Page 126 of Dagger in the Sea

“The island has an archeological museum?” I gestured at the building.

“Yes, there are several museums here in fact.” Adri nibbled on the thin cinnamon cookie that came with the coffees. “Would you like to go?”

“Yes, actually. I would. You?”

Her eyes brightened as she wiped the crumbs from her fingers. “I’d love to. I haven’t been since I was in high school. Quite shameful.”

“Shameful?”

She only grinned at me. Something was up.

I paid our bill at the café, and we went to the museum. As I paid our admission fee, I did a double take at the plaque over the attendant’s desk. Adri’s family name hung on the wall. I raised an eyebrow at her, tilting my head.

“My parents’ foundation donated the money for the museum and renovated the building,” she said.

I took her hand, and we entered the galleries. Sculptures from the Archaic period all the way to the Roman era filled the exhibition space. Small painted earthenware bowls and vases from over thousands of years ago with the early geometric patterns up through the more graceful design elements of later periods. And all of it found right here, on this island.

“Different from a big city museum?” she asked.

“Very satisfying on another level,” I murmured. Erin would really enjoy this.

“There’s also a contemporary art museum here.”

“Let’s go.”

We walked on to the Contemporary Art Museum. A special exhibition of Georges Braque, a buddy of Picasso’s and fellow Cubism creator, was on display—“Georges Braque: Order & Emotion.”

Jesus, first I had Dionysus at my heels, now Braque.

We lingered in the last gallery in front of a painting of a pair of birds floating in a white space. Flat and simple. There was something delightful yet sad about it all at once. The birds soared free side by side in the flat space, but they seemed separate. Alone.

An ache creeped up my insides and curled tightly there. I wasn’t going to think about how me and Adri would have to leave the island soon. We’d been here three days now, and I knew I had to get back to my reality and get her back to hers.Not yet. Not yet.I threaded my fingers in Adri’s and she squeezed my hand, pressing against my side, and my chest eased.

We left the museum, both of us immediately adjusting our sunglasses over our eyes. The Greek sun was intense. We joined the flow of the afternoon crowd on the cobblestone main road, my gaze darting left and right.

There he is.

Brown leather jacket man, now wearing a denim jacket sat at a café at three o’clock texting on his phone.

I threw an arm over Adri’s shoulders pulling her in close. “Is it too late for the beach now? I want to get wet with you.”

“Of course not,” she said, her tone bright. “On an island, beach-ing happens any time of day or night. Like drinking and eating.”

And fucking, Lovely. And fucking. Day and night. Night and day.

35

Adriana

Two more days passed.Two glorious days.

And in that time we’d gotten into a routine. Our rituals of the day. A day that wasn’t marked by time’s necessities, but by our wants, our appetites. Our moods. And our moods focused on each other.

When he had demanded of me in the kitchen that afternoon my skin had set on fire, my lungs crushed together at the hard tone in his voice. I’d gotten on my knees before him gladly. It hadn’t only been a submission to him, but to this deep attraction and need between us. I wanted to explore it. I wanted to experience, live it. I wanted him so badly. More than anything I’d ever wanted before.

He was methodical and studious and that only made my response that much more intense. He was always mindful of how hard to push and when, and encouraging. I trusted him. The more I trusted, the more I enjoyed what we had. His sensuality knew no bounds, his focus, his care, and it was thrilling. There was no dissembling between us. That glint in his eye when we fucked provoked me, was adamant that I ask for what I wanted, that I remain present with him and what we were doing. That I feel.

And I felt. Oh how I felt.

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