoring the scowls her brothers instantly shot her way.

  “I teach history during the school year,” Paolo continued, “and spend my summers guiding tours along the Inca Trail. I feel a deep connection with the history of this area, and although I’ve traveled extensively throughout South America, nowhere I’ve visited fills me with the same sense of tranquility as I find here. I look forward to every summer, to hiking to Machu Picchu, to renewing my spirit and filling my soul with peace.”