He licks the salt from my mouth and says, ‘Mmmm…’
I have to stop him. I need to think about this new…development. It’s not good news. ‘I’m hungry.’
‘Mmmm.’
‘Seriously hungry.’
‘The color of your hair… Your body… You looked like a sea goddess or a mermaid coming out of the water. In this wretched world you are…perfect.’
His voice is like rich, dark golden syrup. It coats my skin. He kisses my ear and glides his lips along the lobe. The action is like being on a familiar road. I’ve traveled it before. Many times. Some part of me even knows where this road leads to. I empty my being of thought and surrender myself to desire. It ripples like a forest fire through me, swift and unstoppable. I press my body against his ever-hard bulge in his trousers.
‘Would you like that balls deep inside that pretty pink pussy of yours, Miss Black?’ he purrs like a dragon seducing a fairy tale princess.
‘Yes, I would, Mr. Rose. Very much indeed.’
His hands go around my back and unclasp my bra.
My breasts spill out into the glorious sunshine. Instinctively I straighten my spine so they show themselves to their best advantage. ‘What about the men?’ I whisper.
‘Gone.’ My bra lands on the sand.
‘Gone where?’ Not that I care, but I couldn’t think of anything more mysterious or alluring to say.
‘To the other side of the island. There is a lagoon there and they’ve gone to catch bone fish.’
My nipples strain hard against the smooth, hot skin of his torso. I fist a shaking hand in his hair and pull his head down to my aching nipples. He doesn’t resist. His mouth on my taut nipple is heady heaven. Heat rushes from his mouth into my body and I feel myself go up in flames. Suddenly the steady sound of the waves disappears and spots dim my vision. I feel dizzy. My knees buckle.
‘What’s the matter?’ he asks, his voice suddenly changed.
Shocked, I sag against him.
‘Heatstroke,’ he says, and putting his hands under my knees carries me to the house.
‘I think I’m fine now,’ I say weakly, but to be honest I do feel quite strange. He takes me into the white house and puts me on a long couch under a lazily whirling fan. He goes away and comes back bearing a young green coconut with the top sawn off and a straw in it. I take a few sips and start to feel better.
He crouches next to me, an expression on his face I have never seen. ‘How do you feel?’
‘Like I could bite your ass.’
He smiles, but that anxious expression remains in his eyes.
‘Do you want to rest for a bit?’
‘I’m fine now,’ I say and it’s true—I am.
‘Are you sure?’
I put my hand out and erase the frown on his face. This is a side of Jaron I did not expect to see. ‘Yes, I’m sure.’
He sighs with relief.
‘I’m very hungry, though.’
‘OK, lunch will be ready in five minutes.’ He kisses me lightly on my forehead and pushes upwards. I watch him walk toward what must be the kitchen. I hear the sound of the fridge opening and look around myself. The house is airy and light. The windows are many and are all open. The furniture is mostly painted wood. Funky and totally cool. Long, transparent green curtains flutter at the windows.
I look at it all and wonder what I would have made of it a couple of hours ago. Sometimes life can be clearly divided into before this happened and after this happened. Important things—before my mother died, after I got cancer, after my son was born. For me it will be after I realized for sure that I was in love with Jaron. The air between us seems to have changed.
Now I have a secret. I am in love with a man who is a total stranger to me and who openly confesses to having a girlfriend. But the relationship is so odd that it even almost seems like a lie. And yet it can’t be. Both claim they are in a relationship. Some part of me mourns the loss of my carefree attitude. Another part of me is determined that I will not spoil my time on this paradise island. I am so confused I decide not to think for the next two days.
‘What’s for lunch?’ I ask.
He pops his head around the corner. ‘Goat curry, fava beans and rice.’
‘What? No fucking way am I eating a goat.’
He grins. ‘Just kidding. Mango salad and cold chicken.’
I stand up cautiously. The wooden floor feels cool and smooth under my bare feet. And I feel totally normal so I walk to the kitchen.
‘Who made the food?’
‘Herbert’s wife, Gwen. He’s the guy with the dreadlocks.’
With my palms on either side of me I heave myself up on the counter beside the coffee machine. I dangle my legs. ‘Hmm.’