He leant forward slowly, allowing the electricity between
their bodies spark a little as he stretched his arms forward and
gently dropped the fragile thread around her neck, the skin so
white it was almost translucent. As each tiny bead found its
place against her, smooth and cold, she took a breath of air in
and exhaled, her breath brushing the back of his hands as he ran
his fingers over the beads and up to the nape of her neck where
he could ease the fragile clasp to a closed position.
"It's beautiful."
"I know."
She turned gracefully to face him, tilting her head back slightly
so their eyes could meet. The shimmer of water in her eyes that
lay like a thin film over the deep irises glittered in the light
of the candles on the table, and his own dark eyes lay raw and
open to his soul, the sparks jumping far beyond all reaches. The
only connection between them was the way her hand lay,
encompassed by his in warmth. His thumb, repeating a pattern as
it stroked the top of her wrist, pressing closely against the
persistant beat of her heart.
The bed was soft, and took up most of the room. Covered with a
satin topsheet, a thick light duvet, and two deep red roses
intertwined on the pillows. Locked in the doorway they simply
stared, eyes roaming over the luxury that was to be theirs for
the weekend. She turned to him, gazing up slightly as he pulled
her closer to his side, an arm wrapped around her like a beloved
posession.
"We should get married more often."
His teeth made the briefest of appearences through his lips as he
placed his other arm on her back and traced down from her
forehead to her mouth, sealing it closed with his own as they
pressed together like a couple in a painting, framed by the
doorway.
A flame licked up the heavily ridged bark of a cut log,
caressing it carefully and distributing light outwards, splashing
it over the surface of the wooden floor, the small table and the
faces of the couple and their children on the couch above. They
sat, taking in comfort from the closeness of each other, directly
in the centre. His arm curled around her shoulders as the soft
stands of her hair fell against his chest, her own arms circled
around the infant on her lap, rolled into a ball. The other
child, stretched out to full length, rested her head in the crook
of his left arm and let her feet roll to the edge of the soft
material that was the couch.
"Do we have to get up?"
"No."
Her mouth curved in a smile, she let the lids of her eyes fold
down and plunge the world into a velvety blanket of warmth and
satisfaction. His large hand delicately lifted a lost curl from
her cheek and brushed it back behind her ear, the tip winding
itself around his finger.
Watching a sailboat out on the ocean, and the children play in
the sand, as the sun licked the back of their necks, he observed
from a distance. They leant together, perfectly balanced as he
ran a finger down her bare arm and she laughed, her head tipping
backwards at a joke. His grin was radiant, unbroken by the child
who threw herself into his arms moments later with unbridled
love. She smiled too, the smile coming from deep within her, a
place where she was settled and happy.
Doug hadn't seen that smile in a long time, and he smiled his own
smile, tainted with pain and regret, as he watched Carol and her
family on the beach below him.