Page 31 of Veiled Fantasies

He didn’t get it.

In every superficial way, this was just like all the impersonal encounters of the past few years. The same type of hotel room, the same neutral tones, the same impersonal art on the walls. A virtual stranger in his arms.

So why did it feel so startlingly fresh?

Usually, the pleasure was fleeting, quickly replaced by the inconvenience of sharing a bed, but this time, he was all warm and fuzzy. He’d even slept straight through to—what time was it? A faint call to prayer warbled outside. 5:00 a.m. He’d slept like a baby, despite having had Martin on his mind. Not only that, but it was him holding her tight, not wanting to let go.

Jill. She was so different.

Most women looked at him like they were trying to gauge one of three things: his earning potential, the length of his rod, or the quality of his sperm. All his sexual encounters of the past few years started and ended the same way—with a perfunctory introduction, a quick romp and roll, an empty kiss and a hasty goodbye. The void never quite went away. It just slipped into the background for a while.

Even if he thought back to Anna, she didn’t match up to Jill. Sure, Anna was in her own class from a fairy tale time that had long ceased to exist, back when he believed in the good in the world. They’d grown up together, had all the same friends. But that was the thing. There was nothing in Anna for him to discover. No surprises. She had always followed his lead, even in bed. Anna was sweet and giving, but she wasn’t her own person. She was his.

Until, of course, she’d moved on to being someone else’s.

Jill was different from all of them, in every way. She’d flown straight in under his radar. She hadn’t sought him out. It just happened. He never got the feeling that she was weighing him up for her own purposes, just that she was trying to understand him the way she was trying to understand Dubai. And her agenda? Just to get by in this crazy situation.

She was genuine and independent. A fresh breeze. She cared enough to risk putting herself on the street for a family she barely knew. She was sensual, too. Her lips, her touch, all impossibly right, like she’d dug out the Erik manual and knew just how to please him. Her legs—those legs! Sinewy, long and strong, they held him snug, teasing over his own.

Maybe that was it. It was just really, really good sex.

That good?Good enough to have him waking up, thinking he was back home? Not home to the echoing apartment where his mail piled up but a place from long before that. Before Anna, before growing up. All the way back, like any minute his brother would be dangling upside down from the top bunk and rousing Erik for a new adventure. One he couldn’t wait to be part of.

He was going all fuzzy. Must be the jet lag. Or the work was getting to him. Why else would he have told her things he never talked about, not even to himself? But somehow, that had felt good, too.

He curled around Jill, pulling her tight and knitting his fingers through hers. Her heart was a metronome, setting a steady beat for his to follow. It was hard to tell where she stopped and he started. He didn’t want to judge the boundaries, not right now. He let himself drift away, settling back into the peaceful hibernation he’d found. Telling himself nothing mattered but now.

* * *

Jill woke up slowly, luxuriously. Not at all surprised to find Erik wrapped around her because it felt like they’d been curled together forever. Like they belonged that way.

Air conditioning chilled the room–all the better to snuggle and bask in each other’s warmth. When Erik stirred, she stayed very still, half expecting him to give her a quick peck on the cheek and get on with his day. The man had things to do, after all. He was probably just stuck in that cozy position from sheer exhaustion, a week of hard work catching up to him.

She steeled herself for an awkward morning.

But when his kissed her, it wasn’t a peck, and it wasn’t quick. He brushed the hair off her shoulder and arranged it behind her ear. His hands explored her sides in long, slow strokes, visiting the same spots like a sculptor studying his model.

She turned to find his brow smooth, cheeks loose, totally at rest. Everything but his dancing eyes, making her insides melt into a sloshy puddle. Damn, did it feel good to see him like that. Happy and naked. Just like her.

She took a deep breath, but it was too late.

Making love that morning was akin to a drawn-out, soul-nourishing stretch for two, a sun salutation with a whole new set of moves. Instinctual, intimate moves. When they both came, it was not so much an explosion, but a force that drew in, pulling them together, so close, so sweet, so filling.

Maybe it was the Swedish thing. They must have lots of cold winter mornings when the sun wasn’t quite up, with nothing to rush to but each other. She could bundle herself in and stay there a long, long time. She imagined them on just such a morning, waking up to a hushed, snowy landscape. Maybe he had a cabin somewhere. Maybe near a lake. A forest. Maybe…

Maybe she needed to get real.

It just wouldn’t work. It couldn’t.

She burrowed closer to him.Let go. Let go of all that. Enjoy the now. Enjoy wanting and being wanted, quenching the thirst as it came.

Her eyes focused and found him studying her face, one finger tracing her lips. Only hours ago she’d been almost too shy to look at him, and now they were skin to skin. The realization set her whole body a-tingle. Minutes ticked by like luscious hours as she drank him in.

“Good morning,” Erik rumbled.

“Morning,” she murmured, right into his lips. It ended with a sigh as she settled back into his chest, where a quiet, comfortable minute passed.

“Can I just say that I’m usually not so…brazen?” she said, peeking up for his reaction. An arched eyebrow. “You know the word brazen?”

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