Layers

by Sigal Ehrlich

  Leaning closer to me, our noses inches away, he whispers, “I love you” then softly kisses my startled lips. “I am so in love with you, Hayley,” he breathes, his eyes boring into me.

  Once his words sink in, the air in my lungs escapes, leaving them utterly void as my heart wrenches in the most severe manner. Intense, unfamiliar emotions twirl in me and I try to tag along as they sweep me in one direction—the direction of this incredible man who just told me he loves me. Overwhelmed by the deepest sensation of adoration I hug him tight in an almost painful grip for long stretched beats then pull back and kiss him with everything I have. I breathe him in as deeply as I can. The sea, the sunset, our closeness, him, his words. I want to stay in this moment forever.

  We embrace, folding into each other, kissing till the wind starts swaying us toward the deeper waters.

  Chapter 27: By the Fire

  Daniel hands me a towel as he unloads the back of the car. Piling up several logs he brought with us into a cone shape, he lights a bonfire.

  “You really rocked out there,” he grins at me appreciatively under the dim evening light, to which I respond with a bow.

  “So did you,” I send him a thin smile, still tantalized by his earlier declaration.

  “I always do, out there.” He winks. You always do, period. “Beer or wine?” he asks, looking into the cooler.

  “Beer,” I answer, taking small steps toward him, closing the distance between us.

  “Always the right answer,” he murmurs under his breath clinking my bottle with his. Before closing the door he takes a guitar out of the trunk.

  Guitar? D plays the guitar?

  Sitting by the warm fire with my suit peeled halfway to my waist, I’m mesmerized as I watch him over the dancing red and yellow flames. Waves of the fire’s warmth carried by the night’s gentle wind flutter in my face. He gazes at me under his lashes with a thin smile. His face is briefly illuminated by the play of the flames back and forth, and obscured as the light fades away. This game of shadow and light swaying on his handsome features enthralls me every time another small part of his face is enhanced by the soft blaze.

  He tunes the strings of the guitar cradled in his arms, the flames now illuminating his eyes a reddish-orange shade. I stare at him through the flames as they link with mine for one brief moment. His lips curve up, pulling his sensual scar with them. I can’t take my eyes off him, nor do I want to.

  His long fingers turn to deftly run over the stretched strings, the first chords scattering into the night air. Almost inaudibly, he softly murmurs the lyrics, his voice low, throaty. He lifts his eyes up to meet mine and captivates them; I hug my bent legs, embracing myself, utterly dazzled by him. He is playing my song. Something is happening inside of me: these are not just raging butterflies winding through my core. My entire body clenches to one pleasantly aching, tight knot. A lump slowly swells in my throat and I try very hard to prevent tears from rolling down my cheeks, but without much luck. I am too emotional and my willpower betrays me. The music stops at once, and Daniel’s eyes turn wide open, wide open and concerned.

  “Hales, what’s wrong?” his soft voice demands in alarm. Not waiting for my reply he moves closer to me, enveloping me, nuzzling my hair. He tilts my head to even our stares. “Am I that bad?” He tries to humor me, wiping my tears with his thumbs then bends to flutter gentle kisses on my eyes.

  I mutter between hushed sobs, “Bad and you don’t exist in the same universe.” And I crush my lips to his, kissing him with all my unspoken emotions incorporated into that one kiss, letting myself dissolve into his embrace.

  When I come up for air after a few extended moments I manage to finally say what was processing at the back of my mind throughout the day. “I can’t believe how much I love you.” His embrace tightens and I rest my head on his shoulder whispering, “I love you so much, Daniel.”

  He slowly relaxes the intensity of his embrace, and tilts his head back, that tender new stare again in his eyes. A small timid smile forms on his lips and he kisses me with an all-absorbing tenacity. “That’s no reason to shed tears, my sweet Hayley.” He flutters powder-like kisses on my eyes again, lingering on one then the other, ending his kissing my tears away tour on my lips. “It’s a reason to do a lot of other pleasuring things, but not shed tears, baby.”

  I snicker at the innuendo and my mouth curves over his, my smile mirroring the one rooted on his lips.

  “Come here.” He helps me nestle between his legs; I lean back and burrow in his firm, guarding embrace, his loving embrace. When I’m cuddled, all wrapped in his calming cage, he kisses my neck with little feathery kisses, forming a dense, invisible trail toward my collarbone.

  “I do love you,” he whispers to my skin and I rest my head on his shoulder, losing myself in this touch, in him.

  Soon as the night wraps us up in its arms and we’re fenced in by a blanket of darkness and the embers of the fire, we make love, and it’s different this time. It’s not our uncontrollable attraction and lust for each other that lead us to pleasure. The physical connection is driven by our pure deep emotions. It is a slow, tender, all-absorbing union: we are connected on so many levels as we become one.

  Chapter 28: Cramps and Revelations

  “Good morning,” I whisper, beaming lazily at Daniel, weary; one hazel eye blinks, adjusting to the light.

  “Hey.” His voice is heavily gruff.

  “What’s the time?” I yawn.

  “Who cares,” he murmurs with a drowsy smile, lightly scratching his bare, taut stomach. “Come here, you,” he says, placing his arm open for me to cradle in.

  “Ouch, ouch, goodness, ouch,” I cry in agony.

  “What’s up?” he sits up at once, alert, though somewhat amused at my whining.

  “I’m having the worst post-surf muscle cramps; everything from my shoulders to my butt is stiff and sore.”

  “Your butt is stiff and sore?” His eyes shoot down to where the alleged soreness is. “I can take care of that,” he offers, too enthusiastically, smiling with a mischievous twinkle. His hair mimics his intent: it’s wildly messed up, sexy.

  “That’s what you managed to hear out of the entire sentence?” I feign a frown but my mouth gives in to curving upwards.

  “Now, seriously Hales. What’s the damage? How painful is it?”

  “Pretty sore, but I’ll survive, though, in immense pain.”

  He chuckles. Checking his watch, contemplative, he then suggests, “It’s half past eleven, let’s just lie back today and then go to dinner at my mom’s.”

  “Dinner at your mother’s?”

  “Yes.”

  Simple answer, an indisputable point. Case closed.

  “Didn’t you want to run it by me first?”

  “I just did, no?” he responds dryly, rolling his eyes.

  Why do I even bother?

  “I can rest and you can go surf. That was the purpose of this weekend, wasn’t it?”

  “Purpose of the weekend was to have you here, all to myself.”

  I grin.

  “The surfing is just a perk,” he adds with a wink.

  “Come,” he orders, and before I can even try to object he lifts me over his shoulder as though I were a weightless little kid, legs waving in the air.

  “What are you doing? Put me down.”

  “Hush, baby, I’m not taking any risks when your supreme ass is in subject.”

  “Daniel …” I squeak, my voice climbing a few notes up the scale, but he disregards me, completely caught up in his self-entertainment.

  “Sit still,” he commands, settling me on the bathroom countertop. “Open your mouth,” he orders, resolute, barely able to mask his smirk.

  “Hail commandant,” I murmur.

  “Mach schnell, meine liebe Hayley.” He leers at my perplexed expression, and answers my silent question. “My mom is German.”

  “And that meant?”

  “More quickly, my dear Hayley.” My lips pull up, h
umored.

  He takes his toothbrush, slowly adds toothpaste and then, to my dismay, he starts brushing my teeth.

  “Hey,” I mumble with the toothbrush in my mouth. He takes it out, appearing impenitent though his eyes are nothing but playful.

  “You were saying?”

  I sigh, mouth full of foam.

  “I wash sheing …” I spit the excess into the sink under psycho’s smothering, observant gaze. How appealing he must think this is. “I was saying, I can do that. I’m not disabled, just a little sore.”

  He arches a scarred brow at me, shaking his head, a hint of a smile toying on his lips. “As I said, no risk where your ass is concerned. Now don’t make me repeat that.”

  “Or else,” I tease.

  He just rewards me with a cocked head and a skewed smile. I chuckle; it’s my turn to shake my head.

  “So hush now, and open wide.” He smirks. “Hush and open wide,” he repeats, murmuring under his breath, enjoying his little joke.

  I inwardly sigh, entertained.

  “Spit,” he demands playfully after a thorough brush. He pours some water onto his palm and rubs it gently on my face, then pats a towel to it till it dries. Standing back, he examines the results of his work and again, with no prior warning, pulls me up to the same position over his shoulder, making me giggle.

  We’re back at the bedroom. Well, what now? His carefree, playful behavior leaves me on the verge of hysterics. Laying me on the bed he turns to the walkthrough closet.

  “No moving,” he calls back, and I snort a short laughter. As he returns with the two tiny pieces that are my white, triangle bikini he looks even friskier than he was when he left a moment ago. Bending to the bed he first cautiously takes off my white tank top; then bending further he flutters kisses on my exposed breasts. Settling himself by my side he actually puts my bikini top on me, adjusting the string at the nape, then gently makes me lie sideways to tie the string on my back. Somehow I find all this dress-up arousing. Turning to lie on my back, I stretch my hand toward his boxers. He shakes his head disapprovingly.

  “There will be none of that,” he murmurs, composed, impassive to my bothered grimace.

  “Are you kidding me?” I frown.

  “No, I’m not kidding. Now, sex addict, should I repeat what I said before?” he says, dramatizing disapproval by twisting his mouth and knitting his brows. I gape at him. Is he serious?

  Ignoring my glare, he moves to the edge of the bed, shifting the balance of the mattress as he sits next to my hips. He casually bends to peel down my pale pink, lacy thong, and pauses to stare at my exposed lower body with a heated gaze. He then helps each of my feet to the designated part of the bikini bottom, and just before fully adjusting the garment into place he kisses a lengthy kiss on my center, making me squirm with want immediately, causing a serious spark in that area.

  “So, what exactly is this?” I ask, scowling.

  “A prelude.” He grins, one simple word with such a meaningful promise.

  “You’re killing me here.” I sink my head back to the mattress.

  He smirks and casually mutters, “When the embargo is over, I will compensate you, baby, I promise.”

  “You are so annoying, I’m serious.” He winks at me and I can’t hold the semi-angry stare anymore.

  “Oh Hales, good morning.” He kisses my mouth. “And, I love you,” he smiles and puts me back over his shoulder.

  And me you, to pieces.

  Continuing with his exaggerated nursing he sets me in one of the rattan chaise lounge by the pool, and serves us with cut fruits and coffee for breakfast.

  “Seriously, Daniel. You can go ahead and catch some waves. I’ll stay here and work on my tan.” I look up at him from lying between his spread legs, as he leans back on the cushioned frame of the gigantic, wicker lounger.

  “Maybe later, too comfortable to move now.” He side smiles at me behind his shades.

  “Where’s the music coming from?” I ask, looking around.

  “There’s a music center in the bar,” he nods toward the tropical-island style bar by the pool.

  “Quite an eclectic playlist, I’d say. I like it.”

  “It’s my Baja carols playlist,” he snorts, amused. “Baja exclusive, cannot be found in California.”

  “Carols?” I giggle. “This one is really good, it’s so mellow.” I say about the track that’s playing.

  “Charlotte O’Connor, if I am not mistaken. It’s ‘Shine On’,” he tells me.

  Resting his hand on mine, he slowly rubs his thumb over my knuckles. He slides down to lie next to me and pulls me toward him so my face is resting on his abs, combing my hair with light strokes. I kiss his taut muscles and close my eyes, utterly indulged.

  “Do you come here often?” I ask.

  “Is that a pick up line?” he laughs. “Cause you had me with that refined ‘fuck me’ when we first met.”

  I laugh and kiss his sun-warmed skin.

  “Every chance I get,” he answers, running the tips of his fingers down my spine.

  “So usually you surf and …?”

  “And I visit my mom. Sometimes I hang out with Rafael and his people.”

  I stroke his side, feeling his skin prickle under my touch.

  “Are they your friends?”

  “Friends.” He sounds mused, as though gauging the word. “I would go with surfing buddies.” He moves to tenderly massage my sore shoulders, gradually releasing the tension.

  “You don’t have many friends,” I state.

  “No, I don’t,” he answers, casually. I tilt my head up to look at him; even he can’t be indifferent to that.

  “How come?” A question begging to be asked.

  Looking somewhat impatient, he still answers. “I don’t trust people easily,” he explains. I find his explanation depressing; I can’t imagine what my life would look like without Tasha or Ian.

  “Why is that?”

  “It’s like dating, Hayley. The more money and publicity you’ve got and the more under the public eye you are, there are more people that try to get closer to you, and most have ulterior motives.” He lets out a forced breath.

  “What about friends from the past?”

  “Well my best buddy tried to screw me over big time and the rest, you know how it is, everyone is busy … living.”

  “How? What happened?” I prop up on my elbows, not able to hide my curiosity.

  Daniel’s lips twist; he lifts his shades to rest on his head and briefly runs a hand over his weary, absorbed face. I can feel his body below me stiffen.

  “He tried to sue me for the patent on my software, claiming it was fifty percent his.”

  I look at him with knitted brows, waiting for him to go on. He cups my cheek, his eyes drinking me in, making my tenseness subside somewhat. Then he smiles and I blink, uncertain where the conversation is going.

  “The hilarious part was,” he continues, “he wasn’t even a part of the process. His only connection to evolving the software from an idea to an actual product was that he hung out with me in bars back in college when I needed my breaks.” He smiles to himself, though his tapered eyes reflect pure irritation.

  “Meaning?” I demand, my desire to learn more about him piqued.

  “We were roommates. We actually came to USF together. I majored in computer science and he in literature.” Daniel pauses for a moment to scratch his temple, looking somewhat pensive, perhaps reminiscing. “When I came up with the idea of securing the net I obviously confided in my best friend. At the time and throughout the process I used to bore him with my doubts in making decisions. Given he was neither a technological person nor had any background whatsoever in programming, he contributed nothing to my problem but being a friend and an attentive listener.”

  As he proceeds, his expression gradually obscures. “Once I actually had the beta version and got some investors to have a look at it, which finally led to the beginning of Stark SW, he began to show more i
nterest. I think it was when the first time a rumor about a potential deal was mentioned in one of the magazines that I got an actual letter from his lawyer. I couldn’t believe my eyes, Hales. I thought it was one of his juvenile pranks. I almost congratulated him for pulling it off.”

  He shakes his head, his mouth coiled with bitterness. “When I confronted him,” he resumes, “the bastard actually had the nerve to look me in the eyes and tell me that the venture should be both of ours.”

  “Sounds like one hell of a friend,” I murmur.

  “That he was,” Daniel counters dryly. “When it got to a court hearing he obviously didn’t have any solid grounds or evidence to prove his BS and so the case was closed just as quickly as it started.”

  “Did you ever speak to him again?”

  He takes a deep breath. “No, I made sure our paths didn’t cross again.”

  “So it all started in college, your company. That’s remarkable,” I say admiringly.

  “Yes, I worked my ass off, juggling between courses and developing my program till it became this small operation called Stark Software.” He scratches his upper lip with his thumb, and a glint of mischief appears in his eyes.

  “So not a lot of close people,” I conclude quietly.

  “I’ve got you now, Hales.” He radiates his sweet boyish smile, the one that’s reserved only for me.

  “And what about ladies back then? Was it only work and study?” I ask, thinking about a younger version of him full of hormones in a promiscuous environment such as college. Bet he was some attraction. A naughty smirk forms on his lips as he murmurs, “Oh, there were plenty. I had my share of fun, rest assured, baby.”

  I slap his abs playfully and feign a frown. I could line up each and every one of these blank faces in a row next to a gutter and execute their sentence for ever touching him. And I’d be doing it with a song in my heart.

  “Hey, it was before you,” he raises his hands up in surrender and chuckles.