In all of his fantasies of Linka, kissing had never really played a starring role for Wheeler. It wasn't that he hadn't ever thought about it, for he enjoyed kissing and the unique pleasure of pressing his lips against those of an attractive woman. But for Wheeler, guilt ridden and indulging in what he'd thought was a taboo moment, kissing wasn't something he considered worth dwelling upon. Instead, he'd concentrated his guilty and hurried thoughts on Linka's legs, her breasts, and on the creamy velvet of her skin. Her lips had been bypassed, ignored in favour of other areas that brought Wheeler quicker gratification and thus freedom from what he always imagined to be a shameful moment of weakness.
But now, with her lips pressed against his and his tongue sweeping gently into her mouth, Wheeler knew kissing Linka would play not just a starring role but near enough the leading part in any future fantasies of her. As he kissed her intently, pushing her back so that she lay in the cool sand, draping himself above her, his mind emptied of all but two thoughts: how amazing this felt, and why the fuck hadn't he tried it before?
Linka tasted of salt and coconut, a curious mix of savoury and sweet that made Wheeler moan with pleasure. Her lips were soft and her mouth was warm, and he felt her shiver underneath him as he deepened the kiss, her hands reaching up and into his hair. He broke the kiss to run his lips over her cheek, before nibbling gently on her shoulder.
"Mmm," Linka made a noise of approval, and Wheeler pulled away from running his mouth over her skin to gaze into her eyes. They were hazy and soft, the colour of the ocean on an early spring day, and it took his breath away to look at them.
"Babe," he whispered, and watched as Linka licked her lips. She pulled his head back to hers, and Wheeler felt his eyes flutter closed as his mouth met hers once more.
It was almost disheartening to realise just how staggeringly good this kiss was. In a way, if kissing Linka had been at all awkward or disappointing, Wheeler could've pulled away and moved on, content in the knowledge that they were friends who just didn't work like that. They could have put all this sex talk behind them and both gone forward, knowing they'd tried but just weren't meant to be.
But this kiss wasn't at all awkward. This kiss wasn't at all disappointing. This kiss, Wheeler suddenly realised, was probably the best of his life. And that thought, coupled with the growing arousal he knew he could do little to hide, made him sit up and wrench himself away from her, panting slightly as he sat back and ran a shaky hand through his hair.
Linka sat up too, watching him with concerned eyes.
"Yankee, are you alright?" She asked him, her voice soft but fretful. He gazed at her in return, nodding slowly.
"Yeah," he replied. "Look, it's just that—"
"You did not enjoy it," Linka decided blankly. "I am... what is the word I need? Inexperienced. I am inexperienced and you did not like kissing me."
Wheeler stared at her in amazement. "What? No. Tell me somethin', Lin," he asked her slowly. "Did you think that was a bad kiss?"
Linka looked down, her fingers running across the sand, the grains shifting beneath them. "No," she admitted, blushing slightly. "But then, I have no basis for comparison. Not really." She looked up and met his steady gaze. "Not like you."
Wheeler swallowed, keeping his eyes locked with hers. "I don't need any comparison to know that we just shared an amazing kiss, babe," he told her honestly. "It was good. So good, in fact, that it's takin' all of my resolve not to haul you over my shoulders, take you back to my cabin and have my way with you right now."
Linka chewed on her lip. "Well, Umm, why don't you?" She asked quietly, her cheeks pink, and Wheeler sighed.
"That's not what I want for us, babe."
Linka stared at him, her eyes almost accusing. "You keep saying that," she murmured. "Keep telling me that you do not want something for us. Why? What is going through your mind, Yankee?"
Wheeler exhaled, long and hard, before he reached for Linka's hand. There were still grains of sand clinging to her skin and he brushed them off gently, before bringing her fingers to his mouth and kissing them tenderly.
"This is me safeguarding our friendship," he admitted. "I don't want to lose that, when all this is over and done with. When you look back on this, I want it to be a positive memory. I want you to think back on our time together like... like this," he squeezed her hand to emphasise his meaning, "as a happy period in your life. So, I'm not gonna treat you like some cheap or easy—"
"Conquest?" Linka asked warily, and Wheeler groaned.
"No, no, no," he reassured her. "I don't think that way. I just meant... I'm gonna treat you right, Lin. I promise."
For a moment, Linka's eyes lingered on where her hand rested within his, and she curled her fingers within his grasp, stroking the sensitive skin of his palm. He shivered with pleasure and he saw her give a small smile.
"You like it? When I touch you there?" she asked.
Wheeler nodded, his mouth suddenly dry. "Yeah."
She stroked his palm again, seemingly lost in thought. Finally, she looked up at him, her eyes bright and clear. "I trust you, Yankee," she said slowly. "You do not have to promise me anything... I know you will treat me right. That is one of the reasons I came to you."
"One of the reasons?"
She blushed. "Umm, you are also, quite, umm..." she trailed off, her cheeks aflame, and Wheeler grinned.
"Lin?"
He watched as she took a deep breath. "You are also quite, umm, attractive to me."
Something inside of Wheeler leapt at her words, although he pushed it down forcefully, determined to remain cool and collected. "Am I?" he asked blandly. "You never said anythin' before, or gave any impression of that."
"You have noticed me?" Linka asked, chewing on her lip and giving away an uncharacteristic uncertainty. It was so innocent, and so charming, that his heart swelled with affection for her.
"You know I have," he said. "You're beautiful, Lin. And a man would have to be an idiot not to see that."
She shrugged, seemingly unaffected by his praise, although he felt her hand tremble within his. "Well, I have noticed you too," she told him. "And I liked what I saw. I still like what I see," she clarified.
Unaccountably, Wheeler's heart began to beat faster within his chest. "We're really gonna do this, aren't we?" he whispered.
"I hope so," she answered softly. "I want you, and if you want me too—"
Before she'd even finished her words he pulled her back to him, hauling her into his lap and pushing his hands into her hair. He tilted her head back, kissing her hard, and felt a warm surge of passion run through him when she opened her mouth and kissed him in return. There was a new fervour to his kissing, almost determination in a way, and when he trailed a finger from her hair to her neck and then traced her spine to the small of her back he felt her writhe slightly above him.
"You like it? When I touch you there?" he broke away to ask, echoing her earlier words, and she nodded rapidly, before cupping his cheeks within her hands and bringing his mouth back to hers. Emboldened, Wheeler brought one hand to her waist, holding her in place, while using the other to reach forward and cup a breast. She cried out, the sound muffled by his lips, but he relentlessly carried on, flicking a finger over the small bud of her nipple through her clothing, teasing and pleasing her all at once. She was breathless and warm in his arms, and he was aroused beyond measure by the thought of her.
"Lin," he murmured, pulling his mouth from hers and groaning when she shifted within his lap, ripples of pleasure rushing through him as she put movement and pressure where he needed it most. "Lin," he tried again, taking a deep breath and trying to bring clarity back to his mind. "Not here, okay? Not here."
At his words she stopped, pulling away from him slightly and looking into his eyes. Her skin was flushed, her lips were swollen and pink, and it was so sexy that Wheeler couldn't help himself from claiming them once more, kissing her hard. She laughed, pulling back from him and pushing his hands away from her skin.
"No, you are right," she agreed. "Not here."
He reached for her again, pressing his lips to hers and cupping her breast once more. "Fuck it," he murmured, before dropping his mouth to her shoulder and biting gently into the soft nape of skin. "Don't listen to me. I'm an idiot. Here is fine."
She smiled, dropping her head back and giving him further access to her neck and shoulders. "We do not have time—"
"Trust me, the way I'm feelin', this won't take long."
She laughed at that, pushing him away and coming to a stand. "No, not here," she said again firmly, dusting the sand from her legs. "Later."
"When?" he asked, looking up at her. He didn't mean to sound impatient, or demanding, but he feared it sounded that way. Frustrated with himself, he ran a hand through his hair and stood, taking a deep breath. "Sorry," he apologised. "I don't want to put any pressure on you."
But Linka only smiled at him. "Tonight. After dinner," she decided. "I will come to your cabin after I have spent some time with Gregor."
It was like the sun dipping behind a cloud, how cold Wheeler's skin seemed to turn. He scowled, kicking at the sand at his feet. "Right. Gregor."
Linka frowned. "He is a good man, Wheeler."
"Are you in love with him?"
It wasn't a question he had intended to ask, but the words fell from his mouth, direct and unfiltered from his mind, and sat like a stone between them. He watched Linka cross her arms across her chest and chew on her lip, and the cold he had felt just moments before turned into an ice that travelled up his spine. She was considering his question, Wheeler realised. There wasn't a laugh, or an instant 'no'. There was no pause, followed by a snap for him to mind his own business. Instead, she was giving thought to the idea, weighing it up in her mind and coming to a conclusion. She's in love with him, Wheeler realised, a sick feeling settling in his stomach. She would've said 'no' by now if she wasn't.
"Gregor and I... we grew up in the same town," Linka explained, staring off at the horizon, squinting in the now strong morning sun. "He and I were friends growing up, and I have always admired him. When we went to high school, he was so popular with all the girls — you have seen for yourself how handsome and clever he is," Linka added, turning back to Wheeler with a soft smile. "For years, I suppose I had what you would call a..." she frowned slightly. "I do not know the right phrase, in English. I have, umm, it means uvlech'sya..." she frowned again, and Wheeler took her hand, leading her down the beach and back towards their cabins.
"Describe it for me, what you mean," he said. "Talk while you walk; it will help."
Linka nodded, keeping her hand, small and warm and perfectly fitted to his, within his grasp. "It was bittersweet, my affection for Gregor... Grisha, I called him. He was Grigori back then, before he moved to Paris—"
"Wait, what do you mean, he moved to Paris?" Wheeler asked.
Linka stopped, giving him a wry smile. "Did you not listen to a thing he said at dinner last night, Wheeler?"
Wheeler shrugged unapologetically. "Sorry. I was too busy thinkin' up ways to get you alone."
"Bozhe Moy," Linka exhaled, shaking her head at him. "Well, Gregor lives in Paris now. He is from my hometown, but he studies in Paris, at the University. He is a PHD candidate in third-world Economics."
There it was again, that slightly sick feeling in Wheeler's stomach. "Third world economics, hey?" He swallowed heavily. "He must be pretty smart then, right?"
"Yes," Linka nodded enthusiastically. "He is very clever. He was always head of the class—"
"What, even over you?" Wheeler asked in disbelief.
Linka blushed. "Well, no," she admitted, "but he was older than me, so in a different year and anyway, he always seemed so..." she trailed away, her blush deepening. "I liked him, Wheeler. He was so handsome, so witty, so clever. I liked him very much. I do not love him, to answer your question, I never have. But I do like him."
"Sounds like a crush," Wheeler remarked blithely, even while inside his stomach turned over. He felt oddly crushed himself, and he couldn't explain why.
"A crush, yes," Linka nodded slowly. "That is what I meant. There is no word for that in Russian... but yes, I had a crush on him. He never, umm, recepticled it though."
"You mean reciprocated," Wheeler muttered. He stopped, taking a deep breath. "Look, Lin, I saw the way that guy was lookin' at you yesterday. Maybe he didn't return your crush when you were growin' up, but now? I think you've got a chance there, Babe."
She turned to him, looking at him keenly. "You really think so?"
"Yeah," he replied, swallowing down his growing nausea. "Babe, maybe we shouldn't..." he paused. "Maybe we shouldn't," he repeated softly, unable to find the words.
Linka stared at him. "I thought you wanted to."
"I do," he replied quickly. "I really do. But your first time... it should be special, and with someone you love, Babe. If you and Gregor can find a way to make it work..."
Linka leaned forward, pressing her lips to his once more. Her kiss was soft, sweet and tender, and Wheeler closed his eyes, letting her scent drift over him and allowing himself to be washed away with the moment.
"You said yesterday you loved me," she whispered. "You are my best friend, Yankee, and I love you too. It will be special," she promised him.
He nodded, temporarily rendered mute by both her words and lips.
"Besides," she suddenly added. "With Gregor, I have a crush, but with you..." she gave a shy smile. "I have chemistry. There is something there between us, something I think worth exploring. Please do not change your mind."
He shook his head, kissing her once more. "My cabin," he muttered. "Tonight."
Wheeler lay on his bed, ignoring for the second time a flashing message on his phone. It was Trish, trying to set up a get together between them. Momentarily, Wheeler felt a flash of guilt. He liked Trish, he liked her a lot. She was good company, good in bed, and long term, he had a feeling they'd end up together. So, why was he treating her so terribly now? Why had he used her so badly this past weekend, only to ignore her completely two days later?
He knew why, though. Linka.
Linka had gotten under his skin and into his head, and Wheeler knew — he just knew — he had to see what happened between them. She'd been right, earlier, when she'd told him they had chemistry. They did have chemistry, strong and undeniable, and yes, they needed to explore that. Maybe once they had, he could move on with Trish and she could move on with Gregor, and —
Wheeler paused, running a hand tiredly over his eyes. For some reason, neither his mind nor body seemed to like that train of thought, and he was confused as to why.
It wasn't like he was in love with Linka or anything, he told himself firmly. She was his best friend, he adored her and loved spending time with her, but the heart-wrenching ache of love, actual love, was missing. So, why was he feeling like this? Why did thoughts of her with anyone else bother him? Why did he guard her affection in such a jealous fashion?
Frustrated, Wheeler stood, reaching up to turn on his ceiling fan. It was a hot, humid night, and a sheen of perspiration clung to his skin. He briefly considered taking a shower, but he'd had one already that morning, and he didn't like to waste water. So, he instead stripped his shirt from his body, throwing it into the pile of laundry in the corner, before collapsing back onto his bed, watching the fan's blades slowly rotate above him. He pushed down a throb of excitement that Linka would soon be there, that she might lie beside him on his bed and let him kiss her again like he had that morning, only this time — this time — there would be no 'later' or 'not here'. There would just be them, and privacy, and the muted light of late evening. It was a delicious thought.
He'd hardly had any time with her at all during the day. After their hazy morning kisses, she'd gone to meet Gregor for breakfast before taking him on a tour of Hope Island and their facility. Wheeler had gone to work as always, spending some time with Gi down by the reef before meeting up with the others for an outside late lunch. Linka had been there with Gregor, and Wheeler had watched with building resentment as the two smiled and talked quietly together. While Wheeler ate quietly, Gregor told them all about his postdoctoral ideas, including an intricate plan to end corruption in third world African nations that Kwame had listened to intently.
"African nations have tried for many years to end the corruption that is rife on the continent," he said gently. "It is a difficult and ambitious plan, Gregor."
"I could sit back and do nothing," Gregor replied seriously. "Or I could try. I hope for success, Kwame, but I do not expect it. But I must try. It is the right thing to do."
Wheeler watched enviously as Linka gazed at Gregor with stars in her eyes. She was enamoured with him, Wheeler realised. And Gregor's kind-heartedness, added to his ambitious plans for improving the world, made him more than worthy of her. Wheeler shifted his food around his plate, before standing and heading for the kitchen. For a moment he stood by the sink, feeling lost and uncertain, before the rest of the Planeteers joined him. Gi suggested an afternoon swim, and the rest agreed instantly, though Wheeler shook his head.
"Wanna finish up on the maintenance work I started yesterday," he explained himself. "I'll swim later."
As Linka walked past him in the kitchen, ostensibly to get a glass of water, Wheeler momentarily laid a hand on the small of her back. It was brief, a small moment of warmth between them, but he felt her inhale sharply, turning to him with a curious look in her eyes.
"Later," she'd whispered, before walking away.
Well, later was now.
He must have drowsed in the evening heat, because a sudden knock on his door made him jump, and he sat up dazedly, running a hand through his hair. His door opened and closed, and there she stood, wrapped in the Orioles jacket he'd bought for her the year before, her hair damp and curling at the end.
She fingered her hair awkwardly, looking over at him with shy eyes. "I just took a shower," she explained. "It is still wet."
Wheeler stood without saying a word, walking over to her. For a moment he stared down at her and she stared back up. There was a heaviness in the air, desire mingling with the heat and a sense of anticipation, that sat upon their skin. Wheeler saw Linka swallow, and he smiled at her, before reaching over her shoulder and locking the door.
Already bare-chested himself, he tugged at the jacket she clutched to her chest, and Linka swallowed again as she allowed him to open it, peeling it from both her hands and shoulders and letting it slide to the floor.
She was in a white singlet and a matching pair of shorts, and he took a moment to gaze at her appreciatively. Her skin was shower-damp, her vest clinging to her skin in translucent patches, and he inhaled deeply as he traced a finger over the curve of her chest.
"Look at you," he murmured, as he allowed a finger to trace the outline of a nipple. "Throwin' crumbs."
She gave a nervous smile and he pulled her towards him, nuzzling her neck and hugging her against him. "Relax," he whispered into her ear. "I'm not gonna hurt you, okay? And tonight... tonight we're only gonna do two things."
"Two things?" Linka asked, her voice high and unnaturally stilted.
"Yeah," he smiled at her. "We're gonna kiss, and we're gonna talk about the rules."