by Patti Berg
Trevor pulled his swim trunks away. He kissed her mouth again. God, he couldn’t get enough of her lips, her tongue, or any other sweet place on her body. He’d never known desire like this, he’d never wanted to take his time, to explore, to let his need build and build until he couldn’t take it anymore.
His breathing was ragged as he rose up to look into her warm blue eyes.
“Make love to me,” she whispered again.
“That’s what I’m doing, Adriana. Every kiss, every touch.”
Again he tasted her lips, swirled his tongue over her nipples and felt them harden as he moved lower and lower, going back to the beginning so he could slowly enjoy getting to know her needs.
Adriana jerked when he kissed the arches of her feet. She wanted him desperately, but he stayed away, torturing—no, tantalizing her body with his lips, his tongue.
No part of her was safe from his touch, not her toes, not the balls of her feet, not her knees, not the inside of her thighs, or...
Oh, God! She moaned out loud and her hips rose from the bed to meet his mouth. Heat rushed through her along with wave after wave of desire as his fingers grasped her bottom and held her close.
Where was the sin in what they were doing? Her father had been wrong.
When she thought she would erupt with pleasure, Trevor rose above her. They were eye to eye now, and he looked at her, his brown eyes flaming embers. She felt something hard where his lips had been, felt him slide slowly into her, inch by inch by inch. He stopped, gasping for breath, then smiled slowly before he drove into her.
She’d heard about pain, but felt none at all. Only a fullness and a desire to keep him there forever.
He kissed her slow and tender, waiting for her body to adjust to his, then just as slowly, just as tenderly, he moved within her.
The first spasm hit, then the second, and she dug her fingers deep into the skin of his back. His kisses ceased, and he looked at her, fear in his eyes. “Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head. “I never thought...” She gasped for air. “Oh, God! Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”
He smiled, took a deep breath, and filled her even deeper, until every nerve ending in his body screamed with pleasure, and his heart swelled with happiness.
With one last thrust, Trevor stilled, and slowly he rested atop her, cheek to cheek, breast to chest. Her legs were twined around him, binding them as closely together as the love they shared. He’d never known the true power of making love. Never known how much better it could be when the heart was just as involved as the body.
This wasn’t instant gratification. This was love, pure and simple, and grander than he ever imagined.
oOo
Trevor yawned and stretched, sliding an arm under Adriana’s just-waking body and pulling her on top of him. “Good afternoon.”
She rested her head on his chest and sighed in frustration. “I didn’t sleep the entire morning away, did I?”
“That and half the afternoon.”
“But there were so many things I wanted to show you today.”
“At one time or another this morning you showed me just about everything I ever wanted to see.”
Adriana lifted her head and looked into his eyes. “You’re very wicked, did you know that?”
“It’s one of my claims to fame. Would you like me to change?”
“Actually, I’d like you to be wicked again. I rather enjoyed it.”
Trevor rolled over and pinned Adriana beneath him. He held her arms at her sides and savored one small breast and then the other. “Is this what you had in mind?”
“For an appetizer.”
“I take it you’re aiming for a seven-course meal?”
“The more the better.”
Trevor shook his head. “I’ve corrupted you in just one night.”
“I think a touch of wickedness was just below the surface. All it needed was someone like you to bring it out of hiding.”
Trevor gathered Adriana into his arms, cradling her head against his chest. He played with the silkiness of her hair, the soft curve of her ear, cherishing the warmth of her body so close to his. This was a part of lovemaking he’d never indulged in. In the past, sex was a sport. He’d played hard, and he’d always won, but he’d never basked in the glory. He’d just gone off in search of another game.
It wasn’t a game any longer. What he had with Adriana wasn’t a quick seduction and a night of extraordinary sex. It was slow, sweet enchantment. It was pure and passionate. It was something enduring, and he couldn’t help but wonder what good thing he’d done in his wicked life to deserve someone so right, someone worth cherishing forever.
“Tell me about your childhood,” she asked, swirling her fingers through the light coating of hair around his navel.
“You know everything there is to know about my past. You’re an expert, remember?”
“You’ve already proved me wrong on more than one occasion. I have the feeling the stories I’ve read are nothing close to the real thing.”
“They’re not, but the truth isn’t worth bringing up.”
Adriana frowned and slid out of his arms.
“You wanted to know every minute detail about my life. Isn’t it time you divulged something about yours?”
Trevor shook his head, ignoring her plea. He didn’t talk about his past. His memories and nightmares were enough.
He traced a finger over her chest and slipped his hand beneath the sheet, gently caressing one small breast with his palm. “Kiss me, Adriana.”
She pulled away from his hand, but instead of fear in her eyes, this time he saw the sparkle of a smile. “I’m not going to be seduced again. Not now, anyway.”
Climbing from the bed, she swept the sheet around her body and winked as she left him lying naked on the middle of the mattress. She sauntered across the room and stood beside the window, smiling back at him over her shoulder just one time before looking out across the estate.
It amazed him how that simple act of bravado made him want her all the more. She was teasing him, and she was going to tease until she got her way. Maybe he should tell her about his past. Maybe she could help him forget.
He crossed the room and stood at her back, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close to his chest.
“I grew up in the middle of all this beauty,” she said. “It’s a lot different from where you grew up, isn’t it?”
Night had rolled in, blanketing the coastline and hiding the view of the Pacific. Still, in the amber glow of lights that lit the estate, he could see the tall, majestic palms that dotted the grounds, the Grecian columns of the temple beside the Poseidon Pool, the marble terraces. Yes, Sparta was different from his Chicago home. Not just in size and beauty, but in atmosphere. Sparta had been a place of parties and good times; his home had had neither.
“The books talked about a crumbling shanty near the railroad yards and the noise of trains switching tracks all day and all night long,” she said, breaking into his thoughts. “I can’t imagine you living anywhere like that.”
“I didn’t. I lived in a penthouse, not a shanty. I had a view of Lake Michigan, not of railroad tracks.”
Adriana twisted around in his arms and tilted her face to his. “But that’s so much different from the stories in the books. Why?”
“I didn’t want the studio knowing anything about my past, so they made up something they thought would get the most sympathy. It worked wonders. Son of a drunken switchman who slipped under the steel wheels of a locomotive. It looks impressive in print, and no other actor could lay claim to the same story.”
“Why didn’t you want them knowing the truth?”
“Because I’d worked too hard to forget the past. I was in Hollywood for nearly ten years before anyone was interested enough to put together a bio on me. My life had changed, and I had no connections with anyone in my old life.”
“What about your parents?”
“All connections I
had with them ceased the moment I got on the train headed for Hollywood.”
Her soft hand caressed his cheek, offering him comfort he’d thought he no longer needed. He thought the pain of being disowned was gone, but it wasn’t. It was buried deep in his heart. He’d kept it there for nearly twenty years, and every time it tried to come out of hiding, he’d take a drink and push it a little deeper inside.
Grasping her fingers, he drew them to his lips and kissed them. “I don’t want to talk about the past anymore. I’ve got a new life ... with you. What happened all those years ago doesn’t matter.”
‘It does matter. You wouldn’t let me run away from my fears. Well, I’ve got news for you. I’m not going to let you do it, either.”
“What happened to me has never interfered in my life.”
“Maybe it did. Maybe it’s the reason you drink.”
God, why did she continually drone on that subject?
“I quit drinking. Remember?”
“That doesn’t mean you won’t start again. I know all about drinking. I watched it kill my father. He started drinking when my mother died. He thought he could drink away the pain, but he couldn’t. He thought he could hide the pain, but he couldn’t. You’re trying to hide something, too.”
“I’m not hiding a thing.”
“But you are. Please tell me. Let me help.”
“Stop harping, Adriana. That’s the best way to help.
He stalked across the room and pulled on his jeans. “I’m going for a walk.”
“Fine. Go for a walk. Run if you want. You can go a hell of a long way, but you can’t run away from whatever it is that’s hurting you.”
She didn’t know what she was talking about. He’d walked away from the pain before. He could easily do it again.
He slammed out of the bedroom, through the sitting room, and took the marble stairs two and three at a time.
The house was quiet. The tourists, the guides, and the caretakers had left hours ago, while Trevor and Adriana slept and made love, and fed each other the food that had materialized in the dumb waiter.
He didn’t see a soul as he breezed through the hallways, out one of the massive side doors, and down the paths leading to the Poseidon Pool.
The cool evening air beat against him, calming some of his anger. All he’d wanted to do was make love to Adriana. He didn’t want to solve his problems, he didn’t want to dredge up the past, and he didn’t want to dwell on his faults. Couldn’t she just leave well enough alone?
Dim white lights shone on the temple when he reached the pool, and a few more cast a soft glow in the water. All else was dark, with the exception of the pale green lights that beamed into the tops of the palms.
There was no one around, and he did what he’d done early that morning to relieve his frustration. He stripped out of his jeans and dived into the Olympic-sized pool, swimming one lap after another. Back and forth, back and forth, until exhaustion grabbed hold of him.
He rested his head on the edge of the pool and closed his eyes. What was the matter with him? He’d long ago admitted to himself that he drank to drown out anything bad in his life. No one had ever cared before. He hadn’t cared, either.
For the first time in his life someone gave a damn about his excesses, and he’d pushed her away. Just as she’d done to him.
God, they were two of a kind.
And he wanted her desperately.
Pushing himself from the water, he combed his fingers through wet hair, then struggled into his jeans. He had to get back to her, and he wasn’t going to run away again.
He found her sitting in the front row of the theater, watching Captain Caribe laughing in the face of his captors as a noose was slipped around his neck.
“Pretty brave guy, huh?” Trevor asked, as he sat down beside her and wove his fingers through hers.
“I always thought so.”
The sound quieted around them when Adriana adjusted the volume control on the edge of her seat. Slowly she turned toward him. “He’s still a hero to me.”
“He laughed in the face of danger. I picked up a bottle.”
“But someone always came to his rescue. Someone always wrote happy-ending scripts. No one did that for you.”
“You’re making excuses for me.”
Adriana shook her head. “The man on that screen was a dream to me. I fantasized about him. I envisioned him holding me and making love to me, but it was only a dream. You’re real, Trevor. You make me happy and angry, and at times you make me want to cry. I don’t have to fantasize about you holding me because from the moment you stepped into my life, you’ve been there for me. I didn’t have to play one of your movies to feel good, you just seemed to know what I needed. You’re the real hero, not Captain Caribe. You’re the one I want to know. Every little detail.”
“You’re back to that again, huh?”
“I told you before I don’t give up easily. I’ve been in love with a myth for a long time. Now I want to know the truth.”
“I don’t even know where to begin.”
“How about the story of you sneaking in the back door of theaters so you could watch Mary Pickford? Truth, or fiction?”
It had been a long time since he’d thought about those early days, yet he recalled them quickly. “I had a nanny who took me to see Mary Pickford movies every chance she could get. We went at least once a month from the time I was six until I was nearly ten. When my parents found out, she got fired. They didn’t exactly approve of actors or movies.”
“Why?”
“I was supposed to study. My father was a lawyer, and my mother wanted the tradition to follow in the family. They were determined to have someone distinguished carry on the Montgomery name. Frivolous nonsense wasn’t allowed in our home. Of course, I had other ideas. I wanted to be an actor, so I started sneaking away from the house. My first job was taking tickets in a movie house. I didn’t get paid anything, but I did get to see the movies for free.”
“And your parents never found out?”
“One of my tutors caught me.” He drew Adriana’s hands to his lips, kissing her knuckles, then held them close to his chest as he related the story. “They locked me in my room for a week. I was given food, and textbooks to read, but my mother and father refused to see me. Even the maid who brought my food was told not to speak to me.”
Trevor laughed, a useless attempt to relieve some of his tension. “I was only ten. I was scared, and I didn’t want my parents to hate me, so I read the books and studied and I planned to be the kind of son they wanted when they let me out of that room. But at night, when I tried to sleep, I thought about the movies, about being on the screen.”
“I’m so sorry, Trevor.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s not like I was used to a lot of attention. My father was rarely home and when he was, I was confined to my room and my studies. ‘Children shouldn’t be seen and children shouldn’t be heard,’ that was his theory of fatherhood. My mother wasn’t the affectionate type, either. They never yelled, they never called me names, they just ignored me. I thought if I made a success of my life, they’d love me then, but I stumbled at every turn. I was locked in that bedroom more than once. A week here. Two weeks there.”
Trevor wiped a tear from Adriana’s cheek. He thought he should end his tale, but he’d never told a soul, and it felt good getting it out in the open, sharing it with someone who’d understand.
“I spent a lot of years trying to be perfect, but at sixteen I decided the life they wanted me to have and the life I wanted were totally different. So I left. I thought they’d come around, that they’d miss me and want me back, but that didn’t happen. I didn’t give up hope, though. I was sure that when they saw me on the screen they’d be happy for me. But, no. The first time I tried calling home, my father told me he didn’t have a son. He wouldn’t listen to my arguments. God, I even begged. My letters came back after that. They didn’t want anything at all to do with me.”<
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He took a deep breath. “That, Adriana, is the story of my life before coming to Hollywood. That’s the story no one else knows but you.”
“Why didn’t you tell Harrison?”
“Some things you just keep private.”
“Maybe he could have helped.”
Trevor shook his head. “Harry Stafford was the best friend I ever had. But Harry didn’t like dealing with problems any more than I did. He just paid out lots of money to keep trouble from getting too close.”
“Do you regret telling me?”
“Sometimes confession’s good for the soul. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I think I can get through anything if you’re by my side, even a sixty-year-old murder that I might have committed.”
“You didn’t. I know it.”
“You might believe in me, but I need to believe in myself.” Trevor leaned back in his seat and looked at the movie screen. “Captain Caribe might have escaped that noose, but I’ve still got one choking me.”
Adriana climbed up from her seat and sat in his lap, wrapping her arms about his neck. He’d never been comforted that way, and he liked it.
“I’m the only noose I want you to have around your neck,” she said. “We’re going to have to get rid of the other one.”
“It’s been sixty years, Adriana. It’s an old crime that’s been investigated ad nauseum. What makes you think we can find out the truth?”
“Because you have more at stake than the people who investigated the crime. Because you know all the before-and-after details.”
“I suppose I have to bare my soul about those things, too.”
Adriana nodded her head. “But not right now. I want to hold you. I want to prove to both of us that we don’t have to hide behind black scarves or whiskey. That if we’re troubled, all the comfort we need is in each other’s arms.”
Trevor slid his beard-roughened cheek across Adriana’s smooth one, and held her close. “I wish I’d known you over half a century ago.”
“I always thought you did. I’d sit right here in this theater and I knew that every time you kissed a woman or said ‘I love you’ on screen, that it was me you were kissing, that it was me you loved. I wished that you could step down from that screen and love me. Now you have, and every moment I pray that you’ll never go away.”