13. April 10, 2023 #3
Studying their connection, she loved the contrast of his tanned skin against her pale ivory, and she focused on their smoothness.
His hands were free from calluses, probably from all the ocean water and applications of wax on his board.
That, and she imagined that his time as a surgeon had taught him to take care of his hands better than most.
She turned her gaze back to their entwined fingers when she felt his thumb brushing gently back and forth across her own.
Something happened to her at that moment, and the air felt charged.
It was something she’d never felt before, and it was both thrilling and frightening at the same time.
Like she was at the top of a cresting wave, hanging over the precipice and about to free-fall into the water below to a watery grave.
“This okay?” he asked.
She looked up at him. No. It was not anywhere close to okay. There was only one thing to do.
She swallowed, smiled, and nodded the lie.
It was one thing to know she was going to get hurt in the end. It was something completely different to understand that pain now, long before it happened. One consensual grasp of her hand, and she wanted this for real.
They sat quietly, holding hands for several minutes.
She knew she must be thinking about something, but her emotions were controlling the show.
They made her feel as if her brain was a sea of organized chaos, each thought a fish in a school, all sensing danger but unsure how to proceed through the waters—instead darting this way, then that way, trying to make sense of what she was feeling.
It was Demon’s voice that finally scattered the chaos and brought her abruptly out of her blind panic. “You sure about this, fireball? We’re both going to get burned. Badly.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“When was the last time you were in a relationship?” he asked. Then, as if sensing he’d stepped over a line, he backpedaled. “It’s not really my business, so it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me.”
“No, it’s fine. Never, really. ”
She saw a flash of fear cross his face.
She laughed. “Don’t worry, Demon. I’m not some sweet, innocent thing.
I’ve ‘dated,’ if that’s the term we want to use, but rarely, and never more than a dinner, maybe two, if he kept my interest. Couple of times a year, maybe?
Tribe doesn’t leave a lot of options open.
” She shrugged. “Never met anyone I liked enough to keep around.”
“I’m sorry. I was just surprised. Not about the fact that you’d had lovers. Just that you were a one-night kind of woman.”
“It’s okay. I get it. Most women aren’t one-night types.
It’s funny,” she confessed. “I’ve never really seen what the big deal was.
I mean, I get it. It’s a biological function.
People get aroused, and they have sex. I don’t go looking for it, and I’ve left plenty of dates without going home or to a hotel with someone.
But once it’s over? I’ve never looked back at it. ”
“Then you’re not having great sex.”
She shrugged. “I’ve gotten what I need out of it.”
“Definitely not great sex. That’s just survival sex. Keeps you in control until the pressure builds up again.”
“A vibrator can do the same thing.”
“That’s even worse than an anonymous, unemotional feck.
I’m not saying they don’t have their uses, and I’m not saying you have to be in love with your partner, but there does need to be a connection.
No one can connect to a device, no matter how many features, speeds, or styles of vibration it has.
Rubbing one out is just a pressure valve release, but it wouldn’t be enough in the long run.
There’s no connection. No spontaneity. No learning curve to what someone likes or doesn’t like.
And that’s half the fun of sex. Discovering what turns your partner on. ”
A horn blaring outside the car disrupted the moment of tension, and it seemed to remind Demon of something. He reached into his pants pocket. “Since we’re discussing our real fake marriage, you need this.” He opened the box he’d withdrawn so that the contents faced her .
She thought she kept from audibly inhaling, but she didn’t dare look at Demon to see if he’d noticed.
Inside the box were three rings. One was a simple platinum band meant for a man’s hand, a series of waves in infinity engraved on the surface.
The other two were a matching set of platinum rings for a woman.
The engagement ring was a circle-cut sapphire that interlocked in a band that was shaped like two waves overlapping, the channels filled with diamonds.
“Can’t be newlyweds without rings,” he murmured as she stared.
She searched for something to say to keep the moment light. “The waves are very you.”
“Yeah, Midas has a thing for that kind of stuff. Did you know he recommended the collar designer for Flame to TB? The guy is a hopeless romantic.”
As if she were outside of herself, Cherry watched as Demon removed the women’s rings, interlocked them, and reached for her hand to put it on her.
The entire time, she sat stunned. Afraid to move.
Afraid to breathe. But it wasn’t in panic.
It was a moment she wanted to remember. To seal into the corners of her brain to take out later, when things were dark or desperate or lonely after this experiment known as “Demon and Cherry” failed to navigate the channel between Odysseus’ monsters, Scylla and Charybdis.
By the end, she would be chewed up, spit out, and swept to the depths with no hope of survival.
His next words broke her thoughts. “Midas put a tracker in the wedding band portion. Even if the sapphire gets damaged, it’s still in the ring, so never take it off.
You have your internal trackers, but after what happened in Africa with Nemo’s secondary tracker, he’s paranoid and wanted a third one on you that was on an outer level. ”
Of course. A tracker. To find her if something went wrong. Not a vow between them. That could never be.