Among The Cloud Dwellers (Entrainment Series) (14 page)

I blinked sadness back and looked at him.

Conflicted emotions swirled the blue of his eyes. He sat back down and took my hand in his. The crown of his blond hair bent and he kissed my open palms.

I closed my eyes.

“I watched you sleep last night.” His breath filled the lines etched in my palms. His words sieved through my closed eyelids and I tensed, waiting.

“In the darkness I believed I could tell you secrets I have told no one. And knew you would understand.”

I barely nodded and closed my hands around his. In a whirlwind of spiraling emotions, I flashed back to the past life regression and the blood-caked wound of Xavier’s chest. Madame Framboise’s words echoed in my head, “Keep honesty and an open heart up front if you will . . .” And right now my heart was overwhelmed. I had kept it shut for so long I was afraid it would burst, unable to contain such an abundant amount of love.

This is not how I had envisioned it. I was falling for him.

Free falling . . . and the net will open.

But I was afraid. The meaning of my nightmare suddenly became clear. What was it going to take for me to leap? Into Gabe . . . into Magic . . . into my soul?

“How about I take you back to the winery, you pack your bags, and we go back to my place. I’ll drive you to the airport tomorrow.”

“You wouldn’t mind driving me all the way to Umeracha and back to your home?”

“No, luv. What I mind is you leaving tomorrow.” He let go of my hands and stood.

Another nightmare to face.

“I know. I’m sorry.” I grabbed my flowers, added the lavender sprig, and readjusted my bouquet.

Gabe watched in silence. “No worries. Let’s just forget about it and think
now
.” He led me outside. His grip on my hand spoke a thousand words.

With the sun a distant memory across the dusking sky, it had suddenly turned cold. We walked arm in arm back to the shop, where we found Gomi all alone, busy locking up. He had changed into regular street clothes and looked even younger, disappearing inside an oversized fleece jacket and baggy jeans. He flashed us that breathtaking smile and smoked away on a chrome motorbike.

Gabe quickly checked to see if everything was in order while I gave the Jourdains a quick warning call.

We were both quiet as we left Adelaide and traffic behind us and began to speed up across the deserted country roads. The car smelled of dried lavender as I subconsciously gripped my bouquet with both hands. It didn’t take long to get back to the winery. I guess it’s true that time does fly when you’re having fun. I couldn’t believe how comfortably I shared silence with Gabe. I was content just to be near him. Too soon, we pulled into the driveway at Umeracha.

I love that about us,
I thought, opening up my bottled, piled-up emotions. I rushed and tripped over my feelings spilling outwards as I climbed upstairs to my room to pack.

While the boys grilled Gabe about our work at the garage, Beverly joined me upstairs. I was sure she planned to do some grilling of her own, but she soon proved me wrong. Madame Jourdain wasn’t feeling well and wasn’t going to be able to say good-bye to me. She had written me a sealed note I was to read once I left, Beverly told me in a conspiring whisper. I thanked her for the note, for the great hospitality, and the unforgettable time I’d had in their company. She hugged me and helped me carry my luggage downstairs.

They were all waiting for me and I had a terrible time choking back tears. When Frank gave me a couple of bottles of Shiraz I lost it and began to cry. Then Nicolas grabbed me in a tight hug, hissed to me in his snake voice, and I cracked up.

“You idiot!” I choked, laughing through my tears and hugging him back.

“How about me, dear lass? How about hugging your favorite piccies taker?” Desmond’s voice, sounding quite pickled, boomed from behind Nicolas’s shoulder. I raised my head and noticed he didn’t look in the least pickled, just his usual abominable self.

“Desmond! I thought you’d be gone already.”

“And miss the chance to aggravate you a bit longer?” he quipped, squeezing me tight.

“You don’t aggravate me, Desmond.
You make my life
spicier
,” I conceded leniently. A strangled whisper was all I had left after he depleted my air reserves with a single squeeze.

“Bloody hell! I can’t imagine what sort of bland life you lead away from me, then!” He looked up at Gabe. “How about you help marinate the life of this
juicy morsel
from now on, mate?”

Oh great!
I groaned.

“I don’t know much about marinating, but she can count on me from now on,” Gabe said quietly.

Dom and Lori helped me with my luggage, and I promised Beverly to send her a few copies of
A’ la Carte
when the article came out. After another round of “good-byes,” we finally left.

“They’re great people. I see why you would want to write about what they’re doing,” Gabe said, maneuvering the car out of the driveway.

“What about you, Gabe? I’m sure you have had people writing about you . . . ,” I tried not to think of the heavy sadness anchoring down my heart at the thought of leaving such a genuine and warm family behind.

“Yes, I have.” His eyes shone black when he glanced over at me. “Especially after the accident.”

I had suspected something of that sort. Did I want to go into it with him now? My instinct warned me about launching a serious, life-threatening debate. Oh, why not? Just like Gomi earlier, I decided to be straightforward. Now was as good a time as any.

“Is that why you have the shop now?”

“Yes. It’s a way to still be part of it now that my body can’t take it anymore.” His voice had grown darker.

“Physically?” I was dubious; he looked to be in great shape.

“Partly.”

“Mentally?” Had he lost the focus Gomi had talked about?

“Naw—mentally I’ve got it. More than ever, if possible.”

“Then it’s spiritual.” It wasn’t a question and of course he didn’t answer.
Bingo. Here we go.
“But the fever is still brewing deep inside you.” It felt like pulling teeth.

“I’ve learned to live with it,” he justified curtly.

Oh, I personally knew this subject. I shook my head, “You’ve adjusted. Learned to live with the brewing intensity of it.” I took his silence for agreement and pressed on. “What’s going to happen the day the fever has gathered enough strength and finally decides to erupt?”

Gabe took a deep breath and slowed the car down. “How do you know?”

“I don’t.”
You tell me,
I gambled.

He saw right through it. “If I live to face the challenge—spiritual limitations and all—if the fever decides to fuel my dormant passion for racing, then I’ll rise to the challenge and will give it all I’ve got, Porzia. And you should too. When your own Dreamtime erupts from the seed and you accept your own powers.” The lavender-scented air in the intimate space of the car rippled with the force of his determination. He exhaled, easing off the subject. “You never cease to amaze me.”

“Because I ask you questions about things you don’t usually talk about?” I offered. Then I pressed hard, “And you like me enough that you’d rather answer instead of telling me to mind my own business?”

He shook his head, and his blond highlights caught flashes of the waning moon up above. “You haven’t leaped either.”

“No. I haven’t.”

The moon hid behind a cloud, and darkness fell around us like a spent mouth with nothing left to say.

Minutes went by in the dark silence and then something clicked in my mind.

“Is that why you said the quote in the chocolate couldn’t have been about you? Because something binds your spiritual freedom?” Where the hell was I going with this?

“You’re having a go at it again.”

“Am I?” I smiled.

“You’re not going to write about this, are you?”

“No, but I might tell your competition how you chucked the standard engine on the Land Cruiser and replaced it with a 5.0-liter stroked to 5.7—”

Illuminated by the headlights of an oncoming car, his profile creased with laughter. “That means that you’re in for a tickle session that’s going to leave you begging for mercy.”

“Over my dead body.”

“No . . . I might take you to the edge, but not over. I won’t let that happen.” He looked at me with amusement mixed with an edge of something I tried hard not to translate.

“You can’t control death—,” I breathed.

“How do you know?” he whispered in a voice I wasn’t sure I recognized. “I’ve defied it once. I can do it again,” he said in a thick Aboriginal accent.

Who the hell was talking to me?

“But it was your own body. We’re talking about mine.” Did I hear him right?

“Luv, do you think it makes any difference?” Controlling the steering wheel with his right hand, he reached over with his left to hold my hand. His voice had reverted to normal.

“I‘ve got a few more hours and I promise, by tomorrow you’ll be part of me. I’ll fill your shadow with the colors of love. So no matter how far you are from me, you’ll only need a bit of Mother Sun to remind you how close I am to you.” His fingers caressed mine, sealing his promise with hot, liquid wax melting drop by drop, heating me up with every single stroke.

My instincts told me we wouldn’t make it past the front door this time, my heart rate agreed, and the rest of my body couldn’t have cared less. It was busy reacting to his scalding touch.

The car felt suddenly too small to accommodate my senses. Expectations mingled with my fears of rushing into something. I was quickly losing my grip on my own fate.

Through my shadowed eyelids I saw the burnished-gold speckles of his eyes focused ahead on the dark road. I shifted my gaze lower, to his strong forearm steady on the steering the wheel. I remembered how it felt to have his hands caress my skin.

Lost in my thoughts, I must have squeezed his hand inadvertently, for he looked over and instantly read me like he had written the words himself. He returned my squeeze and shot me an X-rated grin that left me breathless. I wished the road would never end, and I wished us already there.

G
abe brought the car to a halt in front of his gate.

While we waited for it to open, I needed to remember to breathe. Above us, on a field of velvet darkness, the moon peeked through lingering clouds. Just like me, she had yet to decide whether to show herself off or keep on behind the thin veil. Dreamily, I walked the few steps leading up to the front door. Gabe’s steady hand on my lower back guided me inside where the cozy living room welcomed us. He turned on a couple of lights and headed for the bedroom with my luggage. I started to follow him but thought better of it; I was afraid to face the Aboriginal painting of Creation. Was I ready for my own Dreamtime? To plant a seed and hope it would blossom into the passionate death-defying love I sought? Was I ready to leap and trust the safety net of my magic to be there? To be left alone with my insidious ghosts in the dimly lit living room didn’t agree with me either.

I sat on the soft sofa facing the silent fireplace. Gabe came back and stopped to trace his hand across my shoulder before moving on to build a fire. It didn’t take him long, and soon bright flames echoed our beating hearts. I turned my face toward the dark window and caught my own reflection staring back at me, my eyes absurdly wide, framed by the thick curtain of my dark hair.

I looked afraid. Hell, I felt afraid.

I looked at Gabe’s back and opened my mouth, ready to apologize only to realize I didn’t know what for. I closed my mouth, kicked my boots off, and tucked my legs beneath me. Leaning forward I reached to touch him.

He turned to look at me; his eyes blazed with every shade of sunset, burning with flames trapped behind his eyelashes. In a blink, he was suddenly on the sofa next to me, running his hands along my bare arms. He drew me against him. Brushing a hand on my hair, he settled my head against his steady heart and asked me if I would like to take a bath after such a long and labored day.

“That sounds like a marvelous idea,” I whispered, relaxing against his chest.

“You’re welcome to use either bathtub, but the guest bathroom is more comfortable than mine.”

“What are you going to do while I take a bath?” I asked. I lifted my head and found his chin an irresistible temptation. I began to nibble at it.

“I’m going to shower and then, if you’d care for something to eat, I could fix us a snack.”

“I’m not hungry after our late lunch. How about I meet you back here in a little while?”

“No worries, take your time.”

With effort I raised myself off the sofa and went to grab my overnight bag, thinking that maybe it was a blessing I didn’t have sexy lingerie with me.

Yeah! Like that was going to stop us tonight.

I filled the tub with hot water and added some of my own amber blend. Soon, the entire bathroom steamed in a fragrant cloud. I quickly stripped off my clothes and tied my hair in a high bun. I lowered my body into the hot water. It felt heavenly. I relaxed and exhaled, releasing all the worries roiling in my navel. I closed my eyes and allowed the gentle sloshing of the water to soothe me into a light meditation. Time drifted and I lost track of it.

I finally stirred when the bathwater had cooled down to barely lukewarm. Aware I had gained my confidence and strength back, I briskly dried myself. Surprised at the power I had drawn from the water, I mused with the idea that despite my skepticism, I might be turning into a liquid woman after all.

I wanted to join Gabe as quickly as possible. Someone inside of me had decided to trust him, to accept,
even if only for the moment
. I didn’t think he was Xavier.

Was that an issue? I still felt torn between my soul mate in the abstract ideal and the vibrant man awaiting me in the next room. But I knew I was falling in love, and I wanted to be with him tonight.
No worries. No mental jerking off.

I brushed my hair and slipped into a white ribbed tank top and blue flannel bottoms, and walked back to the living room with my own heartbeat echoing every step I took.

Gabe knelt in front of the fire wearing a pair of flannel shorts that almost matched my pants. I smiled. He heard me and turned, wiping his hands on the shorts.

“Nice pants,” he said, taking in my pajamas. Pointedly, he glanced at his own shorts.

I chuckled. “I guess we just have the same taste in clothes we lounge around in.”

He patted the carpet, inviting me to join him by the fire. I sat cross-legged right in front of him. He took hold of my ankles, spread my feet apart, and pulled me closer. He wrapped my legs around his waist. With his strong hands around my hips, I felt he could snap me in two if he chose.

The fireplace heat warmed my back, slowed my heart, and gave me confidence. I raised my own hands to caress his glowing chest. His skin felt smooth and warm to the touch. I felt the pressure of his hands tightening on my lower back.

I inhaled the need in his stormy eyes like a drug and surrendered to him. Sealing the distance between us, my chest collided with his. His hands slipped under my top, found bare skin, and began working their way up my back.

I lowered my head to meet his mouth. Willingly, I lost reality and cared not to find it ever again. I tightened my legs around his waist and raised my hands to his neck, cupping his jaw to deepen the kiss. I tasted his tongue, his teasing. His hands worked up my ribs, inching toward my pounding heart, and I moaned against his mouth when his thumbs finally brushed the yearning tips of my breasts.

His mouth left mine to work its way down my throat. I slid my eyes open, arching my back as my spine came alive in a current of liquid lust. My hard nipples ached, aroused by his teasing. Skillful fingers weaved my body with threads of rippling pleasure. While his eyes held my lustful gaze, his hands found the edge of my top and slid it above my head. He twisted the material to trap my arms behind my back. He lowered his mouth to nibble at my collarbone.

His hair glowed in the blazing flames, an unruly mess of golden silk I yearned to touch, but my hands were tied behind me. I wriggled to free myself, brushing my breasts against his chest. I moaned in agony and frustration. Spasms of thick, electric pleasure built inside the hard tips of my breasts and shot through my chest, down to my navel, lapped at it, and, with renewed strength, worked through my belly to rush between my legs.

Gabe chuckled softly at my struggles and carefully lowered me onto the rug as I tugged to free my trapped arms. He knelt at my feet and peeled away my pajama bottoms, smiling at the sight of my black lace panties.

I struggled with my trapped elbows trying to set myself free, but he shook his head and stretched his body along mine.

I looked at him. “Free me, Gabe—”

He propped his head on his left elbow and hushed me with a finger on my mouth, his eyes about to unleash a storm.

I couldn’t resist and provoked the gods. I wetted my lips with the tip of my tongue and licked his silencing finger. I opened my lips a bit more and used my teeth to bite, slowly wetting his fingertip with deliberate, light strokes.

Gabe tensed. His eyes shifted to a darker shade of craving. His leg worked its way between mine, suddenly weighing me down. He dropped his head, replacing his wet finger with his eager lips, distracting me from his hand slowly sliding down my throat. His hand made silent love to my breasts, lightly traced my navel, and inched lower. Against my mouth, his tongue flickered, explored, sucked, demanding my undivided attention until I felt his finger slide under my lacy panties, dipping right into my own melting core.

At one single, confident stroke, my head jerked. I bit my lips hard to stifle a scream.

My body twisted like burning wire beneath his intimate strokes. I dug my trapped fingers into the rug, losing all sense of reality.

Slow and light at first, his touch intensified. Unhurriedly rubbing my sensitive fold, he brought me toward the aching edge of climax, only to stop instants before rapture became madness. Need ripened between my taut hips. My arms ached behind my back, and my voice swallowed pleading words he could read as easily in my unfocused, liquid eyes.
Oh!
Dio mio!
What kind of torture was this?

My eyes dropped to his now still hand disappearing under my black panties. The visual image alone of his strong fingers cupping between my legs threw me into another yearning frenzy. I raised my hips to encourage his touch, to demand it. He held still, looking at my face. I held his gaze, licked my lips, and pushed up against his fingers.

Two can play this game.

Or so I wrongly thought.

He drove me crazy with yearning, holding still against my thrusting hips, allowing me to control intensity yet delaying my release. My breath raced, my heart wanted to explode.

Finally, he slowly resumed the stroking to meet my quickening rhythm. His fingers wet, coated with my sexual essence, dipped even deeper, searching for that secret spot . . . and found it. I felt his left arm slide beneath my neck to support my head just before I crashed against the last wave of surging pleasure. Exploding in a rush of ecstasy behind my trembling eyelids, I whispered his name.

*

He reached over to free my arms. His solid chest brushed my pounding heart, and he released me.

I rubbed stiffness off my wrists while Gabe grabbed some pillows from the sofa and looked at me, adjusting a pillow behind my head. “Are your arms OK?” He brushed a wandering lock of hair off my moist forehead.

It took me a second to cast myself out there to find my voice. I nodded. “Yes,” I managed to whisper.

He knelt by my legs. With one questioning look he placed his hands on my hips, awaiting permission. I held no resistance. I looked at him, wordlessly lifting my hips.

He cracked a sensuous grin that held forbidden promises. “You’re absolutely stunning, Porzia.” Hunger, passion, and tenderness deepened his voice. “I don’t want to do anything that you might have second thoughts about,” he whispered, caressing my legs, pulling my panties down.

I raised myself on my elbows and looked at him, my love spilling out, reaching.
Beautiful, incredibly beautiful. Surreal.
“Do you want me?” I curled a finger over the elastic band of his shorts.

“More than life itself, luv,” he answered, covering my hand with his.

“I want you too.” So badly I couldn’t think straight.

I helped him slide off his shorts and leaned back against the soft rug, adjusting my head on the pillow. I parted my legs to welcome him.

His breath brushed against my skin, his eyes ate me up, his scorching fingers branded my thighs when he lifted me up to meet him. The moment swept me off into a delirious, delicious spiraling of senses. I felt him ready, hard against my soft moistness.

He entered me, inch by inch, stretching me, filling me up, until my yearning became intense heat. Pulsing pleasure soared us to where nothing else mattered but fulfillment. Physical boundaries vanished. Our tangled bodies throbbed in unison, releasing an intensely intoxicating scent. It coated us in a sexual aura that fed us with each breath, each pang of pleasure that drummed out of us.

Wanting more, I raised my hands up to his neck and brought him down to me. I wanted to kiss him.

He held his head just inches away from my mouth, slowly sliding out of me, slowly thrusting back in, teasing me. I drowned in a pool of thick, undiluted lust.

He kept up his teasing rhythm, his mouth lingering over mine, his eyes intent on capturing every shade of pleasure my face reflected, feeding off the ecstasy he himself was conjuring.

I was soon ready to burst. “Please—” I begged, wrapping my legs around his, throwing my head back in total surrender.

He felt my hips tense against the built up reef, a helpless sea creature crashing with the surging tide. He lowered his mouth to mine, cupping my buttocks with his strong hands. With a few everlasting, hard strokes he drove us both over the edge, spilling release like scorching lava. Intense pleasure radiated from within, supporting our fall until he finally collapsed on me, heart against heart, still kissing me, still holding me.

We lay there, our glowing, entwined bodies warmer than the fire’s embers. The soothing rhythm of our slowing heartbeats gently lulled us back to this side of life, a warm breeze supporting a dancing, descending feather.

*

I must have fallen asleep in Gabe’s arms, for only vaguely did I remember him carrying me into the bedroom.

I woke up in his bed to my last morning with him. Our lovemaking lingered, still-wet tempera tenderly painted across my aching body. The memory of my intense pleasure churned in my stomach, wrestling with the rising dread of my imminent departure.

Merda!
Talk about sweet and sour.
I didn’t want this to end so soon. I opened my eyes and took a second to adjust to the outside brightness invading the room. The insensible day sang loudly, sunny and bright, oblivious to my despair and miserable mood. I wished for a slingshot to deflate the sun to my sullen, gloomy level, to drag humankind down with me. I looked at Gabe asleep next to me and traded the slingshot for a Patriot missile. My sense of helpless rage rose dangerously the more I thought about the unfairness of the situation.

He looked so incredibly handsome wrapped in the safe embrace of sleep. Some people look more vulnerable when asleep. Gabe didn’t. He still retained that strong masculine energy that so attracted me to him, as if even in his sleep the gods respected and acknowledged him as kin.

I wondered about his scarred back.
How long did he take to heal? Were there more scars?
The invisible ones were the ones I worried about. I had the feeling that just like mine, his healing wasn’t quite over yet, and at the same time, a thin thread—a life connection—kept him in touch with whoever or whatever energies were responsible for saving his life. I could feel it threading just beneath his skin, like crystal water rippling through a rocky riverbed, following its course from source to ocean.