Page 10 of The Square

CHAPTER THREE - CHRISTINE

I know whathe’s thinking about. That’s why I’m trying my best to make him forget.

I need this. I need him. Just him, right now.

“We need each other,” I whisper, lowering my face to his neck. He breathes in. Holds it. My lips flutter against his skin and he breathes out.

And I don’t know why, but I like that. I sigh as I kiss him, enjoying his reaction as I softly drag my fingernails against the hard muscles of his waist. His shirt is billowing out behind him in the wind. Unfinished. Just like us. And I want it to stay like that forever. I want to capture this moment and hold it tight. Keep it to myself for as long as possible.

But, inevitably, the wind takes it past that point of no return and it slides the rest of the way down his arms and drops to the deck, leaving him bare from the waist up.

The sun has been gone for a while but the moon is out and it’s bright and big, its hazy glow spilling out into the navy-blue night like the fog of a dream. Illuminating the hills and valleys of his chest and turning him into some supernatural thing. Some fantastical thing from a legend or a myth. A hero. My hero.

I lift my head up again and find his mouth, saying, “You have always been my hero,” as we kiss.

And oh, God. It’s a great kiss. Even though he chuckles about the hero thing.

“Please,” he breathes back. Kissing me. Little ones. Just lips and no tongue. “I’m no hero.”

But he is. And even though the kisses are perfect, he’s not touching me. Not the way he should be. His fingers are pressing lightly against my head, threaded into my hair. But there’s no desperation in his touch. We are not panting heavily. We are not in the agony of lust.

It’s too calm. Too easy. Too perfect.

So I reach up and take his hands and place them on my hips.

He gets it, or does the next thing on instinct. Because they slip around to my back, encircling me and tugging me close. My breasts press against his chest and I melt.

Just melt into him.

We’ve been together for months now. Alone on this boat. And we have weeks of togetherness left.

I need those weeks to make up for the months.

The betrayal is still fresh. The lapse in loyalty still real.

And I need him to forget.

But even though he’s not pushing me away, and that’s a good sign, and I know with such certainty that we will be together tonight, he’s not embracing it the way I need him to.

So I say, “Danny…” Because I need to tell him this. I need to explain everything. But the words leave me in that moment and the whole act is just another bit of unfinished business.

“Christine,” he says, his voice low and throaty as he kisses me again. His mouth opens up and his tongue slides up against mine. And I expect him to say something like… I want to fuck you now. Or, Everything will be OK. Or, Take off your clothes.

Or maybe he’ll just rip this little dress off my body, toss it overboard, and throw me down onto the overstuffed pillows of the deck couch and make me obey him.

But he says, “You need to lower your expectations.”

And I don’t know why, because this is not the way this night should be going and that should worry me, but I laugh.

“I’m serious,” he says, his fingertips slipping under the strap of my dress and dragging it over my shoulder, leaving it like that. Unfinished, just like I left his shirt when I started the process of unburdening him. He looks down at me, his blue eyes catching the moonlight, making them sparkle in that supernatural way. Convincing me that he’s wrong. That he is my hero. Even though he says, in the same moment, “I’m no hero. You know what comes out when you poke me. Blackness.”

I stop breathing and study him. Shaking my head. Because it’s not true. He’s the bluest thing in the entire universe. But I don’t want to waste time explaining why he’s so perfect or how I know he’ll save me—save everyone—when the time comes. So I reach down and grab his cock through his slacks and squeeze.

Which makes him close his eyes and smile.

And reach for the other strap of my dress.

And drag that one over my shoulder too.