LOVE QUAKES: BOXED SET (BOOKS 1-4) (5 page)

“Well, I’m not put off of all men. But, maybe we should get some sleep,” I suggest and realize that I’m exhausted. The aftershocks continue to rumble. I show Tristan how to manipulate the self-inflating mattress and we each move toward our opposite corners of the elevator. He helps me carry my pillow and warm blanket to the bed. Then he carefully arranges my blanket over my body as I sink down on my spot and he pats my head. We’re both hands off, after my story.

“Goodnight, Joanna, sleep well. Tomorrow we’ll be free again,” he says in a soothing tone of voice.

“Yeah, I hope so. Goodnight, Tristan,” I whisper with tears in my eyes. Then I fall into a deep state of exhaustion.

 It’s sometime in the middle of the night, when I’m awakened by a strange sound. They’re the gasps of someone struggling to breathe. It’s someone having a frightful nightmare. I sit straight up and realize that the heavy breathing and thrashing sounds are still coming from the corner of the elevator. Tristan suffers through a night terror. His arms and body are flailing about. I crawl over to where he’s struggling and coo softly in his ear.

“It’s alright, Tristan. You’re safe, you’re here with Joanna,” I chant over and over again. “It’s OK, calm down.” When his movements stop, I place my hand on his head. It’s covered with sweat. Then I put my hand on his arm. That seems to soothe him within seconds. I already know how much he likes my reassuring touch, so I decide to pet him. He settles into a deep sleep after I touch him for a while.

Then, I decide to move my make shift bed next to his. If he has another nightmare, I want to hold him. He seems to need reassurance from my touch. I fall asleep again while our elevator shakes from another quake. Sometime during the night, Tristan pulls me into his arms. I awaken with Tristan Grant’s body wrapped around mine. He has the most peaceful look on his face and he’s sleeping soundly. It feels absolutely wonderful.

It feels so soothing to awaken in the arms of this gorgeous man. He’s the first guy to get my hormones sparking, ever. Why do I have to lust after someone who’s nearly impossible to catch? Or, is he? Tristan has issues, terrifying issues, apparently. Hopefully, we can explore them, once he wakes up.

I’m more than curious now; call it obsessed, about his childhood. I take one long last look at his beautifully sculpted face before I move to answer Mother Nature’s call. I want to kiss those amazing lips again, after he’s used mouthwash.

As soon as I squirm, Tristan opens his eyes and becomes aware of our proximity. A sexy, megawatt smile dominates his face. He’s a happy man today. I think he likes me, a lot.

“I haven’t slept this well or late for a long time. It must be the contact with your body, Joanna,” he exclaims while hugging me close. “I see you decided to join me overnight. What changed your mind? Were you cold?” He rubs my arm as if to massage me. 

He’s not aware that he had a nightmare. I wonder if he’s used to these events. If so, he’s haunted by some serious psychological demons. Hmmm. I shift to face him. I hate to break the news to him and change his mood.

“You were thrashing around with a bad dream,” I begin tentatively, “and I came over to calm you down. I didn’t want the elevator to get unstuck due to your moves,” I joke, to lighten the mood.

Tristan’s face falls and his look darkens, “Was it that bad? I’m sorry if I disturbed your sleep, Joanna,” he apologizes sincerely.

“I’m glad I was able to calm you down, Tristan. You sounded as though you could hardly breathe,” I explain with kindness.

“Thanks, Joanna. Whatever you did to settle me down, worked, really well. That’s a breakthrough!” he admits with some discomfort and then kisses my cheek with gratitude. I feel the area near my vagina clinch with desire. It’s time for me to use the toilet bag.

I smile with delight as I slip out of his arms and head toward the privy. He looks disappointed. “I’ll be back soon,” I promise to soothe him. He gives me a dazzling smile.

Once inside the toilet area, I take my time going through my morning rituals of urinating, combing my hair, wiping off my face with a Purell sheet and using a toothbrush. I need to change into the jeans, top and new underwear sent by the rescue crew but that can wait until Tristan’s in the stall. When I leave our bathroom a few minutes later, Tristan’s already texting and using his IPhone.

“Your turn,” I announce with a grin as I pull the curtain back and remove my used toilet bag. He looks at me with real appreciation. Does he like what he sees? I feel so much better now that I’ve cleaned up a bit. He throws his covers off and stands up. I can see evidence of his morning wood through his sweats. Tristan looks good enough to jump. I look away with difficulty as he makes his way inside the curtain.

While Tristan attends to his business, I slip out of my socks and sweats and into my new clothes. They fit so well and feel expensive. I’m impressed. Then, I roll our beds up and fold everything into two neat piles. I hear the tap of our cable on the ceiling of the elevator and guess that our bagged breakfasts are here at last.

I retrieve them along with a container of juice and two thermoses of hot liquid. One is filled with coffee while the other contains hot water for tea. A bag of tea has been taped to its side. I love my herbal tea in the morning. I may give the crew a tip as well. I set up our food in the corner furthest from the bathroom. This is as good as it gets – given the circumstances.

Tristan emerges wearing jeans and a tight white t-shirt. He’s looking refreshed and gorgeous. His sandy hair is tousled but his green eyes are radiant. He’d make a good addition to my breakfast, as a pastry. He plops both our toilet bags into the cable’s basket and signals the crew to take them away. Then, he ambles over to the breakfast spread that I’ve arranged.

“Joanna, you’re looking very rested and lovely this morning,” he gushes while squatting down to eat. “What’s on the menu?” I wink at him and smile.

“You have your choice of either a bagged omelet with veggies or the same omelet, with ham,” I announce while mimicking the tone of a flight attendant and pointing to each bag. I give him an innocent look. He chuckles.

“I’ll take the ham omelet, if you don’t mind,” he states decisively. We both scoop the food from our bags and eat without speaking for a few minutes. I pass Tristan his thermos of coffee and soak my tea bag in hot water for a bit. We’re camping out, in an elevator. I’m ready to talk, once my omelet has been eaten and I’m drinking my cup of tea. We’re both sitting on our bedding.

“I’d like to kiss the rescue crew working above us. They’ve done so much to make us comfortable,” I gush enthusiastically.

“There’ll be no kissing involved, Joanna, at least between you and the rescue crew,” he commands with a smirk. “The reason they’re so thorough is that I’ve been texting them detailed instructions about what we want and need. And, don’t worry; I’m paying them well for their efforts.”

“Then, maybe it’s you that should be thanked with a kiss,” I venture and hope it’s what he wants to hear. Tristan immediately leans his face toward mine. I take my time planting a gentle but firm kiss on his forehead and then make my way to his mouth and give him a passionate and long taste before pushing back.

His megawatt smile makes a second appearance this morning. “Your kiss is so delightful, Joanna, and very much appreciated.” I look into his face with satisfaction. His aqua eyes reflect growing desire. It’s time to slow things down again.

“Since you’ve been on the IPhone with the crew, is there any news about when it’ll be safe to move us to higher ground?” I ask with hope.

“The latest quakes are coming in around a 4.0. I’d guess they’ll haul us out of here in a few hours,” he assures me with a confident smile. “Does that make you happy?”

“Well, I’ve really enjoyed our little camping trip. But, it’ll be great to return to campus and finish my final exams, graduate, and then move to my new condo. My life is changing so quickly now, it’s making my head spin. Everything’s been very predictable for the past four years.”

“I’ve a feeling that your new life in Mission Beach will be even more head-spinning in the months to come,” he states cryptically. He looks at me with longing for a full beat before breaking eye contact.

“What do you mean by that?” I ask bravely. “Please, Tristan.”

He seems to be a bit flustered when he responds with a wave of his hand, “It’s just that you’ll start a new career, make new friends, and have new experiences, as a new adult.”

“I, for one, can’t wait to move ahead with my career. I’m so tired of taking classes, writing papers, and working at a dead-end part-time job,” I admit and sound more exasperated than I intended.

“Joanna, I’m envious of you. My world consists of the same old analyses of therapeutic outcomes and bottom line profit indicators,” he admits with some frustration.

I smirk and shake my head, “Yeah, but look what it gets you,” I indicate while I gesture around the space with my hand. I’m thinking of this beautiful building and his economic success.

He laughs without mirth, “Hmmm, trapped in the elevator of a badly damaged skyscraper. Of course meeting you, Joanna; it’s been more than worthwhile.” His eyes fill with an unnamed emotion as he looks directly into my face. This is getting serious, very quickly.

I stare into his wondrous eyes and then ask my burning question. “So you’d like to see me again, after we leave this tight space?” I’m feeling bold, given his behavior toward me over the past 24 hours.

“You know I’ve made that rather clear with my comments and actions over the past several hours, Joanna,” he states with a look of desire and longing oozing from every pore of his body. His breathing sounds heavy already.

“Why would someone like you want a relationship with a naïve college graduate like me?” I ask while my heart beats out of my chest. It’s a showdown at the OK Corral now. There’s nothing to lose at this juncture. I decide to lay my cards on the table.

He huffs out a sigh before speaking. “First and foremost, I find myself drawn to you like no one else. You’re incredibly attractive, innocent, bright, fresh and soothing. When I woke with you wrapped in my arms this morning, I felt wonderful. I can’t remember ever being so refreshed after sleeping.”

I’m stunned at Tristan’s confession. “That’s quite a revelation, after knowing me for such a short time,” I state emphatically, “although I feel drawn to you in the same way.”

He snorts and makes a face. “I’m certainly not innocent, bright and fresh, Joanna. But, I’m thrilled to hear that you’re attracted to me enough to see me again.” He pauses before his next confession, “When I heard your story about your feelings toward your stepfather, I was upset; thought you’d want nothing to do with me.” He adds with a sad look in his eyes.

“Why? Are you perverted?” I joke and then notice that his expression changes into a scowl.

“I have a dark side, Joanna,” he confides with a mysterious grin.

I’m not sure where to take our conversation but I must know more about his issues. I’ve agreed to see him after we leave this elevator, after all. “Is your dark side related to the nightmares you have?” I’m holding my breath as I ask my question.

“At least in part, yes,” he admits. He waits for me to ask more questions. I guess Tristan’s not giving anything away on this topic.

“Do you remember what you dreamed about last night? Why were you having a nightmare?” I push for more and hope he doesn’t shut the door.

Tristan’s face takes on a faraway look as he calls the images to mind. “It’s the same nightmare that haunts all of my dreams. There’s a big vehicle and it’s shaped like a bus, not a car, with a strange looking man inside. He’s pulling me into it and I’m trying to resist. The awful man shouts insults at me and curses before he gets me inside and drives away.” When he finishes describing the scenario, he looks at me with a lost look on his face.

“Do you have any idea who this man is? Is he real?”

“Yeah, Joanna, I know who he is. He’s real,” he reveals with a crestfallen gesture to his mouth, “and he’s the reason, among others, that I’ve spent many years in psychotherapy. He abducted me from my happy family. I can’t recall much after that except for some punishment. It was awful.” Now I can guess why Tristan’s haunted by night terrors. Abducted from his upper middle class home and tortured, at the age of five.

I move to Tristan’s side and kiss his head. He relaxes almost immediately. “I’m so sorry,” I coo into his ear while patting his arm. “I wish I could make it better.”

“You’ve already made it better, Joanna,” he responds while pulling me onto his lap and holding me tight. I put my arms around him and pat his back. That seems to soothe him instantly. We sit for several moments in our cocoon.

“I’ve no idea about most of what happened while I was missing, just the person who took me. Thus, we both have something in common with men who caused us trauma,” he says with resentment, “and adults who couldn’t or wouldn’t protect us from them.” I shake my head with understanding. It feels so right to commiserate with Tristan.

I pull Tristan into my arms and spend several minutes making out with him again. My tongue eagerly makes contact with his and the sparks between us sizzle. I want to soothe him. This time I pet his neck and chest while holding him impossibly close. His tongue probes my mouth with need as his hands rub my back.