Shine

by Jeri Smith-Ready

  The fire crackled and curled the paper, then snapped at the dry wood. I sat back on my heels, offering the lit end of the match to Zachary. “Make a wish.”

  His green eyes, dark with desire, met mine as he blew out the match. Then he leaned forward, and without touching me, brought his lips to mine.

  We’d had perfect kisses before. Our first one, a year ago on that ship. Our last one at the airport in June was pretty amazing, too. And then there was the time in the woods, when we finally decided to be together.

  But this . . .

  It was as if with one kiss—one long, deep, shivery kiss—he’d turned me naked beneath him, and I was feeling his lips and tongue on every inch of my skin. In that moment, I lost all fear and nerves. I became pure want.

  He finally reached for me, but instead of giving me the caresses I craved, he slowly unbuttoned my top, his fingers not even grazing my skin. I moaned, relishing this delicious torture, realizing that he meant to touch me only when he could press hands to flesh.

  Zachary peeled back my shirt, one shoulder at a time. Even as my skin met the chilly air, it was warmed by the swelling fire and this never-ending kiss.

  He finally broke away, long enough to pull off his own shirt, the collar sweeping his hair forward over his temples, almost to the ridge of his brows. Unable to resist, I brushed the dark waves off his forehead, then traced his hairline down to the curve of his jaw.

  Zachary closed his eyes and turned his head to kiss my palm. In its soft, tender center, I felt the touch of his tongue. I gasped as the electric sensation seemed to skip my arm and go straight to my core.

  My pulse skyrocketed until I could hear nothing but its pounding in my ears. I wanted to grab him and drag him to the bed, but obviously he wanted to take this slow. I’d let him do whatever he wanted, how ever he wanted, as long as he didn’t stop.

  But to encourage him to move a little faster, I pulled my hand from his face and unhooked my bra. Zachary swallowed hard, Adam’s apple rising and falling, as he watched me remove it. Then I lay on my back on the thick rug in front of the fire.

  He moved forward, lithe as a cat, to plant his hands beside my shoulders, his knees astride my thighs. For one long moment, we just stared, drinking in the sight of each other.

  Then all at once, he brought his body to mine. Our flesh collided, hot and smooth, as we kissed with a new ferocity. We grasped and clung and stroked every inch of skin we could find, rocking our hips in a frantic simulation of what was to come.

  When I reached between us to find his belt buckle, he took my hand and threaded his fingers with mine. “Come.” We somehow got to our feet, and he led me to the bed.

  Which might as well have been another world.

  Maybe it was the distance from the fire, or maybe it was the sudden realization that This Was It. But as we finished undressing and found ourselves together on the bed, with him doing all the things I used to love, my fear froze me right out of the moment.

  Zachary noticed immediately. Lying on his side facing me, he ran his hand down my goose-bumped arm, his brow creasing with concern. “Are ye cold?”

  “Yeah.”

  He drew the red flannel sheet and the white quilt up to our shoulders, creating a warm cave. “Better?”

  “A little.” I pulled my arms to my chest, feeling small and vulnerable.

  He took my right hand and kissed my knuckles. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just, I don’t know.”

  “Nervous? Me too.”

  “More than nervous.”

  Zachary stroked my hair. “I’ll do all I can not to hurt you.”

  I closed my eyes, wishing that now of all times I wasn’t thinking of Logan. Of that afternoon a week before he died when we’d tried to do this and I’d stopped us because of the pain.

  “We can wait if you want,” Zachary said. “You’re tired.”

  “I’m not tired, and I don’t want to wait.” I bit my lip at the sound of my whine. “Sorry I’m being crazy.”

  “We’re both crazy.” His broad, strong hand stroked my lower back. “Crazy and naked.”

  I gave a shaky laugh, clearing my head. I let my limbs relax, muscle by muscle, until my toes stopped pointing and my fists unfurled.

  My fingertips splayed over Zachary’s chest, at first only resting. Then, slowly, they began to trace the top contour of his pectoral muscle. They continued down, over the bumps of his breastbone, pausing to feel his heart thump five times fast before moving on, lower.

  When I touched him under his last rib, his breath caught so suddenly, I realized he’d been holding it. My hand slid around his waist and into the valley of his spine. I traced each vertebra, halfway up his back, before stopping, then descending.

  This was what I needed to feel safe. Not him touching me, demanding my body to respond. Me touching him, making him warm and familiar again, yet new enough to fascinate. Hearing Zachary respond with quickening breath and needful groans.

  The need in my own voice when I touched him there seemed to be the signal he was waiting for.

  “Stay a moment,” he whispered against my cheek. “Just like tha’.” Zachary moved to the edge of the bed and unzipped his bag. Clearly he’d put the condoms in an easy-to-find pocket—figures, since he was the plan-ahead type—because it was barely half a minute before he turned back to me.

  I didn’t know how to ask about the logistics of positioning. “Where should I—”

  “This is best for you, for the first time.” He moved close, to where he needed to be. “Side by side, so gravity won’t rush us.”

  I smiled at his mention of one of the fundamental forces. It reminded me that he was the same randomly geeky scientist I’d known for over a year. It reminded me that he was my friend.

  “Thanks,” I said. “And sorry for being scared. I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

  Zachary went still, hand on my hip, for so long I wondered if I’d upset him. Then he spoke.

  “Aura, I dunno what I’m doing either.”

  “At least you’ve done this before.” My remark was met with silence. “Wait . . . what?”

  He hesitated. “I’ve never done this before.”

  My mind swirled. All this time I’d had horrible images of him shagging Suzanne on a twice-daily basis for the eight months of their relationship, and he was actually a virgin? “Never? As in never ever?”

  “Never ever,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry?” Relief flooded my veins. “And why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I figured if you thought I had experience, you’d be less nervous.” I suddenly loved him so much, I almost cried. But I wanted to savor this sweet, light moment. “Anything else I should know about you?”

  “Hmm. Besides my real name?”

  Mind, further blown. “What?!”

  “A’right, legally, my real name is Zachary. But in Gaelic it’s Sgàire.” He spelled it for me.

  “Sgàire.” I tried to replicate his pronunciation, SKAR-uh, balanced between my throat and tongue. “Did I say it right?”

  “Aye.” He moved against me, kissing the hollow of my throat and tightening his grip on my back. “Beautiful.”

  I whispered it again, thrilling at his reaction, and at my own giddiness that we would discover this new world together.

  When we were both ready, he gently took my elbow and guided my arm around him. “Just hold on to me, and don’t forget tae breathe.”

  I drew a deep inhale, and as I let it out, he moved up and in. My eyes flew open at the sudden pain, and I couldn’t suppress a faint cry.

  Zachary stilled. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Should we stop?”

  “No.” I inhaled again, even deeper, and eased my grip on his shoulder. “I’m okay.” As I uttered the words, I realized they were true—I wasn’t just trying to make him feel better. “I’m really okay.” My relief and amazement bubbled into soft laughter.

  “You’re no
’ okay, you’re perfect,” he murmured against my cheek. “Mo anam caraid.”

  At the sound of this phrase that only my heart understood, I felt a wave of joy wipe away my last bit of fear. We’d waited so long and fought so hard for this, and now it was happening.

  I’d always thought we’d be in two separate worlds in these moments—his of pleasure, mine of pain. But we took it slow, lingering over each touch, even the fumbling motions that made us laugh. And when my ache faded and we found our rhythm, the boundary between us dissolved, then formed again far outside our bodies, creating a new space and time in the universe just for Us.

  Even as Zachary’s breath shortened and his voice sharpened, and the muscles beneath my hands tensed into taut wires, I could imagine he was taking me with him.

  We were linked, for the endless now that felt every bit like forever.

  Chapter Thirty

  We held each other tight in the awed silence that followed. Finally Zachary stirred and said, “Are y’all right, then?”

  I sniffled, only now realizing that my eyes had watered. “Great. You?”

  He offered a soft laugh. “Aye. Great.”

  I gazed at Zachary’s face. The worry lines between his brows were gone, and his lips, flushed from kissing, were curved slightly up instead of down. I wanted to take a picture of him in this moment, make a permanent image of his serenity.

  “So, if you’d never done this before,” I said, “how did you know how to make it, um, easier on me?”

  “Something this important, you think I’d not do my homework?”

  “Of course you would,” I said with a laugh. “And of course you’d figure it out using gravitational forces.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No, it’s why I love you.”

  “Oh.” He brushed a lock of hair off my cheek, smoothing it back over my pillow. “Of course, technically gravity’s not a force.”

  “I know, Big Brain—I’ve read Einstein. Gravity is what bends space-time.”

  “Aye.” His fingertips drifted forward, over my shoulder. “Keep talking.”

  “So everything, including light, travels in a curved path.”

  “Curves are good.” He traced my collarbone to the center, then slid his hand downward as he spoke. “Everything in the universe is always falling through space-time.”

  I pressed my hand over his and tilted up my chin. “Always.”

  “But sometimes, like right now”—he kissed my neck, caressing me—“I think I can feel it.”

  I could feel it, too. It was like we were falling faster or slower than the rest of the universe, but at the same speed as each other, and that was all that mattered.

  As his hand passed over my belly, my stomach responded with an insistent growl.

  “Oh my God.” I covered my face, embarrassed.

  Zachary laughed. “So you’re hungry now, aye?”

  “Starving. But I want to shower first.”

  “Go on. Take with you whatever clothes you want to wear to dinner.”

  “Why?”

  “You’ll see.” He kissed my cheek. “There’s something I need to do, to make us safe.”

  When I got out of the shower, Zachary was unpacking, wearing nothing but a pair of light flannel pants slung low on his waist. Which somehow made him look even hotter than when he was naked.

  I padded over to the bed, passing the coffee table where my roses sat in a china vase, which Zachary must have gotten from the B and B lady.

  On the bed, my suitcase lay open. And empty.

  “You unpacked for me?”

  “Just your clothes.” He bent low over the top dresser drawer. “Everything else, I set with your hand luggage.”

  I joined him at the dresser, where he’d laid out his shirts, socks, and boxers in a neat row in the top drawer. My own clothes had been arranged in the right-hand set of drawers. So much for my red lingerie “surprise.”

  Zachary murmured to himself, then bent over to write a number on a scrap of paper. A ruler lay atop the wooden dresser.

  “Are you measuring the distance between your socks?”

  “Aye.” He scribbled another number.

  “Are you OCD or something? Not that there’s anything wrong—”

  “Ha, hardly.” He beamed up at me. “You’ve seen bits of my room at home on our video chats. It’s a disaster.”

  Zachary shut the drawer and took a step back from the dresser, guiding me to do the same. Then he picked up a white plastic bottle of talcum powder. Holding his breath, he twisted open the top, held the bottle over the dresser, and gave it a hard squeeze.

  A cloud of powder erupted from the bottle. Zachary stepped out of the way and let the powder settle on the edge of the dresser. He repeated the action another step back. The snow-white substance drifted onto the polished dark wooden floor.

  “Right, then. Don’t go over there.” He picked up a black shaving kit and strode off to the bathroom.

  What the hell was he up to?

  It was too quiet, so I switched on the radio, finding a Dublin alternative-rock station. As I dressed and put on my makeup, I pondered the puzzle Zachary had left me. Through the bathroom door, I heard him singing in the shower, sounding smug.

  The water turned off. Determined to solve this mystery before he returned, I opened the wardrobe door. He’d twined the arm of his shirt around the arm of mine, but loosely enough that they’d separate if they were moved.

  Oh . . .

  I slowly examined the room again. My gaze landed on the wooden balcony doors. The crack between them was straight and dark—except for one sliver near the top. I walked over, giving the dresser a wide berth, then stood on tiptoes to examine the door.

  A piece of tape, half the width of my pinkie nail, stretched across the gap. It would break at the slightest pressure.

  Now I saw the careful arrangement everywhere—the tape across the master light switch by the door, Zachary’s extra pair of shoes set perpendicular to each other at the foot of the bed. Even the bedsheets were mussed in a discernible pattern, the wrinkles forming a Z.

  The bathroom door opened, revealing his silhouette. “What’s your guess?”

  I crossed my arms in triumph. “Counterespionage tricks.”

  “Brilliant.” He brushed his hand over my shoulder as he passed. “If anyone comes in while we’re out, we’ll know.”

  “And then what?”

  “I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”

  “Liar. You so have.”

  Stepping into his shoes, he tugged his sweater over his head. “If things get dodgy in the Republic, we’ll drive north.”

  “We can’t leave before solstice tomorrow.”

  “No, not unless our lives are in danger.”

  “You think they could be?”

  “After what I’ve been through—” Zachary withdrew a slim object from his shaving kit. With a click, a blade flicked out of the handle. He folded it back in, then tucked the contraption into his jacket pocket. “Can’t be too careful.”

  “Do you know how to use that?”

  “Of course I do.” He grinned as he helped me into my coat. “The sharp end goes into the bad guy.”

  It took almost an hour of driving in the rain to find the pub, but the place was worth the search. Rather than the tiny, dark drinking hole I’d imagined, it had a full, wide restaurant with cozy, plush embroidered booths. Zachary and I grabbed one in the far corner, inside an almost gazebo-like structure. I was glad for the semiprivacy, and glad that we could sit side by side, looking out on our surroundings.

  In the center of the large octagonal room, a huge iron chandelier cast overlapping patterns of light. Shadows from candle sconces danced on the walls, flickering in time to the holiday pop tunes piping over the speaker. On a small stage at the other side of the room, a three-man band was setting up their equipment.

  “I hope they play something other than Christmas carols,” I said to Zachary. “You think they’ll take r
equests, or—”

  I stopped when I saw his face. He’d closed his menu and was staring through it, flipping the cardboard coaster over and over.

  Uh-oh. Megan had warned me that guys changed after sex. They got distant, or possessive, or clingy—or all three on infinite repeat.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  He looked up quickly, and I expected him to say, “Nothing,” then retreat into one of the many corners of his mind.

  Instead his eyes held mine for a long, silent moment. “You’ll think I’m crazy. Maybe you’ll be right.”

  “Tell me, anyway.”

  “It was probably my imagination, and I don’t know what I’m talking about, really, since I’d never—” He swept his fingers through the rain-damp hair on his forehead. “Ach, maybe it’s nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing. Tell me.”

  “When we were together today, it was like—like we’d carved out a place in the universe for just the two of us.”

  My heart stopped. My voice came out a bare whisper. “A place where no one’s ever been before.”

  Zachary’s eyes lit up. “You felt it, too?” He pulled his knee onto the cushion between us, so that he faced me straight on. “Was it real?”

  “It felt real. And I don’t think—I mean, I’m not an expert, either, but I’ve never heard anyone say that happened. Especially not the first time.”

  He spread his hands as if illustrating one of the wonders of the universe—which he was. “The scientist in me hates to use this word, but—it was fuckin’ mystical.”

  I laughed, both at his reluctance to use the M word and his rare burst of profanity.

  He continued, “It was like I was taken somewhere else. Somewhere I belonged.”

  My lip trembled. Megan was right—Zachary had changed. The intensity in his eyes held me in place, not just here in the booth but by his side. How could I leave him to go back home? It scared me to need anyone so much. If our souls became inextricably tangled, would mine still be mine? Did I care?