Private Paradise(33)

Carla was saved from having to answer when her stomach gave a rumble, startling a laugh out of them both at its sheer volume.

“Damn, woman, when's the last time you ate?”

Carla played back last several hours and realized that she'd been so caught up in preparing for the storm and evacuating the guests that she hadn't had anything to eat today except for her preworkout coffee and some bottled water. “Dinner last night?”

“Let's get you fed.” Sam rolled off her and reached for his own robe and made a pit stop in the attached bathroom. Carla waited for him to come out and used the bathroom herself, pausing to grab a hurricane lamp and box of matches on the way.

She gave herself a quick washing, wincing as the wet washcloth brushed against the tender folds of her sex. In the mirror, her candlelit face looked different. Softer. Younger. The hard edges buffed away by the sheer force of her orgasms.

Almost like the naïve eighteen-year-old who had fallen for Sam's schtick the first time around, she thought. She clung to that thought and went to join Sam in the main room.

He was standing next to the dining table beside the villa's kitchenette, the contents of two emergency kits neatly laid out before him. He'd lit several lamps as well, the golden light playing over the sculpted lines of his face, which she realized on closer inspection was pulled into an irritated frown.

“What's wrong?” she asked.

“You can't eat any of these,” he said, gesturing to the stack of energy bars. “They're all peanut butter flavored.”

“Crap,” Carla muttered as her stomach rumbled forlornly. “They must have mixed up the order. I specifically requested peanut free. She gave herself a mental kick in the ass for not double checking. Too late now.

“I don't suppose you have an epi-pen with you?” she joked. Unless she wanted her throat to close up and to die from anaphylactic shock, she wasn't eating any time soon.

“I'm sorry,” he said as he packed the bars away along with the first aid equipment they thankfully hadn't needed. “In the rush, I didn't think to check for any that had nut free emergency rations.”

“It's okay,” she said, telling herself it didn't mean anything that he remembered she had a potentially lethal peanut allergy. “Not like I can't stand to miss a few meals.”

He cocked a dark eyebrow and reached for his shorts which were draped over the back of a chair. “You're perfect, and you need to eat,” he said as he dropped his robe and pulled on his damp shorts. “I remember what you're like when you don't eat.” He moved to the door.

“What are you doing?” Her voice raised in alarm as he reached for the doorknob. “You can't go out in that.”

Sam looked at his watch. “Based on how fast the storm is moving, the eye should be over us right about now.” He opened the door, and sure enough, the rain had eased to a soft sprinkle. “I should be able to raid the kitchen and get back here before the other side hits us.”

“Are you insane?” Carla asked as he stepped out the door. “That's how people get hurt―they go out in the eye thinking the storm is over and then get caught.”

Sam bent and gave her a quick hard kiss. “It's sweet of you to worry about me, but I'll be back in ten minutes, tops. You sit tight.” He flashed her a cocky grin, reminiscent of the wild teenager he'd once been, flouting the rules at every turn. Despite what he claimed, he hadn't changed, except now he was facing down natural disasters instead of school principals and the local cops.

He took off at a fast jog before she could say another word. Though the air was hot and oppressive with humidity, she kept her robe clutched tightly around her as she waited anxiously on the villa's front steps for Sam to return. From her position, she got her first glimpse of the havoc the hurricane had wreaked. Everywhere, palm fronds that lined the resort's perfectly landscaped grounds littered the pathways connecting the guest rooms. Clay shards lay scattered across the grounds, remnants of roof tiles that had been ripped off by the wind and hurled to the ground.

She could only imagine how much worse it would be on the side of the island that was more exposed to the storm.

Where was Sam? He’d said ten minutes, tops, but it felt like a lot longer.

Her stomach knotted as the wind started to kick up again, a signal that the other side of the eye was fast approaching, bringing with it the most violent winds they'd have to endure.

What if he didn't make it back in time? What if she had to wait out the storm alone?

Worse, what if he got hurt? Or killed? The thought of him surviving being burned and shot at, only to die because he'd gone off in a storm to get her a snack made the knot of fear in her belly double in size.