Page 66 of Never Tear Us Apart
‘This is my perfect spot,’ he tells me. ‘See? There’s a little bit of shade here to lie in, nice soft sand, big flat rocks if you want to sunbathe. And it’s just a short climb to the top of that cliff, and there’s a farmhouse where they will sell you a quart of milk and a little bread for only two or three times the market value.’
‘How many poor unsuspecting girls have you brought here?’ I ask him, still wrapped from his view by the sea. His body shimmers in the sun, a glorious thing as beautiful as a Michelangelo
‘Precisely none,’ Danny tells me. ‘I haven’t brought anyone here before – it’s my place.’ He crosses over to the rocks, rummaging around, and brings out an old leather knapsack. ‘I come here to just be plain old Danny Beauchamp. It’s where I like to draw or read.’ He takes out a stack of what look like sketchbooks and a collection of pencils.
‘An artist, too,’ I say.
‘Not really – more of a doodler. An artistic temperament doesn’t do well in war – not when we are required to be cold-blooded killers six days a week.’ He pauses for a moment, staring at his feet. ‘Anyhow, I stashed my stuff out here when I first found this spot, and I keep it to myself. Got a couple of books out here, too, if you want to read?’
‘It’s lovely,’ I tell him.
‘So, are you going to come out of the sea, or will you just stay there until you dissolve?’ Danny asks.
‘Will you turn around then?’ I ask. ‘This dress will not leave much to the imagination.’
‘No,’ Danny says. ‘I don’t think I will. I want to see you, Maia. I want to look at you, if you’ll let me.’
Even in the cold water, I feel the heat of desire kindle in the pit of my belly. Slowly, half afraid and half impatient, I peel myself out of the shelter of the sea. It takes effort not to cover my body with my arms, but I don’t. Instead, I watch Danny as I wade onto the shore, aware of how the fabric of the yellow dress clings to every curve and dimple of my body.
He lets out a long yearning sigh as I walk across the sand to stand just before him.
‘May I?’ he asks.
I nod.
With infinite care, Danny unbuttons the mismatched buttons, his hands trembling just as they did after the crash. This time, I don’t try to help. I stand perfectly still until he has opened my dress to my navel, letting him peel it off my shoulders and lower it until I am able to step out of it. With great care, he spreads the dress out on a rock in the full glare of the sun, before turning back to me.
‘Can I hold you, Maia?’ he asks, his voice hoarse.
‘Yes, please,’ I say.
First, he puts his hands on my waist; his eyes meet mine. I expect him to kiss me, but instead he just draws my cold and shivering body close to his. His arms tighten around my waist, and mine curve up to encircle his back. The top of my head fits neatly under his chin, my lips rest against the salty skin of his neck, and I feel the pound of his heart against my breasts, crushed against his chest.
Our bodies dry and warm in unison as we hold one another close and still, each aware we have something very precious and fragile in our tender grasp, something we both want to protect.
‘I would like to kiss you very much,’ Danny says. ‘Would that be all right?’
Pulling away a little, I look up at him, and wrapping my arms around his neck, I kiss him. When our lips meet, they seem to know exactly how to fit together. I feel a moan vibrate in his throat as my mouth opens for him, and we press our bodies even closer together, lost in the most delicious connection I have ever known. It feels like we could stay here in this embrace for the rest of time, whatever order it might come in, but Danny steps away.
‘This is not what I intended, I promise,’ he tells me, running his hands through his hair. ‘I had a plan to woo you – nice and gentle and slow. I wanted to share this place with you and talk about art and books. I thought maybe, later today, I might try to hold your hand. But there you are looking like you do, and I can’t think straight.’
‘It’s OK,’ I tell him. ‘I feel the same way about you, Danny. I want you, too.’
Danny takes a step back. ‘Maia, I need you to know, I’m not the kind of guy who takes advantage of a girl. That’s not how I want it to be between us. I want it to be right, proper and good. For us to get to know each other, like folk should, with walks and picnics and holding hands, before we ever get to . . .’ He looks at me standing there in my underwear. ‘It’s just that you are so goddamn beautiful, and I can’t take my eyes off of you.’
All I want is to lay him down on this beach right now and let my tongue explore every inch of his body. But Danny wants to do it ‘right’ the way that is right in his mind, in his world, in his time, and to him, we mean more than desire and longing and lust, all of which are pulsing in the air around us like little sparks of lightning.
For Danny, we mean love. We are in love. And for Danny, love is an endless thing that has a lifetime to discover the hows and whys of its existence between the two people thatcreated it. He wants to wait to show me how much I mean to him. I can only adore him all the more for that.
I reach for my dress and find that it is almost dry already, so I slip it on over my head, buttoning it up as fast as I can.
‘I’ll wait for you, Danny,’ I tell him simply. ‘We don’t have to hurry as much as we might like to.’
‘Here.’ He scrambles up to a small, high cave in the cliff wall to retrieve some books and sketchbooks, along with a battered, sandy and motheaten old rug, which he lays out on the sand. ‘This will stop you getting sandy some. And here’s a cushion for your head.’
Longing still hums in every fibre of my body as I lie down on the rug, and Danny takes his place next to me. He stretches out his arm and I move into the crook of his shoulder, my head resting on his chest. His hand rests on my hip.
‘How long till the tide comes in?’ I ask, trailing my fingertips down his chest.
