Sand and Sky

Part 4

He moved with predatory grace, and all his corded muscle was flawlessly displayed under his smooth, tanned skin. The way he was put together was nothing short of masterful. His torso was a perfectly proportioned triangle of wide shoulders, tapering to lean hips supported by abs that resembled stacked bricks. It was enough to make her sigh, but before the breath could pass her lips, Sol stumbled as though he'd been tripped by an invisible string. Her brows drew together.

Once he righted himself, he cast an I-meant-to-do-that glance over one shoulder. Then his gaze fell on her, a look of surprise and then relief passing over his features. He angled straight for her with a purpose of stride that quickened her pulse and made her think he was glad to see her.

"Sol!" Farron trapped a laugh behind her fingers. The boy's mother was staring. Not that she could blame her.

"What?" Sol frowned at her, his pale brows descending over the dark wells of his obsidian eyes.

She'd been wishing he'd finally take notice of her, and now that he had, she wished he'd stop. She wasn't sure she liked having his attention on her. His gaze was too studied, almost penetrating, as though he were taking her apart piece by piece, dissecting every little thing about her. She couldn't look her fill with him so concentrated on her. And boy did she want to look her fill.

"You're naked." She was struggling to keep her eyes above his chest. It wasn't like she hadn't seen her share of naked males. She'd grown up sandwiched between two brothers who believed clothes were an optional accessory other than the rare occasions they ventured into public or company was coming. But they were her brothers. Sol naked was something else entirely. Sol naked made her want to get naked too so they could be naked together.

"I was born this way." The corner of his mouth tilted slyly, his long fingers idly scratching his stomach, drawing her gaze down. No doubt he was doing it on purpose.

His beauty was undeniable, but there was an edge to it, a forcefulness behind it that added a hint of danger. He ought to look ridiculous with the spiraling curls of his white-blond hair that he'd let grow to an unruly length combined with his coal-black eyes and thick lashes when in fact he was the most glorious creature she'd ever seen. She could say that with absolute conviction now that she'd had the chance to inspect every inch of his velvet skin, every line and indent of the muscle it covered.

Before she could get too distracted by all that forceful beauty coming at her, she pasted on a bored expression and tossed him the shorts she'd snatched from Sammy's drawer. His eyes widened slightly when they smacked him in the chest before they fell at his now stalled feet. Farron wasn't an admirer of feet, but Sol's were nicely shaped, with stair-step toes, the webs between each one glinting with moisture.

"The shorts," she said. "You should put them on. You're scaring that little boy."

Sol huffed, tossing his chin in the boy's direction. "If you're talking about Brady, I'm not sure anything could scare that kid." He bent over and picked the shorts off the ground, fingering them oddly. He wouldn't take his eyes off her which was odd too. One of the legs was inside out, but he stuck his foot in it anyway. When his foot caught on the fabric, he lost his balance and fell on his side. Farron quickly averted her gaze. Out of her peripheral, she saw him roll onto his back and lay there staring up at the sky. He started laughing, but it sounded more hysterical than humorous. She really needed him to put those shorts on.

She cleared the sudden lump in her throat and asked, "Are you okay?"

He laughed again, his head shaking back and forth as if he were in on some kind of inside joke. Then he sat up, his gaze scanning up and down the beach like he was looking for something. "I can't see."

She narrowed her eyes, watching him intently. It was hard to tell if he was being serious. "What?"

He turned his face towards her and the laugh faded to a half smile. She must have misunderstood. He could see. He was clearly looking at her. Too closely, too intimately. She almost wanted to cover her face he was looking so closely.

"Since the explosion. I haven't been able to see," he said.

"Are you saying you're blind?"

"Something like that." He laughed again, but she failed to see what was so funny.

"I don't understand."

"Something must have happened when the boat—" He cut himself off as if avoiding the reminder of what he'd done.

"Do you think you need to go see someone?" Her chest tightened with renewed worry. "Go to the Facility?"

"No. I'm fine." Those impossibly dark eyes slammed into her, and her skin tingled under the force of his gaze, an open invitation to a glimpse at his soul. She'd always thought his eyes were black, but they looked green today, a deep dark green, like the ocean on a sunless day.

"But Sol, what if—" What if he had brain damage? How had he gotten himself out of the house?

"No what if's," he said, his soft lips set in a tight line. "I'll deal."

He seemed to be dealing. Remarkably well. Against her better judgment, she let it go. He was a grown man. He didn't need her mothering him as much as she wanted to.

"I brought food," she said though now that she'd seen him she knew a pot of soup wouldn't be enough.

"What is it? I'm starving."

"Sorry, it's only soup. I wasn't sure if you'd be up for more." She stood, brushing the sand off her legs. She was about to offer him her hand and help him up, but the determined set of his jaw had her curling her fist at her side. "There's an outdoor shower on the right side of the porch. You probably want to wash that sand off."

She took her time walking back to the cottage just in case he ended up needing her help. By the time she ascended the porch steps, she heard him pull the chain on the shower. He cursed under his breath when the cold water hit his skin. She dared a glance at him. His back was turned to her, and he lifted his face to the spray, his hair roping down his back all the way to the top of his rounded buttocks sitting high and tight over the curve of his hamstrings. Her fingers twitched with the need to touch.

She closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe. "I'll get you a towel."