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Bryce stepped into the steaming shower and let the water wash away the scents from the airplane. Last night, they'd had one more flight from Lima to Cusco, then they'd gone straight to sleep in their hotel room in Cusco.
Unfortunately, Bryce had been a gentleman and let Margot have the bed while he took the floor. He was sure that some people might be able to share a bed without messing around, but he knew if he was any closer to Margot, he would've been spooning her and sliding down the straps of her little sleep camisole. Then he would kiss the smooth valley where her shoulder met her neck. She'd moan and wriggle back against him, and he'd slide off her cute little pink and white striped sleep shorts and cup her bare pussy with his hand.
His dick was hard and insistent, so he took it in his hand and stroked while he thought of Margot. She'd still been sleeping when he got up. As the shower water pounded over his shoulders, he imagined going back into the room and climbing under the covers with her, fulfilling his fantasy. He thought about the way she'd arch beneath him, and how he'd ask her to touch herself in time with his strokes. He thought of her face twisting with pleasure, and he wondered if she'd close her eyes while she came, or if those dark blue eyes would be locked on his when she went over the edge of ecstasy.
He wanted her eyes open. He wanted to see her pupils large with lust, he wanted to see every flutter of her lashes, and he wanted to see every unsaid word.
With just the thought of her eyes locked on his, the pressure built up in his lower spine and he felt his orgasm gathering strength. He came, jets of white mingling with the warm shower water.
He rested his head against the tile wall for a moment, then turned off the water and dried himself off. He'd brought his change of clothes to the bathroom with him, so he got dressed and then stepped back into the bedroom.
The room was simple—a thin carpet, a double bed, two nightstands, and a dresser. A small television that looked like it had time-traveled from 1999 rested on the dresser, and a framed print of Machu Picchu hung on the wall above it. None of those things claimed his attention like Margot, though. She sat slightly up in bed, her cheeks pink and a guilty expression on her face.
The room smelled like a woman's desire. Bryce's dick jumped to attention again.
"What's going on?" he asked, intrigued.
"Nothing," she said.
Not exactly a lie, although it would've been difficult to smell dishonesty amid the beautiful, cock-hardening scent of feminine arousal.
"What was happening in here while I was in the shower?" he asked.
She shook her head, her cheeks pink.
He felt bad for embarrassing her, but it would've been weird to not say anything, too. He said, "Well, I just jacked off in the shower, and it was pretty nice. I thought about you."
She stared at him, and the flush on her cheeks spread down to her neck. Was she still turned on? Did she want him, like he wanted her?
Prowling closer to the edge of the bed, he paused. She gazed at him with those dark blue eyes, same way he'd pictured them when he came. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to do.
Instead, he bent to pick his backpack up from the floor. He shoved in his dirty clothes, then zipped it up. Fuck, it was all he could do to resist reaching for her, tugging her close to his body, kissing her like they'd kissed at her bakery. The bakery, where he'd asked if she was in love with his brother.
The question he hadn't asked was whether Nolan was in love with her. But would it matter if he was? Maybe not.
He was thinking too much. He wanted her, she wanted him. Nolan didn't have a place in that equation.
"You know," he said, trying to sound casual, "we could get off together sometime, instead of alone. What do you think about that?"
She blinked and her mouth fell open. "I—I think you're crazy."
He grinned. She wanted him just as bad as he wanted her—he could tell from her dilated pupils, the way she'd watched him when he bent over to grab his backpack. "If you say so. I'll be downstairs getting some breakfast. Take your time up here with...whatever you're up to, but remember our bus leaves at nine."
She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him, but she didn't have a response.
Holding back the goofy happiness he felt, he grabbed his backpack and left the room.
*
ON THE BUS, MARGOT was a lot more composed than she'd been in the hotel room, and Bryce regretted the change. He'd liked the pink on her face when she was flustered, and her scent—her violet, feminine scent—had damn near driven him wild.
A man at the front of the bus pointed out sites as they drove past. Bryce got a brief glimpse of a Spanish cathedral that had been built on top of Incan ruins. Bryce and Margot gaped at the way the crisp, evenly cut dark stones had been melded over the ancient Incan construction with its uneven, but beautiful stone placement.
"There's a place nearby called Sacsayhuamán," Margot said, pointing it out in her guidebook. "I wish there was time to see it."
“Sock-say-what?”
“Sock-say-wa-mon,” she said, more slowly, underlining the pronunciation tutorial on the page.
Bryce looked at the images in the guidebook. Giant gray boulders, many of them taller than people, had been placed in large wall formations. "Humans couldn't have moved those stones," Bryce said.
"Maybe they were put here by shifters," Margot mused. "Or we're not giving the Incans enough credit for how freaking smart they were. Look at these terraces, I mean, they were advanced. If we were here traveling for fun, I'd want to see that place."
Bryce made a low sound in his throat, wishing he could take her there. His grizzly wanted one thing only—and that was to make Margot happy.
*
ONCE THEY WERE ON THE train from Ollantaytambo to Aguas Calientes, they had a little more space for their legs and more privacy to talk.
"I haven't smelled any other shifters since getting off the airplane," Margot said in a quiet voice. "Have you?"
"No," he said. "Just you."
She blushed again, probably remembering how he'd walked in either during or right after she'd gotten herself off. He would've given anything to have been in the room with her, watching. What movements did she like to use? Did she moan, or gasp? In his dreams, she always moaned and flung back her head, but he wanted the real thing—the real Margot.
"Did you mean what you said?" she asked, her voice half-joking, half-serious.
"About what?"
She pursed her lips, as if rethinking her question. "About jacking off in the shower. You did it and thought about me?"
"Fuck yeah, babe," he said in a low voice. "I've been dreaming of you all week—longer than that, I think—and—"
"Wait," she said. "Dreaming of me?"
"Yeah." He nudged her shoulder with his, craving any kind of contact, however brief. "Let me tell you, you're quite the little freak."
"Shut up," she said, blushing again. "It's just weird, because...I've been dreaming of you, too."
"Really?" He purposefully raised an eyebrow. "Do tell me about these dreams."
"Nope." She pulled out the guidebook from her backpack and opened it up. "No way."
"One little detail," he said. "Please?"
The scent of her desire filled his nose once more, and he had to resist the urge to kiss and bite her neck, right there above the collar of her shirt where some blond strands had fallen from her messy bun.
"Fine," she said, and now her voice was slightly breathy. "In my dreams, you tell me what to do."
He could only stare at her. "That's—that's what I dream, too."
This was the last thing he'd expected. He knew it was possible, people sharing dreams. His dad had told him all about it, but they hadn't thought Bryce had the ability. And Bryce hadn't had a reason to try it out. Until, apparently, he'd first spoken with Margot.
She gave him a doubtful look.
"Really," he said. "The other night, we were at the Circle, and you were up against one of the trees. You told me you wanted me to tell you what to do. And you said I could watch."
"I don't—this doesn't make sense." Her cheeks were a delicious shade of pink. She closed the guidebook but didn't move to put it away. "It's not possible."
"My dad was a dream-walker," Bryce said, so quietly that he was surprised when Margot responded.
"A dream-walker?"
"Yeah," he said. "I knew I could do weird things with my dreams, but I've only ever run in the woods as my bear. I've never interacted with anyone before."
"Did you do it on purpose?" she asked.
He shrugged. "Sort of. I mean, I wanted to talk to you more, after you called me with Nolan's phone. So maybe you were on my mind that first time. I knew I could control my own dreams, so after that, sometimes I'd wish I could see you again. And it happened every time."
The words dried up in his throat. He'd told her to do stuff. He'd commanded her, even when she'd seemed shy or reluctant. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Had he hurt her? Had he raped her? Beautiful greenery whipped past, the mountains on either side of the Urubamba Valley rising up like magical and ancient giants.
But inside, his world was crumbling.
Abruptly, he stood up out of the train seat. "Margot, I didn't know it was really you, and I told you to do all those things—"
She tugged his arm until he sat back down. "I could have said no," she said. "I even did one time, remember? You wanted me to let you watch, and I said no, and you respected that. You said we'd try it maybe another time. And the fact was, I wanted to do everything you told me to, even let you watch."
He looked at her, studying her face. She wasn't lying, but was she deceiving him in some other way, trying to make him feel better?
"I mean it," she said.
Then wonder filled him. This woman was perfect for him in every way. He could boss her around in the bedroom, and she...liked it?
She didn't seem ready to move things forward with him, and there was still the issue of his brother to consider, but he had every intention of taking this further. They'd be able to have so much fun with this.