Just Trust Me…

The rest of the campers slowly exited their tents, all anxious for coffee. While they enjoyed their breakfast, Paolo filled them in on some of Machu Picchu’s history.

“The legendary lost city of the Incas was rediscovered in 1911 by an American team of archaeologists from Yale University led by Hiram Bingham. Of course, like most men, Mr. Bingham didn’t ask for directions and was actually looking for Vilcabamba, a stronghold of the Inca rebels, when he discovered Machu Picchu, and was convinced he’d been successful.

“Since the Incas didn’t leave written records, Machu Picchu remains shrouded in mystery. Some believe it was a sanctuary inhabited by high priests, others feel it was used for astronomical studies. Other theories include agricultural site and citadel. Or perhaps it is a combination of all or some of those. Most mysterious of all is that in spite of the exceedingly fine construction and architecture, Machu Picchu was built, inhabited and abandoned all in the span of less than a century-a tiny blip in time considering the four-thousand-year history of Peru. Today scholars still ask why?”

Paolo sipped his coffee, then continued, “Some suggest it was the result of wars between rival Inca tribes resulting in the mass execution of the entire community. Or perhaps it was a plague. Given the site’s pristine condition, scholars agree that it is unlikely that the Spanish conquistadors ever found Machu Picchu during their invasions as they made no mention of it in their meticulous chronicles.”

After finishing their meal, the group packed up their belongings and set out on the final leg of their journey, which, they found thankfully, was shorter and not as strenuous as the previous days’ hikes. They followed a broad, level path which wound gently through light woodland, the air cool and still. With the first streaks of light in the sky, their walkway was dappled with color from scores of butterflies flitting across the trail.

They arrived at Intipunku, the Sun Gate, a short time later. After a final, thigh-murdering, fifty-step, nearly vertical climb that left them all gasping, suddenly the whole of Machu Picchu was spread before them, in all its enigmatic glory, captured in the glowing splendor of the golden rays of the sunrise.

Brett stared at the fantastic sight, at the incredible series of terraces and buildings nestled amongst the verdant landscape, and he felt as if he’d stepped back in time. He reached out and entwined his fingers with Kayla’s.

She gently squeezed his hand, then whispered, “It’s even more impressive than I’d envisioned. I’m almost expecting an ancient Inca warrior wearing full ceremonial dress to step from an archway.”

They spent the day exploring the ruins, from the Temple of the Sun with its extraordinary stonework which fitted together seamlessly, an incomprehensible achievement for a people who had neither a written language nor the wheel, to the Temple of the Moon, a place of mysterious caverns with a carved throne and altar.

Hours later, as the sun disappeared behind the snowcapped peaks in the distance, the group headed toward the guard post where they would exit. Everyone except Brett and Kayla, who were spending the night at the Sanctuary Lodge, were heading to the train station in nearby Aguas Calientes to travel back to Cusco. Once outside the gate, there was a hasty exchange of e-mail addresses along with promises to keep in touch and e-mail photos. Then hugs and handshakes all around as the people who had come to mean so much to Brett over such a short period of time departed and went on with their lives, filling him with sorrow that he wouldn’t be seeing them again tomorrow. Their adventure together was over.

But speaking of people who’d come to mean a lot to him in a short period of time…

His gaze settled on Kayla and when she looked at him, her bottom lip trembled.

“I’m going to miss them,” she said with a catch in her voice.

He drew her into his arms and she rested her forehead against his chest. “Me, too. But hey, I’m glad that at least I won’t have to miss you. Pretty great that we live in the same city.”

A strangled sound came from her. Burying her face against his neck, her shoulders shook and she sobbed as if her heart were breaking.

Not certain how to comfort her, he just held her, brushing his lips over her temple, murmuring reassurances that everything would be fine, that they’d keep in touch with everyone, and waited for the storm to pass.

When it seemed the worst was over, he pulled a hanky from his jeans’ pocket and handed it to her. “Don’t worry-it’s a clean one,” he said with a smile.

She looked up at him, her green eyes wet with tears, her lashes spiky, and whatever small part of his heart might have remained his own, he lost with that single look.

“I’m sorry,” she said, after giving her nose a lusty blow.

“No problem.” He chucked her gently under the chin and grinned. “But I’ve gotta tell ya, for a woman who claimed she wasn’t a weepy female, you sure do cry a lot. And it is not easy on a guy’s nerves.”

“Or his hankies,” she said with a wobbly smile.

“I have plenty.” He cradled her tearstained face between his hands and brushed at the wetness lingering on her cheeks with his thumbs. “Feel better?”

For several long seconds she simply looked at him with an unreadable expression and he wished like hell he knew what she was thinking.

Finally she jerked her head in a nod. “Better.” Then she grimaced. “But I know for sure I’m not looking better. I must be a total mess.”

“You look beautiful.”

A watery laugh huffed from her lips. “That’s very sweet, but I know what I look like when I cry. Blotchy skin, red nose, swollen eyes. It ain’t pretty.”

“You’re right. It’s beautiful.” He leaned down and lightly kissed her lips. “I can’t wait to get you alone in our hotel room so I can show you just how beautiful.”

Another huff of laughter. “I’m hideous. With the way I look, you cannot possibly be turned on.”

“Yet this,” he lightly bumped her with the obvious bulge in his jeans, “suggests I am.”

“Good heavens.” She swiped beneath her eyes with the hanky again. “Are you always this horny?”

His gaze rested on hers, all vestiges of amusement gone, and he shook his head. “No. Just with you. Only you.”

Her lips trembled and with no small amount of alarm he saw her eyes puddling up again. “Okay, that’s it for you, Miss Waterworks. I’m getting you to the hotel. Now. Before I have to dig another hanky out of my backpack.”

Thirty minutes later they walked down the hallway toward their room at the Machu Picchu Sanctuary Lodge, the hotel perched right next to the ruins. Kayla had had her own room reserved, but they’d cancelled the reservation when checking in as they only needed one. And by God, he couldn’t wait much longer to get to it. And judging by the way she rubbed herself against him while he tried to unlock the damn door, neither could she.

When he finally closed the door behind them, they dropped their backpacks and fell on each other as if they were starved and had suddenly been offered a feast.

“Hope your heart isn’t set on slow and easy.” He yanked her sweatshirt over her head with a lack of finesse that probably should have appalled him.

“Do I look like I want slow and easy?” she asked, jerking his T-shirt from his jeans with the same haste he’d exhibited. With her eyes, darkened with arousal, steady on his, she flicked open the button on his jeans then lowered the zipper. Wrapping her fingers around his straining erection, she said, “This morning you told me to ‘hold that thought’ and I’ve held it all day. Now I want to see what you intend to do about it. And I want to see it hard and fast. Any complaints?”

“Hell, no.” Nothing not to love about a woman who wasn’t afraid to ask for what she wanted. And even better when he wanted the same thing.

Amidst much kissing and panting and groping and laughing and digging through backpacks for condoms, they tugged off boots and jeans and underwear then tumbled onto the bed. Settling himself between her splayed thighs, he wasted no time giving her what she wanted, what they both wanted-hard and fast. After a wild, furious ride that left them spent, he lifted her arms above her head, entwined their fingers, and looked into her slumberous eyes. And saw everything he’d ever wanted.

“You do hard and fast very well,” she murmured.

“So do you. For my encore performance, how do you feel about sharing a nice, hot bath in our very own indoor bathroom?”

Her eyes widened. “The fact that you made me forget, for even one second, let alone long enough to make