Still Waters (15 page)

“Like
that,” she gasps, some time later.

I
pull back a bit so that I can see her. God, she’s amazing, the way she’s got
her eyes closed and her hand is grasping the cushion under her head. I want
this to be different with her. I need this to be different with her.

“Stay
in my cabin tonight,” I whisper.

She
opens her eyes, and nods.

Hartley

He pulls a key attached to a string out of his
pocket and opens the padlock that locks his door. The room is small and silver
with moonlight.

“Come
in,” he says, pulling me through the doorway by the hand.

I
watch him as he bends down and lights a thick white candle, and slides the
screens across the open windows to keep out the bugs.

The
room is empty except for a mattress on the floor covered by a mosquito net and
a rucksack leaning against the wall next to a stack of well-thumbed books. It’s
spartan and austere, like a monk’s cell. Yellow light dances up the wooden
walls and across the ceiling.
 
I stand by
the door suddenly overcome by nerves, and when he turns around to look at me,
he’s hesitating, too.

“You
look scared,” he says quietly, putting his hands in his pockets. He makes no
attempt to come closer to me.

“I’m
not scared,” I mumble, but my voice reveals the lie.

He
waits by the bed for a moment, thinking, and then crosses the floor between us.

“Am
I making you nervous?”

He
takes another step forward so that my back is pressed up against the door,
putting his hands into my hair and cradling my head against his chest.

“Do
you want this?”

I
press my ear against him, listening to the reassuring thud of his heart.

“Yes.”

He
pulls away from me, looking down, and his eyes are hot and glinting in the soft
yellow light of the room.

“Once
this happens, there’s no going back.”

I
close my eyes when his mouth bends to my neck.

“Was
there ever?”

His
lips are gone, and then they’re back again, pressing softly against my mine. We
whisper into each other’s wet mouths.

“I
like your dress. Take it off.”

“No.”

“No?”

“You
take it off.”

He
bends his head and kisses the hollow of my throat while he lifts the bottom of
my dress and runs his hands up the back of my thighs.

“Hartley,”
he whispers into my skin, “you feel….”

“Mmmmm,”
I say back, clutching handfuls of his shirt in my hands.

He
walks backward, pulling me with him until we’re standing in front of the
mattress on the floor. We pause for a moment, looking at each other, and then
he lifts his t-shirt over his head.

I’ve
seen him before, of course, but never like this. Never in the soft evening
light, his eyes clouded with desire and knowing he was mine.

“You
look beautiful,” I whisper, and he shakes his head.

“Lie
down.”

Crew

“I’m
taking this off,” I murmur against her mouth. She nods and moves back from
where I’m sitting in front of her on the bed.

I
lift her arms out of the straps and pull the zipper down. She’s not wearing a
bra.

“Oh
God.”

“Sssshhh,”
she moans, leaning forward to crush her lips against my mouth. “People down
there might hear you.”

Her
breasts graze my chest, and I wrap an arm around her back, pulling her to me so
that there’s no space between us.

“I
promise I won’t make a sound.”

Her
skin is incredible, soft and smooth and pale against mine. She blows air
against my neck through parted lips, and I press her closer so that her heart
is against my heart.

“Take
everything off,” she murmurs, “I want to see you.”

I
pull away from her and slowly pull off my pants and boxer shorts. Her eyes
flick down, once, and then she looks up into my eyes.

“Show
off.”

I
smile and move forward, placing my hands on her shoulders, and gently press her
back into the pillows. She reaches behind her head and loosens her hair so that
it spreads out around her, like a halo.

She’s
so damn gorgeous lying there, her eyes hot and her chest rising and falling
with shallow breaths. I could watch her like this forever.

“Are
you ready for this?” she whispers and looks up into my face.

“No.”

“Me
neither,” she smiles. “Come here.”

I
lie on my side next to her and rest my head on my arm. My hand trails a line
from her jaw, down the side of her neck to the curve of her breast. She closes
her eyes.

“I’ve
been thinking about this ever since I saw you put that first spoon of ice cream
in your mouth,” I say, planting kisses down her arm, along her collarbone,
across her breasts.

 
“You didn’t even notice I was alive,” she
gasps, and I reach down and run a hand up the inside of her leg. She parts them
slightly.

“Not
possible,” I murmur between kisses, “I saw you. I always see you. Open your
eyes.”

She
does, and when I look into them her longing is exposed, floating just beneath
the surface.

I
move my hand up, along her thigh, and then over the lace of her underwear near
her hip.

“Take
these off,” I say, and she nods, unable to speak.

She
hooks a finger into the waistband on either side and lifts herself up to peel
them off.

 
“Beautiful,” I whisper against her skin and
trace my finger down, over her stomach, her hip, lower. I bend down, resting my
head against her ribs just under her breasts. She clutches my hair and my back
and when she tries to move away from my touch I press her into the mattress
with my arm.

“Please..”
she cries out, and I lift my head, placing my cheek against her breast.

“Not
yet. You feel so good.”

She
has one hand in my hair, the other grasping at the sheet next to her. She can’t
wait much longer, and neither can I.

I
pull away reluctantly and climb over her, supporting myself on my arms. She
runs her hands up over my shoulders and gently down my back and looks up into
my face.

“You
are the sexiest man,” she murmurs lifting her mouth into my neck. “I can’t take
it.”

I
nudge her knees a little with my hip, and she parts her legs, taking a deep
breath.

“Keep
your eyes open,” I whisper, “look at me.”

I
want to look at her, through her eyes and into her soul. I want her to see me,
too. Because if we close our eyes, I’m worried that this moment between us
might fracture, and old memories will flood in to fill the gaps. More than
anything I’m desperate for there to be only two people in this bed tonight. Go,
Jessie, I plead silently, please Jessie, please go.

“Wider,”
I murmur, pulling myself back to the present and kissing her hungrily.

She
arches her back and puts her hands at the back of my neck, pulling my mouth
harder against hers. Her knees are trembling on either side of my waist.

And
then suddenly there is no time, there is only movement and breath, softness
against hard, heat and wet and pleasure that is almost pain.

“I
need…”

“Don’t
stop.”

“You
feel..”

“I
can’t. Babe, I can’t.”

And
then, when it’s over, and my heart is hammering in my chest like gunfire, I
pull her legs around my waist and rest my head on her breast. She strokes my
hair, runs her fingertip along my eyebrows and draws circles on my back.

And
this time, for the first time, I’m the one who cries.
 

Hartley

“I’m
sorry,” he breathes into my skin. “I wanted that to be better for you. It’s
just that you felt so good, and it’s been so long.”

I
reach down and place a finger over his mouth.

“Ssssh.
That was amazing, the best it’s ever been for me.”

He
freezes for a moment and then he’s shaking his head, laughing into my breast.

“Oh
Hartley, we’re going to have so much fun.”

“Oh
really?” I smile as I twirl a piece of his hair around my finger.

“You
have no idea.”

He
rolls off me then and lies down on his side next to me.

“That
sounds a little ominous.”

“Does
it?”

He
runs a hand lazily over my stomach and down the side of my hip. I look down at
his arm, brown and thick with muscle against my lily-white skin.

“Can
I ask you something?” he says, moving closer so that his lips graze my
shoulder.

“Sure.”

“It’s
kind of a serious question.”

“Go
ahead.”

“Do
you still have feelings for David?”

At
the mention of his name my heart gives a kick and not in a good way. I thought
I’d made myself clear when it came to my desire to have a fresh start in Twin
Heads, so my first instinct is to be a little annoyed. But then I get it.

“You
mean because of you and Jessie?”

He
sighs heavily, his breath warm against my skin.

“I
know how intense a first love can be. And up until a few minutes ago he was the
only man you’d been with. I guess I just want to understand where your head is
at. If you still have some feelings there, you know, I think that would be
understandable.”

“Crew,”
I say, turning onto my side and propping my head up with my hand. “What you had
with Jessie doesn’t sound anything like my relationship with David. I don’t
miss him. I don’t want to see him again, ever. And if it’s ok with you,” I add
quietly, “I’d rather not talk about him again. I just want to leave all of that
in the past.”

He
looks at me seriously, his eyes searching mine.
 
I open my mouth to say something and then quickly shut it, changing my
mind.

“What
is it?”

“Don't
worry about it, it's nothing.”

He
reaches an arm up and runs it down my side.

“I
don't think so. What is it?”

I
sit up and pull the sheet from the end of the bed, wrapping it around me and
tucking it in front. He’s rolled onto his back, his arm under his head, his
eyes soft in the candlelight.

“Ok,”
I begin, taking another look around the room. “Where is home for you, Crew?”

His
eyebrows lift in surprise. Whatever he was thinking I was going to say, it
wasn't that.

“Your
house in Twin Heads looks like no one lives there. You have three completely
empty bedrooms. There are no photos anywhere or clothes in the wardrobes. You
have one towel in your bathroom.”

He
doesn't say anything, so I continue.

“So
I thought maybe this would be more like a home to you. But this room is like
something you'd see in a monastery. There's nothing in here; you don't even
have electricity.”

“I
like simplicity,” he says mildly, but his eyes are wary.

“I
love this place too. But I guess I'm wondering, or hoping really, that you have
a place that you think of as home.”

“What
do you mean?”

“You
know,” I say quietly as I trace a finger over his stomach and up the side of
his ribs. He shivers but keeps his eyes on me. “A place where you feel
completely comfortable. Somewhere that you look forward to returning to. A
place to keep all of the things that are special to you. Close your eyes.”

He
looks at me for a moment and then lowers his eyelids with a sigh. I lie down
next to him, my head on his chest.

“Now
imagine you're having a really, really bad day. The worst.”

Under
my cheek, I feel his muscles tense and his breath catch in his chest. I quickly
put a hand over his heart and kiss his skin.

“Not
that kind of day, Crew.”

He
relaxes slightly under me and takes a deep breath.

“Carry
on.”

 
“Imagine it's been raining all day and you’re
late to work and when you go to lunch, you realize you forgot your wallet. Then
your computer keeps logging you out and you can't get through to anyone to fix
it. Your clothes are uncomfortable, you think you're getting a cold, and then
the guy sitting next to you in the afternoon meeting smells like onion.”

“Wow,”
he says, his mouth lifting in the corner. “That is a bad day.”

“Yes,”
I say firmly, “it was. Now, at the end of this very bad day, when you're
finally on your way home, where are you heading? What image comes into your
head?”

He
opens his eyes and looks down at me.

“You.”

“I’m
your ‘home’?” I whisper.

He
rolls onto his side, facing me.

“Why
does a home have to be a house?”

I
place a hand at the back of his neck and thread my fingers through his hair.

“I'm
worried that you live like this to stop yourself from belonging anywhere.
Everybody needs to have roots, Crew. A place to return to.”

He
leans forward and gently kisses my mouth.

“I
am rooted, but I flow.”

“Exactly.
Never argue with Virginia Woolf.”

“I
have a house, at Ondas. It's three bedrooms. It even has furniture in it.”

I
smile against his mouth.

“But
I've never lived in it. I gave it to the manager and his family. It doesn't
make sense for it to sit empty for most of the year when he needs a house to
raise his kids in.”

“Very
noble,” I murmur, kissing him slowly, “but where do you stay when you're
there?”

“In
a cabin in the forest with a mattress on the floor.”

I
groan and roll away from him, throwing my arm across my face.

“Come
on,” he laughs, “there’s one other thing I haven’t shown you yet.”

He
sits up and crawls out from under the netting. I pull the sheet around me
tighter and follow him out.
 
He walks
across the small room to a corner hidden in shadows.

“In
here,” he says, and I can feel rather than see his smile.

At
the end of one wall, hidden in the dim light of the room, is a small doorway.
Crew lights a candle that sits on a shelf by the door, and we walk through.

It’s
a little bathroom, built on the side of the treehouse. The walls are open
except for a railing made of wood that wraps around three sides. We’re hidden
in the canopy of the forest, completely obscured from view, but it still feels
a little dangerous to be out here, almost naked. Or in Crew’s case, completely
naked. I look over the side, in the direction of the sea. I can hear waves rolling
and crashing onto the beach. A warm breeze blows the sheet against my skin and
every now and again a few leaves rain down onto the roof above us.

“Feel
like a shower?” Crew says into my ear. He pulls a chain and then suddenly water
is gushing from the ceiling and out through the wooden slats at our feet. He
walks behind me and reaches around to untuck the sheet.

“This
is turning out to be the best day ever,” he whispers, and then the sheet is
gone. He walks forward, nudging me towards the shower. The water is a torrent;
it pours from the ceiling like a fire hose. I hold my breath and step under.

“Argh!”
I yell and dance around a bit under the spray. It’s not what I was expecting.
The water is cool, almost cold, and it hits my shoulders like bullets.

“What
was that?” Crew laughs behind me. He has to shout to be heard over the gush of
the water.

“What?”
I shout back. My eyes are closed tight, but I can feel him, all of him,
 
behind me.

“That
little dance you did.”

I
open an eye, and he’s moving a little way out of the water, openly laughing at
me while he rubs a bar of soap over his chest. He continues for a while,
happily rubbing the bubbles over his shoulders, biceps, his stomach, and legs.
He’s completely oblivious to the way he looks right now, muscles contracting as
he moves his body, his hair slick against his scalp. I look down at where the
pressure of the water has made bright red marks on my breasts and stomach.
Strands of hair are plastered to my cheeks. This should probably be one of the
sexiest moments of my life. Despite the view, it’s not.

“You
know, it would be considerate if you could give that a rest.”

“Give
what a rest?” he smiles, his eyes traveling from the top of my head to my toes.

“You.
Looking like that. I mean seriously, Crew, it’s all the time.”

The
corner of his mouth twitches as he watches me push the hair out of my face and
dodge left and right, recoiling from the pressure of the water.

“Come
over this way,” he calls out, reaching out a hand for me to grasp. He pulls me
to him, and I press my forehead to his chest.

“Ok,
what kind of shower is that, and how can we make sure that I never have to
experience it again.”

The
muscles in my back feel like they’ve been whacked with a rolling pin, and my
skin is tingling all over. Actually, maybe it’s not so bad.

“It’s
a rain shower,” he says, trying not to laugh. “Well, actually it’s a waterfall
shower. Soap?”

I
nod, and he reaches down to where a bottle of body wash is sitting on the
floor. He squeezes some into his palm and rubs his hands together.

“If
you actually enjoy that shower then you must be some kind of masochist.”

He
places a hand on each of my shoulders and rubs soap down over my arms, back up
again, over my shoulders, around each breast.

“But
how do you feel now?” he murmurs, spinning me around. He picks up my hair and
places it over one shoulder and then rubs soap down my back in circles.

“Like
my skin is vibrating.”

His
hand is rough, calloused, I lean into it, enjoying the way it scratches my
skin.

“That
doesn’t sound so bad.” He leans forward and kisses my ear. “Time to rinse.”

“Uh
uh,” I shake my head. “No way. I’m not going back in there.”

I
can feel him laughing behind me.

“Relax,
kid, I’ve got another plan.”

He
leaves me standing there soapy and tingling and bends down to pull a bucket out
from under the sink. He holds it under the shower for a moment and then turns
the water off by pulling down hard on the chain.

“Stand
over here.”

He
leads me to the railing and gently nudges me so that I’m leaning against it.
The wood is smooth against my back.

“How
do you feel now?” he says, reaching into the bucket and pulling out a yellow
sea sponge. Water dribbles over my shoulder and breast, and he wipes the
bubbles softly away.

“Like
I have no bones in my body,” I mumble and close my eyes.

“Relaxed,
then?”

He
steps forward and pulls the sponge down over my ribs, hip, thigh. He moves
closer, dropping the sponge at his feet, and I let my head fall forward onto
his chest. I lick a droplet of water off his skin. He smells like rain.

Hands
move up, cradling the sides of my face; a thumb drags across my bottom lip.
Fingertips, featherlike, down the side of my neck, under the curve of my
breast, across my stomach and hip.

“Don’t
guys usually need to sleep afterwards?” I smile as he pulls me close, pressing
himself into my stomach.

“Babe,
I've been sleeping for a year,” he says, bending down and kissing my hair.
“Believe me, I'm wide awake.”