“Idemandan answer, Brando Fausti!”
He took my arms and kept them clasped around his neck as he brought us both below the surface. I sputtered when we came up. He only laughed. He had gills instead of lungs.
“Did I steal your body?” he said.
“We’re not talking about me.”
“You first. I’m not budging.”
“All right. Yes. Well, no. I mean. You stole my lust. Which led me to give you my body.”
“Your lust, ah?”
“Never mind.” Ihmphedat his head.
He turned me around so that I was forced to face him, my legs wrapped around his waist.
“You were on the right track, baby. Just lacked something more specific. Lust is fleeting. Love has the real sticking power. You stole my rib, then my heart, therefore, I gave you my love and my soul.” His hands roved even lower, coming to cup my bottom. His fingers slipped underneath the bathing suit, and I shivered. Even under the water, his body was warm against my legs. “Answer this. What shields all those vital organs—and something that needs a home?”
“The soul,” I whispered, answering hissomething that needs a homeriddle. Then I answered the other. “The body.”
“Yeah.” He squeezed, but in a way that kept me in place instead of making me want to squirm. “So it goes without saying. I gave you that too.”
He kept me in place with his arms as I let go of him, and my hands drifted slowly over his shoulders, drawing long strings of water over his bronze skin. “All mine,” I whispered.
“Yeah. Now kiss me—since you own me.”
“You own me too,” I said, before I kissed him, slow and languorous.
Then three great roars pulled my lips from his, and all I could do was form an “O” with my mouth as our three sons attacked their father.
He laughed as he threw them playfully off. As their heads popped up out of the water, smiles on their faces, determination in their eyes, he growled back, going after them.
Mia swam over to me and we held hands, hovering on our backs, kicking our legs. Floating together in a weightless heaven.
33
Brando
Ihad been dreaming of a delicate-sounding music box when a hammer came down and smashed the priceless object into millions of pieces that shone in the sun, stronger than the glare off a windshield during a hot summer’s midday.
The hammer had made me tense, but at the same time, bringing a sub dream into focus—all the glistening shards of glass that had busted off the car Nemours had run into that tree.
Instead of reminding me of endless diamonds, rubies came to mind. My wife’s blood coating their jagged sharpness.
Even in sleep, the impact made me sit straight up, sweat coating me from head to toe.
Running a hand over my chest, I reached out and touched her. Her bare skin was a cool balm to the heat of mine. My temperature rose in times of stress—attempting to burn through the threat.
Taking a deep breath, I inhaled the smell of roses drifting from her skin, allowing it to take the place of other unforgettable scents. Acrid smoke, iron from the vein, and burnt rubber. The smell of my own fear still clung to me, full of musk and bitterness.
“Hmm?” she murmured when I traced her lines in the dim light, my fingertip raising goosebumps on her flesh.
We had decided to stick around Austin for a while, until the end of summer, and she had gained some of the color she’d lost. We were still night and day, but underneath her skin, I could see the touch of gold she had absorbed from the sun. The gilded color set off her auburn hair and emerald eyes, making her almost glow with imbued health.
The pain in my chest eased, and the breath in my lungs came easier. Bending lower, I kissed her ear and whispered one word, “Sleep.”
“I can’t,” she mumbled sleepily. “Not if you keep touching…ah,” she sighed when I started making circles on her back with my fingertip, my other hand deep in her hair massaging her scalp, then moving to her neck.
