Christie Road

"Does my back look burned to you?"

He almost hadn't heard her, lulled into a half-sleeping daze by the shushing of the waves and the golden warmth baking into his skin. Rolling onto his side, he lifted his sunglasses and examined the smooth skin carefully, letting his fingers trail over the curve of her shoulder perhaps a little longer than necessary.

"A little pink on the shoulder blades, maybe, but not bad. You wanna go inside for a while and get out of the sun?" Without thinking, he bent his head to brush his lips against that soft, damnably irresistible shoulder. She smelled so good, coconut and wildflowers, like an island distilled into a delicate liqueur and sipped lazily from the comfort of a hammock swaying in the breeze.

She sighed. "I hate to miss a minute of this, it's so beautiful. I'll just put on a tee shirt and look like a dork. Stupid fishbelly white skin!"

Playfully he took her arm and flipped her over, almost rolling her off the blanket and into the sand.

"Hey!" she giggled, but before she could protest any further, he lowered his mouth to hers, tasting the sweet strawberry of her lips.

"That skin is exquisite, missy, and I'll thank you to not forget it again!" he teased, breaking the kiss to wag a playful finger at her. "It happens to belong to a singularly beautiful, mysterious lady of my acquaintance, and I'll not have you criticizing her!"

She stared up at him for a long moment, a look of wonder on her elven face, her eyes the color of the water that lapped foaming at their toes. "This is too perfect, you know," she said at last, toying with the hemp necklace that dangled from his neck. "Perfect things have a way of not lasting."

It was the first time she had hinted at the shadow that sometimes passed across her heart, and he gently steered the tone back into the light. "If you jinx this day and make it rain, I swear I'll fill your sneakers with toothpaste while you're asleep tonight!" he chuckled, tweaking her nose, and was relieved when she laughed with him.

It was August, the crowning glory of summer in California, and exactly six months to the day after her eighteenth birthday. In the aftermath of the attack, it had been difficult to find reasons to celebrate, until he hit upon the idea of an Unbirthday, half a year after her real one. Surprisingly, she had been delighted at the idea, and he suspected that it had something to do with the fact that she hadn't had a birthday party since that memorable one when she had turned thirteen, just before her world had begun to spin off its axis. So he had made it his mission to give her a day she'd always remember, and so far it seemed to be working like a charm.

She had tried hard over the last month, putting on a brave smile and going about her usual activities as though there had never been a nightmare named Donnie. She didn't talk about it, and Billie didn't ask, but he had learned quickly that locking the deadbolt when they got home seemed to put her more at ease, and that it was better if he made some sound when he came into a room where she was, coughing or shuffling his feet, so he didn't startle her.

He knew, too, that there was an unspoken line that he tried hard never to cross, making sure his kisses were gentle and his caresses innocent, no matter how his heart might be raging. For her, he could hold his passion in check, for...well, as long as she needed him to. His oath to be her hero, her protector, had become as much a part of him as she had.

What she didn't know was that he lay awake beside her sometimes at night, watching her. She wasn't aware that she slept restlessly, her hands sometimes flying away from her to fend off some unseen threat, or that she had twice cried out Billie's name, and he had gently pulled her to him, cradling her against his chest, until she drifted into quieter slumber. She only knew that she awoke every morning to his smile, his arms holding her safe and close as he whispered "Good morning" into her hair.

And that was just how he wanted it.

The little cloud passed as quickly as it had come, and her face brightened again. "You want to swim?" she said, pushing him up and scrambling to her feet. She scampered into the water, and with a devilish grin, she turned as he was wading in to join her and leaped into his arms, knocking him off balance and sending them both laughing and splashing into the warm waves. When they emerged, he scowled at her in pretend menace, and shook his hair like some freshly-bathed English sheepdog, scattering a spray of droplets at her as she squealed in protest. They splashed each other joyously, reveling in the reckless fun of it.

She was radiant, an ivory-skinned Venus risen from the waters, and the rivulets that cascaded down her neck and across the gentle swell of her bosom seemed to him like strings of diamonds. Her glossy hair streamed down her neck, the white streak turned to platinum in the midday sun, and the shadowed dip of her collarbone seemed carved from alabaster. His breath quickened, his heart beating wildly--not from the exertion of their horseplay, though he would have blamed it on that if she had asked.

"Okay, I guess I'm done now," she giggled breathlessly at last, and he cursed himself for letting his eyes linger over the cleft between her breasts, the way they rose and fell so gracefully... "I just wanted to have one more splash before we packed it in. Let's go back and shower so we have time to get my camera before we hit the road." She held her hand out to him, and the smile she flashed at him was brighter than the sun that bounced sparkling off the waves.

She had asked him for only one thing for her unbirthday present. It had been five and a half years since she had seen her mother, and now that she had put some of her demons behind her, she was ready to close that chapter as well. Tonight they planned to drive up to Rodeo, visiting both their mothers and sharing with them the news that they were now living together. He half expected that she would be nervous, but if she was, she showed no sign of it. In fact, she seemed to be looking forward to the trip.

He reached to take her hand, and then hesitated, his cheeks slowly turning crimson. The warm water lapped around his waist, but beneath the surface, his body was ignoring his vow to keep his thoughts under control. He shifted, the nylon lining of his trunks constricting him uncomfortably.

"What's the hurry?" he said, a little too cheerfully. "I thought you didn't want to miss a minute of this glorious day!" He hoped she couldn't hear the awkwardness in his voice, and realized his toes were digging into the sand like startled turtles.

Her body sliced smoothly through the water toward him, wavelets licking at the underside of her bikini top. She stopped only a few inches in front of him, and wound her arms around his waist, her head tilted to one side as she lifted her lips to meet his, soft and sweet. He groaned silently, trying to will his rebellious manhood into submission, but when she slid her hands up across his chest, laying her head on his shoulder as she embraced him, it was more than he could bear.

"This day couldn't be any more perfect if--" she began, and stopped as he took her gently by the arms, taking a reluctant step back from her. His emerald eyes lowered self-consciously, and he found he couldn't raise them to meet hers. "What is it, Billie?" she asked, touching his cheek lightly, fingertips brushing his earlobe. It was as though every motion was carefully planned to break his self-control--a ridiculous thought, he knew, but he was wretchedly miserable, trying in vain to master his feelings.

"Just--just a little sunburn, I guess," he stammered, his voice breaking on the first word.

"I'm so sorry," she smiled, and she lifted his hand to her lips, kissing the roughened knuckles gently. "Sounds like time to take a break for both of us. C'mon, I'll get the blanket."

He watched longingly as she made her way out of the water, her back curving smoothly down to her slender legs, bare feet arching into the sand, and tried desperately to think of anything else. Baseball. Transmission adjustments. His great aunt Nancy's Christmas fruitcake.

It wasn't working.

"Here you go," she called, and she waded a few yards back into the water, holding a towel out to him. He reached for it gratefully, wrapping it around his middle, and followed her to help shake the sand out of the blanket and fold it into a neat square. They trudged hand in hand back to the car, oblivious to everyone around them, and as they talked, he breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn't had to explain his...enthusiasm.

She took the first turn in the shower, the vanilla scent of her body wash drifting under the door as he took off his damp trunks and dropped them into the laundry basket. She hummed softly, some contented melody that he couldn't quite place, and he stood listening for a moment, smiling at the sound of her happiness. Just as he was winding the towel back around his middle, the water stopped and he could hear the scrape of the curtain rings on the rod.

"All yours!" she called brightly through the door. He bent and opened the dresser drawer, rummaging for a pair of shorts and a tee shirt, and had just turned back toward the bathroom when he collided with Jazz, her hands full of wet clothing and a hairbrush. The bundle fell to the floor, and she squatted to retrieve it, one arm clutching the towel wrapped around her body.

When she stood, her towel had slipped, revealing one softly curved, pink-tipped breast, and Billie's breath caught in his chest. "What a klutz I am," she said, rolling her eyes, and he realized she was completely unaware of her exposed state. "Excuse me--after you!" and she motioned him ahead of her.

He stood rooted, forcing himself to keep looking at her eyes. "Uh, you um--I just--uh--" Carefully he reached for the top edge of the towel, lifting it gingerly to cover her.

Jazz glanced down to see what he was doing, and her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, damn, I--thanks, Billie," she said, her face flaming. "Like I said, klutz."

He was speechless. For weeks now, he had shared a bed with her, lying curled against her warm, soft body, and through sheer will, he had kept himself from asking for more. She had needed him to be her safe haven, and for her, he had been able to ignore the desire that had tormented him in the small hours of the night. But it hadn't been easy.

What he felt for her was so different than the casual, animal lust that had kept him with Lani for a time, and he loved it--he loved her. He wanted to be a better man for her, someone she could count on and look up to, and most of all, someone she could trust. That was the most important of all.

His dreams, though... In his dreams there were no dark memories to steer clear of, no skeletons in her closet that he was afraid of waking. There, he had been free to revel in her beauty, claiming the secrets of her lovely body as his own, and oh, the wonders he had discovered there. In that secret place, she was a creature of abandon, meeting his passion with her own until they had set the night ablaze...

Her head was lowered in embarrassment, and he cupped her chin lightly, lifting her face to look into her eyes. For a moment, he simply stared into them, the blue of a cloudless sky, guileless and innocent. There was no fear there, only love and complete trust.

The hunger inside him made him feel like a predator, but he couldn't tear his eyes from her. He was dying of thirst, and she was cool, clear water, mere inches away. He had only to reach out to her, to touch that finely carved collarbone, trail his fingertips down the gentle valley of her bosom, and he could finally quench the fire that was rising to an inferno in his brain.

Billie watched, as though it belonged to someone else, as his hand slowly lifted toward her shoulder. She stood quietly, her eyes never leaving his face, but was her breath coming quicker now? He couldn't be sure--the pounding of his own heart was like a drumbeat in his ears, and it was warm, so warm. Did she feel it, too? Did that explain the pink in her cheeks, the sheen on her forehead?

There was no hiding now; his hardness had pulled the towel taut across his hips, leaving him betrayed by his body. Passion was pulling him faster now, into a whitewater rapids that would soon be too strong to fight. He wanted her so badly, needed her so desperately...

He groaned, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back. He willed his hand to fall as well, breaking the touch that had seemed to feed his very soul. He had to stop, had to do something to turn off his writhing brain. A cold shower, that was what he needed...

He turned toward the bathroom, gritting his teeth. There would be time to apologize later, when he was in control of himself again. He would explain that he had gotten carried away by the day they'd spent, and the unexpected sight of her nakedness. Hopefully it wouldn't make things awkward between them.

As he reached for the doorknob, a gentle hand touched his back. He stopped, but didn't turn to look at her. If he did, he was lost.

"Billie, don't go yet," she whispered. "That's the second time today you've pulled away from me. Have I done something wrong?" Her voice sounded uncertain, but without anger.

"God no, Jazz," he said huskily. "It's just me, I--" He trailed off, not knowing how the hell to tell her without sounding like a pervert.

She moved until she was in front of him, looking up at him with those astonishing blue eyes. "If you're having second thoughts about all this, I'll understand. We're friends, no matter what, right?"

"Second thoughts?" He shook his head in confusion.

"About us, being together. If it's too weird, I can move my stuff in the other bedroom. I'm just grateful to you for letting me stay here with you. It makes me feel safe, you know?"

"Wait--you think I don't want us to be together?" The irony of it was too much, and he chuckled out loud, shaking his head. "Girl, when you get it wrong, you really get it wrong."

His hand caressed her elbow, sliding up to that treacherous shoulder that had started this whole thing. She didn't flinch or pull away, as he was afraid she might. It's now or never, he thought, and if I make an ass of myself, then I'll sleep on the fucking couch from now on. But I have to know...

"C'mere," he whispered.

When their lips touched, he closed his eyes, and slowly melted into her, their tongues soft and searching. Her sweetness filled his mouth, the first strawberry wine of summer, making his head swim and his knees weak. Creamy skin, smooth under his fingertips, her neck sloping to that delicate curve behind her jaw where her heartbeat--yes!--pounded as quickly as his own. His thumb, brushing against her velvet earlobe, making her sigh, making her head lean to the side to let his lips caress her throat.

Soft murmurs told him what he wanted to hear, and his arm behind her back pulled her closer, so close that it was hard to tell where his body ended and hers began. Goosebumps rose on his arms as she twined her fingers through his hair, still salt-sticky and tousled from the ocean wind.

"I'd rather die than do anything to hurt you or upset you," he said, his lips against her cheek. "So if you're okay with this, you gotta tell me now, or else I need to keep that appointment with that cold shower."

As she lifted her other arm to circle his neck, the towel she was wearing slithered to the floor like a discarded skin, and she kicked it aside with a smile that radiated happiness and contentment.

"I've been waiting a long time for this, Billie Joe. I told you, you were always the only one. How about you teach me what I've been missing out on?"

He never stopped looking into her eyes as he lowered her gently onto the bed. "Time for school, sweet baby," he smiled, and turned off the light.