Gateway to Heaven Page 12

  “I’ll find a book to read and wait while you get ready,” Christian said as he reached for her shoulder and urged her toward the entrance door. Megan only acquiesced because she was too embarrassed to have this conversation in front of Jeff.

  “We’ll still have plenty of time to make our reservation for brunch,” Christian assured her as he pressed the fifth floor on the elevator, all the while ignoring her irritated expression and defensive stance.

  “Reservation?” Megan muttered in disbelief. “Weren’t you a little too confident that I’d go, Christian?”

  “Was I?”

  She just gave him a hard stare and marched off the elevator a moment later.

  “I’m surprised you’re up so early this morning,” she said sarcastically as she followed him into her living room. She was a little surprised at the wary look in Christian’s eyes when he turned around.

  “What do you mean?”

  She exhaled in disgust. “The night doorman told me how you’d been staying out really late almost every night this week. I just thought that eight a.m. might be a little early in the morning for you, given all your late night excursions.”

  “Peter told you that?” He grinned lazily. Then a thought seemed to still his flash of humor. “Is that all Peter said?”

  “Yes.” Megan shook her head in bewilderment. Did she really just manage to reveal to Christian for the second time in a row that she was keeping tabs on his comings and goings with their doormen?

  God, she was pitiful.

  She watched as Christian sat down on her couch and nonchalantly picked up a magazine from her coffee table. “I guess I’ll go shower,” she said sharply. Her anger at his insouciance mounted when he glanced up casually.

  “I’ll be here.”

  She didn’t move. Her rapidly beating heart seemed to falter when she noticed his blue eyes were on her bare legs instead of the magazine he was supposedly reading. His stare slowly moved up to her face. When he lowered the magazine, his gaze on her was warm and sincere. Megan felt some of her anger melt away when she experienced its impact.

  “What kind of excursions do you think I’ve been on these past few nights, Megan?”

  “I wouldn’t presume to know.”

  “But you have presumed, haven’t you?”

  “Why didn’t you call me?” she asked in a rapid rush of emotion. Heat flushed her cheeks, but for once, Megan wasn’t aware of her self-consciousness. Her frustration and hurt overpowered it.

  Christian set the magazine down carefully. “Did you want me to?”

  Angry tears stung her eyes. “What, do you get some kind of perverse pleasure out of making me say ‘yes’? Okay, then. Yes. I would have liked to hear from you. It’s almost been a week since…”

  Her voice trailed off and she licked her lower lip nervously.

  Christian’s eyes crackled with fire, but his voice was paradoxically calm. “Since I practically attacked you by the elevator? Is that what you were going to say?”

  Megan’s mouth fell open in surprise. She hadn’t been prepared for the self-disgust in his voice. She inhaled raggedly. “No. That’s not what I was going to say. I was going to say that it’s been almost a week since I made a fool of myself by the elevator.”

  Christian sat up straighter. “Honey, you didn’t make a fool of yourself. I’m the one who had promised myself that I wasn’t going to push you until you were ready. And the next thing I knew, I found myself dry-humping you with less restraint than a wild animal would have shown.”

  Megan went temporarily speechless at his crude description. For some reason, hearing him say it evoked what it had felt like, how on fire her body had been. She met Christian’s eyes and knew that he was remembering, too. She flushed and looked away under the impact of his hot stare.

  “I guess I’d better shower.”

  “Okay,” Christian said gruffly.

  They didn’t speak again of the days that they hadn’t seen each other for the next several hours as they ate brunch at Nomi. They seemed to have joined in an unspoken pact to avoid anything potentially stressful…to just enjoy each other’s company.

  Christian sampled her salmon Benedict and Megan nibbled at his omelet with fresh herbs. He tried to get her to try his sushi, but Megan just laughed and shook her head, insisting that the thought of raw fish for breakfast sounded far from appetizing to her.

  She asked Christian about the places he’d traveled, encouraging him to elaborate on some of his favorites. She sipped her coffee and listened to the sound of his deep, resonant voice with contentment. He peppered her with both salient and silly questions, such as where she’d attended college and graduate school, why she’d chosen education as her double major in addition to art, what her top five favorite movies were of all time, and why she wore her hair up when it looked so beautiful spilling around her shoulders.

  After Christian had paid the bill and they were riding the elevator down, Megan looked up at him. He was so tall in comparison to her, so strong, so male. His eyes on her were like cool flames. Later, she couldn’t believe she had the nerve to do it. She went to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. She pressed her cheek to his chest and closed her eyes. At the moment, it seemed like the most natural thing to do in the world.

  He embraced her in return and murmured near her ear.

  “Sweet Megan.”

  She felt the sting of tears behind her eyelids when she heard the catch in his deep voice.

  The elevator opened much too soon for either of them. He took her hand in his and didn’t let go when they got in the backseat of the cab.

  “Let’s have dinner together, too,” he said.

  Megan laughed. “How can you think about dinner already? I’m stuffed.”

  “I wasn’t thinking about dinner. I was thinking about you.”

  “Oh,” Megan replied, swallowing thickly.

  He went on to explain that he’d called his mother, and that she’d invited them to come to dinner at the house in Evanston that evening.

  “Will your sisters be there, too?” Megan wondered, eager to meet people who knew and loved Christian. She smiled when he nodded.

  When they got home, he walked her to her door. She paused when he spoke.

  “Megan?”

  “Yes?”

  “The only excursions I’ve been on late at night were working hard with my band practicing. We have a concert coming up soon. We took today off, because some of us were getting exhausted from the schedule.”

  “I see,” Megan murmured, a little embarrassed at how she’d subtly accused him of more illicit nighttime activities.

  “I thought of you every day. Every night,” Christian said with a penetrating blue-eyed stare before he caressed her cheek in parting.

  Megan leaned against her front door and waited for her rapid heartbeat to still.

  * * * *

  When Megan came home from her studio at Earth later that afternoon, there was a message on her answering machine from Christian. He asked her if they could leave an hour earlier than the time they’d agreed upon, because his mother had asked him to bring along Seth, and Seth wanted Sarah to come, too.

  “So that means we’re going to swing by and pick up Seth at the Four Seasons and then Sarah at Emilio’s house before we hit Mom and Dad’s,” Christian explained on the answering machine.

  Megan’s gaze raced to the clock in her kitchen, realizing that she’d have to hurry to make it on time. She was happy that Seth and Sarah were going. She’d enjoyed the couple’s company the other night at Emilio’s.

  She showered and let her air dry naturally into soft curls while she worked a moisturizer deeply into her skin. Christian had told her to dress casually for dinner, so she donned a pair of jeans and a yellow top that complimented her hair, eyes, and figure, and which felt sensually soft next to her skin. She applied her make-up sparingly, needing little tonight due to the glow in her cheeks and the added shine in her light green eyes. She needn’t
have worried about being late, though, because she was completely ready when Christian knocked at five o’clock.

  “Hi, sunshine,” Christian greeted with a small smile after taking in her appearance appreciatively. He reached up and rubbed a curl between his fingers in what was becoming a familiar gesture. Megan smiled, taking in his casual, sexy jeans and untucked white T-shirt, this time with a logo that merely read Purple.

  “What’s so funny?” Christian asked as they took the elevator down to the garage.

  “Your T-shirts. I keep meaning to ask you what they mean, but I never get around to it.”

  He glanced down in surprise, not even remembering what he’d pulled on after he’d showered. “Oh. Purple is this really cool art periodical that gets published in Paris. It’s got all the latest trends in painting, music, sculpture, and writing. About a year ago, I discovered that they even have a little store with some great stuff in it from up and coming Parisian artists. You’d really like it,” Christian said as he opened the passenger door for her.

  “You mean all of your T-shirts are names of places you’ve been?” Megan asked a few minutes later as they drove out of the parking garage.

  “Some of them, I guess,” Christian said as he expertly maneuvered his car up the garage ramp. He drove a sleek sedan, a luxurious car that strangely suited him perfectly.

  Seth was supposed to meet them at the valet park on Walton Street. When he wasn’t there, the valet service eventually shooed them off. Christian called Seth’s cell phone and left a message that they would meet him in the lobby of the Four Seasons. Seth wasn’t there either, though, so Christian said they should just go up to his suite. Megan thought she heard Christian mumble under his breath. “Probably out cold. Doubt he slept a wink last night.”

  “What about the one that said Heaven’s Gate?” Megan wondered idly when they got on the elevator.

  His brow crinkled in consternation until he recalled her comment about his T-shirts. “Heaven’s Gate? Oh, I got that shirt at some cheesy tourist shop in L.A. I don’t know what it referred to exactly, but it got my imagination going. I mean it would be different for everyone, wouldn’t it?”

  “What?” Megan wondered, confused by his meaning. They got off the elevator and she followed Christian down the hallway to the end penthouse suite.

  “The gateway to heaven,” he said with a shrug. “It would be different in everyone’s mind. For one person, it might be a place, for another person, it might be an experience, and for another, it might be another person. Heaven’s Gate—sort of like, whatever the initiatory experience would be to get entrance to your own personal nirvana.”

  Megan was watching him thoughtfully when he glanced over at her and grinned. Her heart squeezed in her chest.

  “Didn’t know I thought about so many deep and useless things, did you?” he whispered with amusement, his eyes sparkling. He leaned down close to her. They’d reached Seth’s door and he knocked, his gaze still locked on her.

  She shook her head. “Sometimes, it seems like I’ll never know all of you.”

  “You know what counts, Megan,” he whispered.

  Her pulse began to throb at her throat when she saw the way his blue eyes had fixed hungrily on her mouth. He leaned subtly closer. Her body mirrored his movement, swaying into him, her neck craning up while his stretched down to her. His lips felt firm and warm when they brushed against hers softly…slowly, as though he were memorizing every sensation of her.

  It was a non-threatening, questing kiss. She loved it, but she found herself craving more…more of the taste of Christian, more of his long, hard body pressed against her, more of his boundless passion. She put her hands on his shoulders and slid her tongue along the seam of his lips. He groaned and reached for her, pulling her tightly against his body. He tasted delicious.

  How could a man taste so good? She wondered dazedly as she went up on her tiptoes and craned up for more of him.

  As he deepened their kiss Megan vaguely became aware that she heard something other than the hushed silence of the plush hotel corridor. Sounds of passion entered their awareness: the rhythmic rocking of a headboard against the wall, a rough groan of intense arousal, a feminine cry segueing into a pleading chant.

  They stilled against each other’s lips as they realized what they were hearing. Megan opened her eyes and realized that Christian was watching her.

  His stare on her burned.

  For a few erotic seconds, their kiss deepened, becoming wild and hungry before Megan moaned softly and broke it off.

  “Christian, come away,” she whispered anxiously. He peeled his gaze off her and banged loudly on the door.

  “Meet us in the lobby, you two. And hurry it up, will you?” he yelled jokingly. Megan was horrified, but Christian only laughed when he heard a slight pause in Seth and Sarah’s lovemaking, followed by an even lustier resumption.

  * * * *

  Christian was so caught up in his own amusement and the sense of happiness that he felt for his two friends, he didn’t realize how distracted Megan was until they found a plush, private couch to sit on that faced an impressionist painting and a table with two fresh flower arrangements set in large, Chinese porcelain vases.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked when he realized Megan was avoiding eye contact with him. Suddenly he froze.

  God, he was such a jerk. Maybe hearing Seth and Sarah make love had frightened Megan in some way. But she shook her head distractedly and Christian realized she was just flustered, not seriously upset.

  “It’s just…embarrassing,” she murmured.

  Christian reached into the glorious loose waves of her hair and rubbed her neck, wanting to soothe her…needing to touch her.

  “Don’t be embarrassed. Making love is completely natural and in Seth and Sarah’s case, beautiful too, because they’re so much in love and they’ve waited for so long.”

  She met his gaze fleetingly, than glanced away. Something about her furtiveness made him re-interpret her reaction. His fingers stilled in their soothing stroking motions, then resumed after a moment.

  “Did you mean that it was embarrassing because you got turned on when you heard them making love at the same time we were kissing?” he asked in a hushed, intimate tone.

  “No,” Megan denied immediately. Color flooded her cheeks once again. When she spoke, Christian had to lean over to catch her mumbled words. “I mean, yes, but I wasn’t…aroused thinking about Seth and Sarah. I was hearing them…but I was thinking about…us.”

  Christian swallowed to try and still the heartbeat that suddenly pounded in his ears. “You were thinking about us making love?” he asked with a calmness he was far from feeling. Megan gave a small nod and Christian felt her hair gliding across his hand in every cell of his being.

  He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her; he wanted to drive her back to his loft this very second and lose himself in her for the rest of the night. Hell, he wanted to forgo the car ride home and take her upstairs to a hotel room, lay her down naked on a soft bed and proceed to familiarize himself with every delectable inch of her silky skin using his fingertips and his tongue.

  But of course he did none of those things. Instead, he kissed her temple and murmured next to her ear, “Thank you.”

  Her discomfort disappeared, replaced by curiosity. “For what?”

  “For your honesty.”

  Her eyes searched his for any traces of that he might be laughing at her. What she saw seemed to reassure her. “It’s not the first time I’ve thought about it,” she whispered.

  His quirked his right eyebrow. “No?”

  “No.”

  “Well that makes two of us.” He pressed his forehead against hers. He began stroking the back of her skull. Megan moaned softly.

  “When you think about us making love, what are we doing?” he coaxed.

  Her eyes fluttered open and then closed again as he continued his scalp massage. “Making love. I told you.”

  �
��There are lots of ways to make love, Megan. Every time I kiss or touch you, I’m making love to you.”

  “Oh…I see.”

  “But I’m still in the dark. So tell me what you think about,” he said as he pulled her closer on the couch.

  She smiled and buried her face in his neck. He held her. He loved the way she felt in his arms—so soft…so sweet.

  “Has anyone ever told you that you have a really dirty mind, Christian?”

  He chuckled. she pressed closer to his chest, as if she liked the sound.

  “When it comes to you? Crazy? Yeah. Besotted? You bet. Horny? No need to belabor the obvious. But dirty? Do I really have to be defined that way?” he asked with mock hurt.

  “Poor baby,” she chuckled into his chest.

  He smiled wider. He experienced a yearning to stay here with Megan all night, contentedly holding her and absorbing her laughter.

  “I’m not very experienced about sex,” she murmured.

  “I figured.”

  “It’s that obvious?” she murmured.

  He shrugged. He’d rather she looked at him while they talked about this, but he knew she was doing what felt the safest for her. “What difference does it make? I like everything about you.”

  She lifted her head and met his gaze. “You do?”

  He nodded slowly. “I only stayed away for all those days because I was trying to figure it all out about you.”

  “And did you…figure anything out, I mean?”

  “I definitely figured out that it wasn’t one or two things I liked about you. It’s pretty much every damn thing.”

  Her small smile entranced him. “Oh…well in that case, I only brought up my inexperience because my fantasies about making love might not be very…you know, sophisticated.”

  Christian scowled. He wanted to tell her that he could care less about sophistication, but he didn’t want to interrupt her because she seemed to be on an honesty roll. He told himself that his interest in what she said was purely clinical. After all, her sexual fantasies would automatically give him a clue how she felt safest with a man, as well as what types of situations or actions might conversely cause anxiety.