Part 21 (1/2)

Back at the condo, Trevor was quiet, and though I was boiling with anger, I readied myself for bed, determined not to argue with him, afraid I might let everything spill.

He eyed me from across the bedroom. ”Anything you want to say to me? I can see the steam coming out of your ears, you know.”

I shook my head. ”No, I'm fine.”

”No, I'm fine,” he mimicked in a high whine. ”I can tell you're not fine, Gwyn.”

”Let's not get into it, okay?”

Naked, Trevor flopped onto the bed and reached over and shut off the lamp, leaving me in darkness.

Still undressing, I turned on the lamp at my side of the bed.

”Maybe you should sleep in the other room,” he muttered, not looking at me.

I suddenly wanted to slug him and cry at the same time. I'd been hoping ... needing, actually, for him to hold me. After all I'd been through today. ”Sure, I can do that. I'd be glad to do that.” I stomped around the foot of the bed and past him out the door.

I yanked down the blankets on the twin bed across the hall.

”Gwyn?” he called out.

I refused to answer.

”Gwyn, baby?”

”What?”

”Come to bed, okay?”

I crept to my doorway, stood there, snuffling back a tear.

”Please?”

I hesitated, then raised my chin and walked over. He reached up and drew me down on top of him. ”I'm sorry,” he said, kissing my cheek. ”I'm a d.i.c.k. You forgive me?”

”No.” And then ... ”yes.”

He rolled me beneath him, tucked his hands into my bra and released my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, then eased the straps away and unlatched the bra. His breath was warm on my face, and I could catch traces of the cologne he'd worn earlier. I heaved a sigh, excited.

”Never go to bed mad,” he said, his voice low, his kisses trailing alongside my hair, my ear.

”Should we turn out the light?” I asked, shutting my eyes, wrapping my arms around him.

”No, let's leave it on.” His mouth moved in slow hypnotic circles down the side of my neck, while his hand deftly pulled at my panties. I wiggled out of them.

”I need you,” he said, entering me, filling me completely. I thrilled to his touch, warmed to the sensual rhythm as I lifted my pelvis close, scooped him up, squeezed him. I rotated against him-stoking the fire, again and again.

He reached between my legs and touched me, and it was like an electric shock. He began to stroke softly, slowly, round and round ... taking me higher ... hotter, then moving faster, working me into a frenzy. I clenched with ecstasy as he brought me almost to the brink. ”Do you want it?” he said. ”Do you want it?”

”Yes ... yes.”

”Then, take me,” he groaned. ”Take me. f.u.c.k me.”

For over an hour, he concentrated his attention on every available crevice of my body, bringing me to the edge, then back again, making my heart race, driving me crazy, as it seemed he was always, and easily able to do.

Afterwards, I lay spent, perspiring, my body limp-satisfied. I looked over to him. He lay on his back, hands behind his head, looking up at the ceiling. He turned and smiled at me. ”I'm dead,” he said. ”You killed me.”

”You killed me first,” I said, grinning back at him, and was suddenly struck by the depth of my love for this man. I was in deep-way, way, too deep.

The next morning, Trevor and I met Bob and Sylvia for breakfast at a quaint gourmet restaurant, one of my favorites, complete with lace curtains and delicately embossed silver coffee and teapots. I ordered coffee and a western omelet. Trevor ordered eggs Benedict, and Sylvia, thinking Trevor's choice a wonderful idea, ordered it too. Bob chose a tall stack of pancakes.

Though Sylvia wanted to rent a car equipped with a rooftop ski rack for the trip to Snowma.s.s, Bob insisted it would waste time and wasn't necessary for the one day. Instead, we waited for the shuttle bus, which picked us up promptly at ten o'clock.

Sylvia had removed the bandage from her lip, and I could barely tell that she'd been injured at all. My neck was sore, but this morning's hot shower and a large dose of ibuprofen had helped to take my mind off it.

The bus was only half filled with skiers, so the four of us were able to find seats near each other. Trevor and I sat together. Sylvia and Bob sat directly behind us. Trevor was on the aisle and turned around frequently to talk to them. I wasn't interested in talking, but I did listen.

”I spoke with the ski school earlier,” said Sylvia, ”and my instructor will meet us out in front of the building.”

”So,” asked Bob, ”are you going to be able to ski with us?”

”Of course,” she said, ”for the money I'll be paying him, he should be happy to accommodate me in any way I choose.”

”How do you know it will be a him?” asked Trevor.

”Because I asked. His name is Andreas.”

I heard Bob laugh softly, then some whispering, then a smack, as if Sylvia had slapped Bob on the lap.

”Stop it,” she squeaked. ”If you're going to tease me, you can move to the back of the bus.”

He laughed again, then the conversation settled down to comments about the sunny weather and the rising price of lift tickets and its effect on skiing as a whole.

The four of us met at the ski school and collected Sylvia's instructor, a great looking guy, maybe thirty-five years old, tall and broad shouldered with a p.r.o.nounced Austrian accent. His hair was a thick blond, and he wore silver Oakley sungla.s.ses that perfectly matched his blue and silver ski suit.

As we made our introductions, Andreas removed his sungla.s.ses and slid them atop his ski hat, revealing friendly and knowledgeable blue eyes. I decided as I looked him over that Andreas had summed up our party pretty quickly, and likely his only real concern would be how thick a wad of cash would be in his hands by the end of the day.

Sylvia gave him the game plan, and of course, he acquiesced to all she suggested.

”If one of the others wants a little help, could you do that?” she asked. ”Of course, I'd compensate you.”

”Certainly,” he said, his smile as bright as the sun overhead.

He bypa.s.sed the long line to the chairlift and led our party to the front, our privilege for paying for the lesson. Sylvia had hired him for the entire day.

Bob and Trevor high-fived one another as the chair carried us up the mountain. Sylvia rode with her instructor. Bob, Trevor, and I rode up on the chair immediately behind them.

”All day it's going to be like this,” Bob said. ”What a great idea. Hire an instructor to cut the lines.”