Church
"I've been here three weeks," I pouted, making ripple rings in the water with my big toe.
"Yup," he said from his side of the boat, making smoke rings in the air. "Them are the rules, girly. Take 'em off."
I rolled my eyes and lifted one butt cheek, then the other, shimmying my running shorts down my legs and tossing them over my shoulder to him. He held the black and hot pink material up in front of him. "Oh boy," he said, leering at you.
"Relax, Max," I smirked, twanging the waistband of my bikini bottoms. "I got more where that came from."
"Shucks. Is that an official guess?"
"No! That's a saying. Unless that is your name," I sniffed, peeking at him. He was splayed out on the bottom of the boat the same as me, his legs dangling over the side, same as me, only he was on one side and I was on the other. The sea was a sheet of glass, tiny wavelets making pinpricks of sunlight that reflected off of everything, and I was missing my sunglasses. They were the second item I had to shed, after my baseball cap, and before my sleeveless t-shirt, which had sleeves on it before Church got ahold of it one night when we both had one too many margaritas. The resort wasn't quite up and fully functioning after the guerilla attack that debilitated not only the tourist destination, but the whole tropical island. The personal Bar of Church, however, was fully stocked and operational at all times.
That's where I came in, the new head of the public relations team that was assigned to document the resurrection of the premiere vacation spot.
That's where Church came in, assigned to be my personal tour guide slash body guard for the duration of my three week visit. After six days, he was coming in a few premiere personal spots.
"Nope, that ain't it, but I'll give ya this one, 'cause I'm in a generous mood today. What's your next guess?"
"Martin?"
"Un unh," he said, circling his hand over his head.
"Dammit," I huffed, reaching behind my back to untie the strings of my bikini top. I flung it in his direction, and he snagged it out of the air as it went sailing over his head. He dangled the teal blue scrap from the end of his index finger.
"Now we're gettin' somewhere, sweetie," he grinned, kissing each cup and draping them around his neck like a flower lei.
"Gawd," I giggled. He was too cute and too familiar with my body for me to be embarrassed.
"Now, to my best estimation, you got one more guess 'fore you're as nekkid as the day you were born, which, I might add, pleases me no end. So go ahead, give it your best shot."
"IS YOUR NAME…ANGEL…'CAUSE YOU LOOK LIKE YOU FELL FROM HEAVEN," I hollered, my head back and my voice echoing off the sheer rock cliffs surrounding the private cove Church's boat was drifting aimlessly around in. Out of all the beautiful places he showed me on his island home, silky white beaches and magical caves of dripping stalactites that exhaled air cooled by the earth, this cove was my favorite.
That's why he brought me here on my last full day with him.
I was surprised he just shook his head and chuckled quietly at my silliness. "You are a card, you know that?"
I stood up, careful not to rock the boat, stripped off my bikini bottoms, and went to him on his side of the boat. He felt me coming and helped me straddle his lap, his long legs still dipped in the ocean.
"I like it when you tell me that." I smiled, wrapping my arms around his neck. He was bare chested except for my bikini top lei, and his skin was hot to the touch. He smoothed the stray curls out of my face, and I leaned in for a kiss, the humidity catching my nipples and his chest hair and my chin and his scruff in a damp tangle.
"I like you," he murmured into my mouth, and I bit at his bottom lip. Our eyes were locked, and I watched the way the blue of his irises shaded dark or glowed light, sometimes flecked with green or gold.
Like his sea.
So I dived in.
"I like you, too. Jedidiah?"
"Not even close," he grinned, taking a puff off his cigar and streaming the smoke away from me. "You give up?"
"Un unh," I grunted like him. "I guess you're gonna have to start giving up your apparel for each of my wrong guesses. And the first thing to go is your stogie, my friend."
Church squinted at me. "Who made them rules?"
"Me."
He ran his fingertips down my cheek, stopping to swipe his thumb across my lower lip, his eyes lowered, hiding his soul behind his spiky thick lashes.
"I'll tell ya my first name on one condition."
"What's that?" I whispered, pushing his sweaty curls off his neck, waiting for him to come back to me.
"That you promise to come back to me as soon as you can."
"I promise," I vowed solemnly, cupping his face. "You're my Church."
His smile was brighter than the sun above us.
"Geoffrey?"
"Eh, you're gettin' warmer."
"George!"
"Wrong…"