Sparks of Moonlight

"This house used to belong to someone I knew," she said, placing the candle on a low table. The light from it cast shadows across the room, making him realize that they were standing in a small living room. He took a cursory glance at the room before his eyes returned to her face. He felt a twist in his gut. God, she was the most exquisite creature he'd ever seen.

"Would you like to change out of those wet clothes?" she asked, and even though his clothes weren't that wet, he nodded mutely.

She disappeared into the other room again and emerged minutes later with a towel. Caleb used the time to gather his wits long enough to pull a spare set of clothes out of his backpack.

She handed him the towel, and he took it before wrestling his shirt over his head. Grasping the towel made his right hand immobile and he tried using one hand to disentangle himself. Seconds later, he felt gentle hands pulling his shirt off for him, and simply imagining her performing such an intimate task made goosebumps roll down his arms.

She took the shirt and left him to dry off, folding it neatly and setting it on the low table, away from the candle. Then she turned her head, apparently to give him privacy to change out of his pants.

When he was done, he slung the towel over his shoulder. "Aren't you going to change out?"

She turned towards him again. "I do not have anything to change into."

He thought for a moment. "If you have a slip or something, you can change into that and I'll lend you my shirt," he offered.

But she shook her head, looking to the floor again. "I'm not wearing my slip."

There was a swift intake of air on his part. When he'd mentioned her underwear, it had been a strictly platonic, practical thing. Now her words had all sorts of shit going through his head. What the hell was wrong with him? Maybe his hormones were so fucked up that the reaction he was supposed to get at fifteen was hitting him hard at twenty.

"Er, well if you don't change you might catch something. And it's already starting to get a little cold."

She smiled, averting her eyes. "I'm used to the cold."

Then she settled herself in front of the table, her knees tucked under her. He couldn't imagine that the position would be comfortable, but she looked like she didn't seem inclined to complain.

A sudden roar of thunder made them both jump. Caleb cursed loudly from the shock. Then blushing slightly, he grabbed his backpack and sat cross-legged across from her.

He rummaged through his backpack as he tried to make conversation. "So how long do you think it'll take?"

She blinked. "I do not understand."

"The rain," he explained. "How long do you think it'll take to blow over?"

"Oh." A cool wind breezed into the room as she turned to assess the situation. Caleb had been in the process of setting up his Mac, but when he looked up, his thoughts ground to a halt.

The glow of the flickering candle fell across her smooth, curved cheeks, almost as if it was caressing her. He stared at her as she stared at the rain, feeling the now-familiar pinprick of attraction to her that he'd felt multiple times over the course of a few minutes. He didn't understand it, but neither did he find the inclination understand it. She just felt so familiar somehow, so right, so damned beautiful.

When she found him staring at her as she turned back to him, she bowed her head again, looking embarrassed.

"It is my fault that we are stuck in here," she whispered. "I should never have let you walk with me."

But the denial was ready on his lips. "Nonsense. I couldn't possibly have let you walk home alone."

She shook her head. "It will take hours for the rain to stop falling. And you are wasting so much time…"

"It doesn't matter. I didn't have anything important to do tonight anyway."

"No?" she looked up, surprised. Her surprise made him feel like the biggest loser on the planet.

"Well, I was going to blog, but not much other than that. I came here with my friends but they decided to… do something else."

"Ah," she said when he didn't comment further. He wondered if she knew what he'd meant. She looked too innocent to.

"So anyway," he continued, his voice bright. "Don't feel bad. It was my choice. I would've been stuck in the rain somewhere else if not for you."

His initial plan had been to set up his laptop and start working on his blog post again, but seeing that she had nothing to do while he worked, he felt a little mean leaving her to entertain herself. So he put his backpack away and stared at her bowed head.

"Do you have anything in mind that we could do while waiting for the rain to stop?"

She shrugged. "This has never happened to me before."

"You've never been stuck in a strange house with a strange man on a rainy night?"

"I have never been stuck anywhere before."

"See, there's a first time for everything." Their conversation was simply to fill in the time that they had, and he recognized it was getting pretty stale.

The wind blew the shutters back again and she shivered, hugging herself. The candle was blown out, and the room swirled into darkness again.

"Are you all right?" he asked into the darkness. He heard shuffling, then the candle was lighted again. As she cupped her palms around the candle, he rose to close the shutters securely.

"Are you OK?" he asked, turning back to her. She nodded.

"Here," he said, shrugging out of his shirt. "You're cold."

She took it without argument, slipping it over her head and bundling herself in it.

Minutes passed, but neither of them talked. Caleb sat in his territory, watching her. She sat in hers, staring at the floor. The wind made strange noises outside.

He began to imagine how her hair would feel like. It looked smooth and straight, but he was damn sure it would feel like silk. At that moment, her fingers rose to tuck her hair behind her ears, and he jolted. An image of her flashed through his mind. Happy, laughing, dressed in a sunny yellow kimono. Then just as quickly as the image had entered his mind, it was gone, leaving him shaking his head. Weird.

She switched sitting positions so that her legs were tucked in at her side. Her actions were so elegant, so graceful that they were like dance movements by themselves. He saw himself become more and more captivated by the woman in front of him. He didn't know her name or where she came from. But it didn't seem to matter.

His eyes traveled leisurely over her features, trying to find some explanation for the familiarity he felt with her. A whisper brushed past his ears, startling him.

"Did you say something?" he asked her. She shook her head.

Shrugging it off as a freak incident, he continued his perusal of her. The column of her neck was long and beautifully curved. If Ted were here, he would call it 'made for lovebites.' But Caleb wasn't a lovebites kinda guy. He was more of a teaser. And he could imagine teasing that neck.

He closed his eyes, wondering at his extensively horny state. He didn't know how to deal with it; it wasn't something that had occurred before.

Behind closed lids, he saw her again. Her kimono pushed away on one shoulder, her neck tilted to the side, as though she was waiting for someone… him? He was looking at her from the back, so it had to be him. But that didn't make any sense. He didn't know her.

He opened his eyes and found her staring at him. It was almost a bold stare for someone who was accustomed to bowing her head. Caleb stared back, unable to tear his eyes away from the black glitter of her eyes.

Then he felt a bone-numbing chill in the room, but he noticed that she didn't shiver. She didn't even blink. He wrapped his arms around himself, still unable to tear his eyes away from her.

"Don't you feel the chill?" he asked, struggling to keep his teeth from chattering.

Her response was to nod slowly.

"Aren't you cold?"

She shook her head.

"How could you not be?" His voice was incredulous.

"Because I have you."

A belated sense of wariness seeped into his skin at her words, and he stared at her, dumbfounded.

"Huh? What?"

She rose from her perch, sliding his shirt over her head effortlessly, letting it slide to the floor. He watched her as she came nearer toward him, wary, but not fearful. Her hand was gentle as she laid it on his shoulder and knelt beside him.

His eyes roved her body: the red kimono, obsidian eyes and silky hair… and he knew without a doubt how she would taste like if he slid his lips against hers.

Caleb shook his head. That was an insane thought.

She simply sat before him, unspeaking, and he wondered what he should do. This woman was obviously delusional or had overly romanticized the situation. But then again, had she? Shit, it was getting muddled.

"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "I don't understand you."

Her fingers began smoothing over the curve of his shoulders. "You don't remember?"

He didn't know if her fingers were a comfort or a discomfort. "What? Remember what?"

That's when it started. Voices began echoing in his head, and his skin broke out in a sweat. His breaths became fast and hard, and he became blind to everything but the images flashing in his mind. He felt her hands gripping him, her voice murmuring something in his ear.

They were standing in a garden, people he didn't recognize surrounding him. He looked down at himself; he was wearing a khaki colored uniform, like something out of the army. She was standing a few feet in front of him, head bowed demurely behind an older woman. Someone was talking to him, he knew, but he was paying them the least attention possible, his eyes focused only on her. She looked up after a few seconds, her eyes locking with his before she blushed and turned away.

Then the scene changed and they were indoors. A narrow hallway. She was on one end, leaning against the wall with her head tipped back. A hand came up to press against her heart, and she smiled to herself. Then she peeked around the wall to look for someone. To look for him. He felt himself striding forward to catch her by the arm as she made to run away.

Again, like a pirated movie, the scene got cut off, and they were in a room. A hotel room, perhaps. She stood in front of him, her head bowed. He was looking down at her, feeling something heavy and heady in his heart. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew the ring that he had ordered made for her, with both their initials and an engraving. He raised her chin, placed a chaste kiss on her cheek and slipped the ring onto her finger. She cried.

Another scene. Of them lying on the bed, fucking. He could feel her nails on his back, the mewls in his ear. The tension in his body was indescribable. He could feel the passion in his thrusts and the clenching of her pussy. He whispered in her ear all the things that he thought she was, and how much she pleased him. She stilled beneath him, her body flushing, and he knew she had taken her pleasure.

Then they were at the little pond, except that now he was a third party. She stood alone, her red kimono glinting in the moonlight. Tears glistened on her cheeks, and he felt his heart ache, needing to comfort her.

"Nami," he whispered, feeling tears on his own cheeks. "Nami."

He felt gentle fingers wiping the away, and his vision refocused to the little hut they were in. She was still kneeling beside him, running her fingers over his wet cheeks.

"You remember," she said softly, smiling slightly.

He seemed to mentally shake himself. What was happening to him? What had he just seen? Those weren't his memories; that wasn't his life. Who was this woman?

"No, do not deny it. You must remember. You must."

The rain had stopped, he noticed. He had to leave. Shrugging her hands away from his body, he stood and pulled the discarded shirt over his head. Not faltering for a moment, he reached for his backpack and made for the door. She was mad, whoever she was. Maybe she'd performed some kind of Japanese voodoo on him. He needed to get out of her stifling presence.

"Please, don't leave." He heard her plea, even considered it briefly, before realizing how stupid it could be to stay.

But when he tried to push the wooden door aside, it didn't budge. He rattled it, pushed at it with his shoulder but it didn't give an inch. Sweat began forming on his forehead -- a nervous sweat. There was no noise coming from the living area.

He turned around slowly, fearing what he would see. The candle was still burning on the table, but she wasn't there.

"Please."

The word rushed through his brain, and he looked around frantically for her.

"What do you want?" he shouted, unable to bear the little game she was playing. His back hit the door as he scrambled backward when she materialized in front of him, a vision of perfect beauty. But her eyes were sad, overflowing with tears.

"What do you want?" he repeated, this time, much more softly.

She came closer, pressing herself against him, her arms going around his waist. "I want you to remember," she said, laying her head on his chest.

She smoothed her hand over his heart and kissed it gently. And Caleb found that he could, indeed, remember.

*

"I'll marry you."

Nami pulled away from Caleb slightly, her eyes rising to meet his. They were standing by the pond again, with her in his arms. It had become their heaven, far from the prying eyes in the village. Here, they could be themselves, and not be afraid to speak and act as they wanted to.

Nami knew her father suspected that something was going on between them, but he'd never asked her about it. Instead, she'd overheard that he'd deployed a few men to follow Caleb around. She'd stopped visiting Caleb in his hotel after that. Now they only had these few stolen moments under the moonlight. She lived for them.

"What?" she asked, barely able to comprehend what he'd said. She'd resigned herself to being his lover, and nothing more. Her society would not accept him, and she doubted that his parents would make her a part of the family, too. She had been content just to be his woman, and hadn't expected that he would ask her to marry him knowing the consequences.

"Marry me, Nami. I don't care if people don't accept us. I don't care if my parents disown me. All I want is for you to be my wife."

Nami swallowed thickly. She couldn't believe this was happening. Even in her wildest dreams, she'd never allowed herself to envision this.

"I…"

"Just say yes, sweetheart."

She blinked back tears, lifting her fingers to his cheek. "How could you doubt it?"

He caught her to him, crushing her body against his. Her tears made a wet spot on his chest. He groaned.

"Don't cry, baby. Please don't."

"I'm not," she said on a sob, swiping at her tears. "I'm just happy."

He laughed and buried his face in her scented hair. Married, he thought. Married to Nami, officially making her his. There was nothing that could give him more happiness.

"I love you," he whispered in her ear and felt the shudder that ran through her body. She raised her hands to entwine his neck.

"A few months ago, I didn't know what love between a man and a woman felt like. But now that I do, I'll never let you go."

"Never?" he repeated, his eyes taking on a serious glaze at her words.

"Never," she vowed. Then she kissed him.

His hands wandered as they always did, down her back and the arch of her buttocks to caress the firm mounds. She smiled against his mouth, knowing that her bottom was his weakness, and reached up to run her fingers through his short, blonde hair. She pressed her bottom against his palms and he groaned into her mouth.

He melded their lips and he felt her fingers dig into his neck. She let out a little sigh when his lips moved over hers from one end to the other, his tongue tracing the delectable curve of her bottom lip. He opened his eyes to watch the way she reacted to his kisses; her responses never failed to amaze him. This time, her eyes were shut tightly, her body vibrating with the beginning of an urgency that would lead them both to an unimaginable end.

She murmured something into his ear, but he did not hear it over the rush of blood in his ears and the feel of her heated breath misting over his skin. His hands traveled over the material lining the tops of her breasts just as his tongue caressed hers in a heated tryst. They moaned in unison. Christ! She tasted of woman and an exotic substance that was uniquely her. The taste of her drugged him as it usually did and he fell prey to it, willingly and irrevocably. His every thought was filled with nothing but her, trembling so sweetly in his arms, waiting for his touch to ease her ache.

His fingers slipped under the cloth of the kimono, causing goosebumps over her flesh before sliding the soft silk down over her arm. She shivered. Creamy skin shone beneath the moonlight. She wore no slip, and Caleb knew that she done so because she knew he loved the thought of her being nude under cool silk. It drove him wild, and his blood heated when he realized how she'd deliberately planned to arouse him.

Before her, he hadn't really known much about a woman's breasts, having only had a couple of floozies before joining the army, but even in his inexperience, he knew that her breasts were the epitome of beautiful. Rich, white mounds rippled slightly as he slid his fingers over them. The cloth fell to her waist and he brushed his thumbs across the tender, pink crowns that seemed to pout for his touch. He watched for her reaction as he tweaked one of her distended nipples, rubbing it slowly between his thumb and forefinger. Her breath hitched, and a sweet mewl escaped her lips.

He laid her onto the soft grass then, as completely taken with her as the first time he'd laid eyes on her. He positioned his hands on either side of her head and kissed her again, wanting to hear her sigh against his lips. Only when she did, he allowed his lips to travel lower to the lusty globes of her breasts.

"You're pouting," he breathed against her breasts, although he was sure she couldn't hear him above her mewls.

The first flick of his tongue on her hard nipple had her arching her back against him. He knew she was as helpless to the madness as he was. Helpless to the pleasure they wove around each other. His tongue snaked around her nipple, swirling around it as though performing a special dance. Then his teeth joined in the pleasuring and tugged once, twice, three times, until her fingers in his hair were clutching, pulling, demanding.

He bunched her skirts around her middle, seeking the treasure that would give them both pleasure. Downy, soft hair covered her mound, ensconcing a pink treat that beckoned his lips. Her knees fell apart without shyness as he descended upon her, opening for him. He could smell her even before he laid his lips against her center. Taking a deep breath of her musty scent, he kissed and caressed the inner sides of her thighs, feeling them quiver. He knew he loved it when he teased her before giving her pleasure; in the past few weeks, he'd made it his primary task to learn everything she liked and disliked. So he teased her as only a merciless man would, running a hand through her nether curls, drugging her with pleasure. She began begging, pleading with him, and only then did he relent.

He heard a sharp, shaky cry escape her lips when his tongue finally touched her slick folds. She was so aroused that her lips were full and pouting, showing off the thick desire that had pooled between her legs. Caleb dipped his head and suckled on the little bundle of nerves that was nestled within her folds, wanting nothing more than to feel her take her pleasure around his lips. She cried out yet again and writhed under him, her small hands making fists out of his thin shirt as he alternated between licking and nibbling on her sensitive skin.