“I found out what my personal gateway to heaven would be last night, Megan. And I felt like I’d failed my test of character miserably.”
The uncertainty in his eyes made her ache. She shook her head rapidly. “There was no test, Christian. But even if there was, you were so, so far from failing it.” She glanced down at his bared torso. “Are you sure that no one can see us out here?”
“I’m sure,” he said gruffly.
Megan placed her feet at the side of the lounger and stood over him while she impatiently unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them over his hips. Christian helped her by lifting his pelvis. He was still peeling them off his feet and ankles when Megan straddled him again.
The night enveloped them in a sultry embrace as she took Christian in her hand and began to pet him, stroke him, and tease him into a thick arousal. She loved the feel of him, like smooth silk pulled tightly over steel. She knelt between his thighs and brushed her tongue curiously over the engorged tip of him. Ch
ristian’s head snapped back against the lounger.
“Holy…ah, sweet…Megan,” he muttered incoherently.
She raised herself over him a while later and took him slowly, deeply into her body.
His smile struck her as sublime.
“Always the teacher, aren’t you?” Christian muttered thickly.
“You’re an especially stubborn student. How many times will it take before you know how much I love this…how much I love you,” Megan whispered softly next to his lips.
Than she began to rock him, and she thought Christian had finally learned his lesson.
* * * * *
They took a slow, sensual shower together afterward and returned to bed. With her prompting, Christian was talking about his career with Lasher Down. They were on their sides facing each other as Christian played idly with her curls.
“I really liked your performance the other night. I never got a chance to tell you,” Megan said quietly after a while.
Christian’s toying fingers paused. “You did?”
She nodded. “I still can’t believe how talented you are. Why are you surprised I liked Lasher Down?”
He shrugged uncomfortably. “It’s hard rock. Not your style. Besides, I was practically a kid when I wrote most of that music. I don’t really identify with it much anymore.”
Megan stroked the dense muscle of his upper arm with appreciative fingertips. “It’s still good, Christian. And part of who you are. I want to hear all of your past recordings.”
He shook his head slightly as if he couldn’t believe it, but smiled. Neither of them spoke for several seconds.
“Christian?”
“Hmm?” he asked, seeming distracted as he watching her stroking fingertips on his skin.
“That song you sang the other night…you wrote that about your wife, didn’t you?”
He met her gaze. “Yes.”
“I thought so,” she murmured quietly. She glanced away.
“Christian?”
“Yes?”
“Are you still in love with Cecilia?” she asked quietly.
He reached under her chin and tipped her face up to meet his gaze. “She died five years ago, Megan. I did love her. And I was very…conflicted about her death.” He paused, thoughtfully. “But somehow, it doesn’t hurt anymore when I think about her. I’m starting to remember her more clearly when she was healthy and happy than I do when she was sick, and depressed, and…dying.”
“She was depressed in the end?”