"What we had is over, Dawn. You don't have to do this anymore. You're free to go."
I traced the glass separating us with my fingers, looking into his green eyes and whispered to the phone, "So you want to know why I'm still here?"
He just stare...
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"She walks in beauty, like the night," Silas whispered into my ears as we sat on the rock perched near the very end of the shore. "Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright," he continued, his hands on mine, arms wrapped around me. The sky was gloomy, a rough blanket of gray smothering us from up there. The air was chilly against our bare feet hanging off the rock we reclined on.
"Meet in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellow'd to that tender light," Silas was going on, his voice a melody against my ears. Undulating waves from under splashed on my feet, washing away the remaining sand. The frosty air now bit into my skin, causing my hand to reach down and rub my legs instinctively.
After the last line from Lord Byron, Silas let out a sigh, the warmth of it wafting at my neck. I closed my eyes, smiling at the way it felt.
"Silas." My voice was merely a whisper when I rested my head against the crook of his neck. "He never says he's in love with her. So, what is so special about this?"
"Because he thinks she's gorgeous." He looked down at me, the clouds above us reflecting on the green of his eyes. "You know the story behind the poem, right?"
"Yes, his cousin's wife Anne Beatrix Wilmot. He was struck by her unusual beauty, and the next morning the poem was written. That's what I had read."
Silas nodded his head, a small smile curling about his lips. He stared for a while, lost in some thought and then muttered, "Do you know what I did?"
"What?" I gave him a confused smile.
"I made a painting instead." His smile grew, the corners of his eyes crinkling at the process. I blinked at him several times, trying to understand before remembering the painting he had made of me in the charity gala, wearing that red dress.
"The gala?" My eyes flickered to his lips, hand shooting up to caress the slight stubble on his chin. He nodded as an answer.
"I'll call that love," I added childishly. "I knew I loved you then."
"In Maui when I ran into you in the lobby, caught you lying to my face, I knew I loved you then." His smile suggested mirth.
"You make it sound like lying is a good thing," I scoffed, wriggling my legs against his, sitting up to face him completely.
He smiled when his face was raised against mine. "How else would I know that you were nervous around me? It made me hope."
Before I could protest, his lips were on me, seeking, afterwards demanding. The briny smell of sea mingled with his cologne, drove me to the edge, making me straddle him. The rough surface of the rock prickled my skin, forming goosebumps around the bandage on my leg. His hands slid up inside my skirt and hovered over my skin, making me moan. At the touch of his hands against my behind, I changed the pressure of my lips, rocking him back, losing our balance, yet kissing.
