Trusting Again (7 page)

She propped herself up on one elbow so she could carefully roll the condom over his erection. He watched the intent look on her face, felt the light touch of her small hands as she stroked him, felt the pressure begin to build again in his body to enter her but he gritted his teeth, willing himself to slow down his reaction, wanting to make this last as long as he could and to let her set the pace.

The condom in place, she looked up at him, her eyes bright with desire. “You’re beautiful everywhere, every part of you,” she said. “I could look at you all night long.”

“I had something in mind other than just looking,” he said.

“Oh, yes, please.” She put her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. “Yes, please.”

He claimed her mouth again with his; he wanted to keep it gentle, to enjoy just a little longer the pleasure of touching her, feeling her body under his, her sweet mouth opening for him but there was no way in hell he could. His control was on a long thin string and about to give out.

And she was there, too.

“Please. I want … ” She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t have to. Her body told him exactly what she wanted. She opened her legs and ground her hips up against him. Slowly, carefully, he entered her. She was tight. She was hot. He was inside her and he wondered if he’d want to be anyplace else ever again.

The long, slow, in and out rhythm quickly became harder, then faster; his breathing and hers matched the speed. He pulled back to look at her, saw the flush on her face and waited for what he wanted to hear.

“Marius!” His name came out in a whoosh of breath. “Oh, God, Marius.”

There it was, what he wanted, the sound of his name on her lips as she came. He could feel her inner muscles tighten around him, rhythmically milking him as their bodies moved in sync. With one more thrust deep into her, he felt his body contract and release in a mind-blowing ejaculation.

He collapsed against her, limp and sweating. He held her until they were breathing easily, although he wasn’t sure he would ever breathe easily again around this woman. He kissed her forehead before slipping out of her and out of the bed to take care of the condom. When he returned, she was curled up in a ball, a sleepy, sated expression on her face.

He drew her to him, her back to his chest, his arm around her middle. They lay together like that for a long time, saying nothing. “I could stay like this for hours,” he said as he nibbled at her neck and shoulder.

“Mmm, I could, too. But I should go home before I fall asleep.”

“I thought I might be able to tempt you not to fall asleep just yet. And, if I can’t, convince you that you don’t have to go home to fall asleep.”

“You want me to stay?” She turned and looked at him, a surprised expression on her face.

“Of course, if you want to. I’ve only just begun to learn what I want to know about you.” He pressed the beginning of another erection against her and skimmed his hand over her hip and thigh as he spoke. “And I make a very nice breakfast.”

“Oh, well, if breakfast’s on offer … ” she said before drawing his face close to hers and kissing him.

• • •

Cynthia never needed an alarm clock to wake up, her body clock worked just fine. And the next morning was no different. She woke at her usual early hour, disoriented for a few seconds until the smell of Marius’s aftershave mixed with the smell of clean sheets and sex reminded her where she was, what she’d been doing and with whom she’d been doing it.

He was still sleeping, his back to her. Stretching in the glow of an amazing night with a gorgeous man, she decided coffee in bed with him sounded like a good idea so she slipped out from under the sheet to go to his kitchen.

The clothes question arose immediately. There were too many glass walls in his house for her to wander around naked. But she didn’t think she wanted to get dressed in her skirt and blouse quite yet — the skirt and blouse which were still in a heap on the floor where they’d been all night. She picked them up and hung them on the back of a chair hoping some of the wrinkles would disappear before she left. In the same pile was the shirt Marius had worn. She put that on and, in her bare feet, padded quietly out the door and up the stairs to the kitchen.

Where she found a piece of equipment she’d paid little attention to when Marius had made coffee. It was huge. Artfully made, with what she assumed were coffee trees embossed on shiny copper and silvery steel, it had more dials and gauges than the control panel of the space shuttle. She touched several of them trying to figure out where to start to get the coffee going.

“Is coffee what drove you from my bed at this ungodly hour? I should hire you. You are more obsessed with our product than anyone in my family.” Marius was yawning between sentences, wearing only jeans and an overnight growth of dark stubble. And he was magnificent. Dear God, he was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen. He made her mouth dry just looking at him.

“I was going to make some and bring it downstairs for you, but I don’t have the engineering degree I need to make your coffee maker work.”

He laughed. “Let me. Then we can both go back to bed.” He yawned again. “Sorry. I’m not much of a morning person.” His eyes did a quick scan of her body as he fiddled with a container of coffee beans and his machine. “But even in my half-awake state, I can see how beautiful you are in the morning. And you do things for that shirt I doubt the maker ever thought of. Rather than work for my company, you should model for the shirt maker. They’d sell a hell of a lot of product.”

“Thank you. You’re very kind,” she said, before she realized how stupidly formal it sounded. It shouldn’t have been awkward, not after the night they’d had, not after multiple orgasms and several rounds of the best sex she’d ever had, but it was. She felt like a kid caught sneaking around someone else’s house. She was in his kitchen, wearing his shirt, playing with his coffee machine. Lusting after his body.

Looking around for a distraction, she saw what looked like nautical charts spread out on the small breakfast room table. She wandered over to the table. “I didn’t notice these last night.”

“No? Well, we were busy with other things.” The wicked smile was back.

She ignored it. “Are you planning a trip? It looks like you’re going to the San Juans.”

“I am. I’m going sailing for ten days, starting next Friday.”

“I’m green with envy. Is this your annual vacation or something?”

“More like ‘or something.’ I leave soon after the sailing trip for six weeks in Central America. I always try to have some time to myself before I go on one of these big business trips.”

“Where’re you going in the islands?”

“Haven’t completely decided yet. Definitely a couple days on San Juan Island. I have a friend in Friday Harbor, a coffee roaster who has a special roast for me, and I like Roche Harbor too. You said you liked the San Juans. What’re your favorite places?”

“Haven’t been in awhile, so I don’t know if things have changed, but I’ve always liked Orcas Island for the art galleries, And we used to bicycle on Lopez. Oh, and I like Jones Island.”

“Jones? Really? I’ve never done more than sail past. What’s there?”

“The whole island’s a state park. It has nice camping sites and a quiet cove or two.”

He had the coffee dripping by now and was looking at her with a thoughtful expression. “Why don’t you come with me and show me?”

“Come with you? I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s … we haven’t … I mean … ”

“I promise not to chain you to an oar and force you to row across the Pacific on water and hardtack. And I’ll throw in having the master cabin all to yourself if that makes the offer more appealing.”

“Hardtack? Do they still make that?” She laughed. “Fear of being shanghaied isn’t the problem. I just can’t.”

“You have other commitments. I understand.”

“No, not that.”

“Then what?” He shook his head. “Never mind. I’m putting you on the spot. Why don’t you think about it for a couple days? I’m leaving tomorrow for a quick trip to visit some of our clients in California before I go to Central America. I’ll call in a couple days and you can let me know what you decide. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have sail with me, but if you don’t want to, I understand.” He checked his coffeemaker. “But now, coffee’s ready. And my bed is calling. Want to join me?” The look in his eyes was definitely not one that said he was going back to sleep.

Cynthia spent the next few days playing “should I/shouldn’t I” with herself as she tried to decide whether she’d go sailing with Marius. Ten days on a boat with him sounded glorious. And scary. Romantic. And threatening. A welcome vacation when she hadn’t had one in years. A definite challenge to her determination to resist falling for the most attractive, sexiest man she’d ever met.

Why was she even considering it? She’d told herself she wouldn’t get involved with someone like him again. A man who could break her heart in an instant by leaving her because she wasn’t the woman he needed with him. Just like Josh had.

But Marius wasn’t like Josh. He was sweet and funny. Successful and financially well-off like Josh, yes, but he’d pursued her, even after he thought she’d ignored the note he’d left for her at the Heathman. God knows he was an amazing lover. But outside of bed, what did they have in common? They lived in different worlds.

The whole time he was in California, she went back and forth about going or not going. She couldn’t make up her mind. Finally, she decided she’d just say the first thing that came to her mind when he asked again. But on Tuesday night, when he called from L.A., before he could even ask she said, “What time will you pick me up on Friday?”

• • •

Surprisingly, instead of the designer jeans and Ralph Lauren polo shirt she’d imagined he’d wear, when he showed up at six
A.M.
on Friday, he was in cut-offs and deck shoes with an unbuttoned blue work shirt, the shirttails of which were tied around his middle. After she stopped staring at the muscles in his chest, she saw he was sipping — maybe gulping would be a better word — from the biggest personal coffee cup she’d ever seen.

“Tired from your trip?” She gestured toward the cup.

“Not a morning person, remember? It takes this much caffeine to get me going if I have to function at this hour.”

“I don’t understand how you can dislike mornings. It’s my favorite time of the day. Everything seems possible when I first get up. Nothing has gone wrong yet.”

“Except having to leave the comfort of my bed.” With one raised eyebrow and a half-smile, he handed her the coffee cup and picked up two bags of groceries and her large duffle bag. “If you can take that little duffle, my cup and whatever’s in those plastic bags, we can get this out in one trip.”

The Olympic Mountains to the west and Mt. Rainier to the east presided over a Northwest summer morning that would have stolen the heart of even the most determined advocate for some other part of the country. The sun was out; the sky was clear. Morning light bounced off the windows of the upper floors of downtown skyscrapers that, in the winter, were often above the city’s ubiquitous low-hanging clouds. Today the buildings stood proudly visible over a city just beginning to awaken.

The top was down on the car; traffic hadn’t gotten to gridlock yet. Once they were out of Seattle proper, Marius hit the gas pedal and they seemed to fly. He drove with the same relaxed skill with which he seemed to do everything and Cynthia got caught up in the enjoyment of the ride. She didn’t dare look at the speedometer, but then he was the one risking the speeding ticket.

However, even the Washington State Patrol seemed under Marius Hernandez’s spell this morning. They were nowhere in sight. No cops. Beautiful weather. A fast car. A handsome man. And her Death Cab for Cutie CDs. She didn’t know how the day could get much better.

They made good time getting to Anacortes where the boat was docked. That’s where the day got complicated, where the consequences of her decision hit. He suggested she stow her duffle bag and some of the groceries while he went to the marina locker to get the gear stored there. As soon as she went below, she saw what she should have thought about before making a decision — the quarters in the boat were tight. Standing in the middle of the living space, a seat on either side that she knew became beds at night, she wondered if she’d made a big mistake.

Within five minutes, the whole place would smell like him. She’d be squeezing past him dozens of times a day going from the deck to the kitchen and God knows what they were going to do about sleeping arrangements. He’d said she could have the master cabin to herself but …

“The master cabin is behind you,” he said, coming down from the deck. “Throw your stuff in there. It’ll give you some privacy. I’m used to sleeping out here anyway.”

“Oh, you’ve rented this boat before?”

His smile was almost shy. “I didn’t rent it. My friend Enrique and I own it. It’s our way to run away from work. We each have it two weeks a month.”

“Then it’s even more appropriate that you sleep in the master cabin. I’ll sleep out here.”

He picked up her duffle bag and threw it onto the bed in the cabin. “There. Done. You’re in there. The captain says so.”

The rest of their preparation for leaving, loading supplies and gear, went better and they were ready to motor out of the marina only a couple hours after they got there. They weren’t alone on the water, by any means, but as it was a weekday, they weren’t part of an armada either.

When they got to open water, they hoisted the sails. Skirting around smaller islands, looking at the homes nestled in the woods along the shore or up on a hill, hoping for an eagle or two to swoop overhead, they began to make their way in a circuitous course toward Orcas Island.

She’d somehow forgotten how free it felt to skim over the water, the sea air in her face, the boat heeling with the wind. It brought back some of her best memories of growing up. In the first two hours, she laughed more from sheer joy than she had in years. It took her less than that to decide, given her choice, she’d spend the rest of the summer sailing if she could, it didn’t matter where. From watching Marius, she was pretty sure he was enjoying it as much as she was. Not to mention seeing him handle the lines, sheets, and tiller answered the question she’d had about how he got those calluses on his hands.