Xenia lay beside Simon, their naked forms stretched languidly upon the woven blanket, their picnic foods lying unnoticed near the basket to one side. She watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath her hand, the way the sunlight kissed his skin, glowing where sweat still clung.
She stole a glance down his length as he lay there unabashedly nude. He had more body hair than Owen did. Everywhere, it seemed, but she enjoyed the scratchy feel of it on her skin when their bodies slid over each other. The coarseness was so masculine, so different from her own body.
Everything about him was so male, his scent, his muscles, his deep voice. She felt fragile beside him, but safe. He’d protect her from any harm, no matter what may come.
Rolling to her back, she looked up at the bright sky, where a few clouds made a slow crawl. “Remember when we used to lie like this as children?” She laughed suddenly, and added, “Well, we wore more clothes, then. We would make shapes out of the clouds, and you always saw knights and dragons.”
Simon chuckled softly, the sound resonating with warmth. “And you would see loaves of bread and pastries, even back then, dreaming of new recipes for your mother’s bakery.”
She laughed. “I suppose becoming a baker was my destiny.” Her gaze shifted from the skies to meet his eyes.
“Perhaps. But you were always meant for more than just kneading dough, Xenia.” His fingertips brushed down her body, a calm worship rather than a seduction.
A comfortable silence fell between them, and she listened to his steady breathing and the occasional bird calling from the trees. Her thoughts continued to wander through the years. “You know, with you and Owen, there’s always been a difference. Your personalities are so unique.”
She felt the muscles of his belly tighten. Was that because of her mentioning Owen’s name? It couldn’t be. Simon had suggested only minutes ago they might have Owen with them soon. No, he hadn’t said perhaps we’ll, he said next time we will ...
Men. She would never understand them. “Should I not talk about Owen when we’re naked?” She kept the sarcasm from her tone, leaving it to him to remember his own words.
“Owen is our friend,” he replied tersely.
“And so much more to both of us, of late. Our friendship is... complicated, isn’t it?”
“Complicated,” Simon echoed. He stared at the clouds, his brow furled and lips thin.
Eventually, he captured her hand in his. “Xenia, know this—regardless of your feelings for Owen, my affection for you is unwavering. You must never doubt that.”
Her heart nearly broke at the emotion in his eyes. She cupped a hand to his cheek and stretched up to kiss him. “I feel the same way, Simon. You will always be in my heart.”