Lovewrecked

by Halle, Karina

  So that’s that. I’m lying down on the bed, which is just wooden slats and as uncomfortable as it sounds but, with the sleeping bag beneath me, it’s okay. Still no pillow for me, but rolled up clothes work fine (though they still smell like diesel, even after washing them).

  It’s just after sunrise. I should probably get up, but I know Tai takes this time for himself and after I kissed him, I feel like I’m a pest. A sexpest. Although yesterday, we did have a good time putting all the stuff away, kind of like old times.

  But who am I kidding? Even the old times were never easy. If we weren’t flirting, we were fighting.

  For once I’d like to do neither. I’d like to just…be with him.

  I sigh and close the journal.

  The symphony of Richard and Lacey’s snoring is amplified in this room, though I have to say last night was the best sleep I had yet. Lately it’s taken forever to fall asleep because I felt like bugs were crawling on me (and they usually were), and my mind has been racing over the whole being shipwrecked thing, going over all the possible horrible scenarios in this endless anxiety spin. But last night I must have passed right out. I was even trying to stay up to see when Tai came back to bed. He disappeared around ten and that was that.

  I sit up and eye his bed in the dim light. Not sure he even slept on it, his sleeping bag is gone.

  I get to my feet, pull on my skirt and a tank, and step onto the deck.

  Wow. What a view.

  From this side of the island the sunrise isn’t as prominent, but it doesn’t make it less of a show. Just like Tai said, the sun rising is the one thing you can count on when you can’t seem to count on anything else. No matter how uncertain the future, the sun still rises.

  Then I see him.

  Swimming half-way across the lagoon to the little island.

  He looks like he’s on a mission, swimming fast.

  Then I see what he’s swimming toward.

  Glinting in the rising sun is my suitcase, washed up on the shore.

  Oh my god!

  Without thinking I pull down my skirt and run into the water in just my white tank top and underwear, sloshing through it. It gets as deep as my chest after a while, and it becomes easier to just swim.

  Tai reaches the tiny island’s shore and turns around to see me swimming toward him. “Daisy, look,” he says, going over to the suitcase. “When I last checked the boat, I didn’t see it. I figured it went out to sea with the hole in the hull.”

  He’s grinning like he won the lottery, so you can understand how I feel, given that’s my suitcase.

  “Oh my god,” I cry out breathlessly, splashing through the water until I collapse into the baby-powder white sand right beside the suitcase. I throw my body on it, hugging it. I don’t care. “And you made fun of me for bringing it.”

  “Don’t get carried away yet. Everything might be ruined.”

  But I know I invested in the right sparkly rose gold luggage. I quickly unzip it and push the top open and it reveals the smaller suitcase inside, like a nesting doll.

  Totally dry.

  I let out a whoop and Tai helps me bring the carry-on out. We plop it down on the sand.

  “I never thought I’d be happy to see these again,” he says.

  I laugh and unzip the smaller suitcase.

  You know the briefcase in Pulp Fiction, how when Sam Jackson opened it, all you’d see is the gold reflecting on his face?

  That’s what this feels like. Except, replace the gold bars with bottles of alcohol glinting in the sun, and there you have it.

  Nirvana.

  “Shit,” Tai says. “There they are.”

  He reaches in and picks up the bottle of vodka I won during poker, while I bring out a bottle of sauvignon blanc. Beneath that are two bottles of pinot noir. None of them broke, thanks to all the clothes they’re nestled in.

  Clothes! I gleefully pull my favorite worn sweatshirt and hold it up to me, feeling the cozy dry fabric. I don’t care if it’s too hot to wear it here, it’s comforting.

  Tai is sitting beside me in the sand, watching me. I can’t quite read the look on his face, but I think he might find me endearing.

  “What?” I ask him.

  “Nothing,” he says, giving me a soft smile. He starts unscrewing the top of the vodka. “What else do you got in there?”

  I start rummaging. “Books, that you will not use as toilet paper.” I glance up to see him drinking straight from the bottle. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting drunk. What does it look like I’m doing?”

  “It’s like 7AM.”

  “Gingersnap, deserted island time is like airport time. There are no rules.”

  “Is that so?” I reach out for it. “Give me that.”

  I take the bottle of vodka and have a shot, some spilling down my chin. It burns, especially since I’ve barely eaten anything, but it also feels really good.

  “Hey, easy there, don’t waste it,” he says, taking it back.

  “Tai, we can’t sit here and drink this vodka.”

  “Why not?”

  I look across at the barracks in the shadows of the jungle. “Because…”

  “Your sister and Richard went with Fred yesterday and they came back with a pillow and a sleeping bag. I don’t see either of us with pillows, do you?” He gestures.

  “No. But I noticed you didn’t sleep in the bungalow last night,” I tell him. I don’t know that for sure, but I’m testing him.

  He presses his lips together and nods, looking away as he hands me back the bottle. “I slept back at camp. Was just getting back here when I saw your suitcase.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugs. “Don’t know. Just felt like I had…unfinished business.”

  Ah.

  I clear my throat, sticking the bottle in the sand between us.

  “You know, Lacey told me about your sister.”

  He doesn’t seem surprised. Just nods.

  “I’m really sorry. I know that this must be tough.”

  He shrugs again with one shoulder. “No tougher for me than anyone else.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I ask, hoping he does, but expecting he doesn’t.

  “Not really.” He picks up the bottle. “Would rather do this.”

  I watch as he takes an even deeper gulp.

  He passes it back to me. “Stop judging,” he says. “Join me. We can at least celebrate getting rescued.”

  “Cheers to that.” I take the bottle and tip it back. Already feeling pretty buzzed.

  When Fred, Lacey, and Richard returned from their expedition yesterday, Fred told us he was able to contact Suva Search and Rescue again. They, once again, said we were low on their priority list. After all, we aren’t exactly in danger anymore, they had other people to attend to, and if they did finally come for us it would be a massive expense at this point. Then Lacey had Fred contact his team at the Nature Conservancy. They were way more helpful. Said they’d be sending in a plane in a couple of days to drop off a new scientist and that they’d take the rest of us back to Fiji.

  Just a few more days and we’re out of here!

  “Can you imagine being stuck here for as long as Fred has, all by yourself?” I muse.

  Tai doesn’t hesitate. “I could do it.”

  Of course he could. I lean back on my elbows, stretching my feet out in front of me in the sand. The water is gently lapping the shore just below. “Strong silent type, no need for company.”

  He shrugs, his eyes resting on my breasts which I now realize are practically on display in my soaking wet white tank top.

  Way to choose white this morning, Daisy.

  “Can’t say I wouldn’t mind some company,” he says, voice on a lower register.

  I gulp. Watching his eyes as they take me in, then drift up to my face.

  “Fred’s not so lucky,” I remind him.

  “Neither am I.”

  Well, you could be.

  “You know,
for a man who pretends to not be attracted to me, you’re looking at my breasts like you were looking at that vodka earlier.”

  He doesn’t say anything to that. Just makes a disgruntled sound. Grabs the bottle, and gets to his feet, walking over to the small grove of palm trees that make up this tiny island, the sand sticking to his skin.

  He leans against a palm, back to me, and drinks, looking out over the east side of the lagoon.

  In any other situation, this would be the perfect set-up.

  Me, on a private island, with a perfect man, in paradise.

  Not that Tai is perfect. He’s obviously not. But I know he’s perfect for someone. And if I really let my mind run away on me, he might just be perfect for me.

  He just doesn’t know it yet.

  He doesn’t want to know it. Girl, get the hint.

  I should leave him alone. I should get the hint.

  But this back and forth dance is getting frustrating.

  I reach into my suitcase and find a small jar wrapped in tissue. It’s just a jar of Manuka honey I picked up in Russell. Sounds lame, but I was going to keep it wrapped and give it to myself as a present when I was feeling blue. You know, when we got back home.

  I unwrap it and twist off the lid.

  I dip my finger into the liquid gold and stick it in my mouth.

  There’s nothing sweeter.

  I close my eyes for a moment and take in the bliss. The taste dances on my tongue.

  Honey is such a simple substance, something we’ve eaten for thousands of years, a straightforward pleasure, a gift from the gods that our body instantly recognizes.

  It’s unbelievable right now, especially having eaten nothing but canned goods for days.

  I get up and take the jar over to Tai, who is still drinking the vodka, staring off into nothing.

  “Tai,” I whisper, sticking my finger into the jar.

  I stand right in front of him, holding my finger out, the honey dripping on the end.

  He blinks at it. “Where did you get that?”

  “Open your mouth.”

  His eyes meet mine and for a moment I think he’s going to be a real hard-head and refuse.

  Then he does as he’s told.

  Opens his mouth.

  That gorgeous, sensual mouth.

  Wraps his lips around my finger, and gives it one, long deep pull that I feel all the way to my toes. His eyes never leave mine, if anything they intensify as his tongue rolls over the sides of my skin.

  A moan vibrates through him, and I think it might be the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard.

  Slowly, without breaking eye contact, he grabs my hand and slowly pulls my finger out and oh my god, I’m already wet between my thighs, fighting the urge to squeeze them together.

  This. Is. Intense.

  The bottle of vodka drops from his hands and into the sand.

  He then takes my hand and dips my finger into the honey again.

  Runs my fingers across my collarbones.

  Oh god.

  His eyes flash, devious. He dips his head and slowly runs his tongue along my clavicles.

  I’m hit by all senses in full force. I smell the shampoo he used from our waterfall shower, see his thick, gorgeous hair, I taste the honey on the roof of my mouth, hear my own heart pounding loudly in my head, feel his lips and tongue as they suck at my sensitive skin, the nip of his teeth.

  I shiver inwardly, overwhelmed, and his head moves lower, lower, down my chest.

  He pauses, pulls back, looking up through his lashes at me.

  I suck in my breath, tensing, recognizing the dark carnality in his gaze.

  He wants me.

  There’s no denying it. Not this.

  With one hand still around my wrist, his other hand goes to my breast. Palms it gently, my nipple already hard through the wet tank top.

  I am dying on my feet.

  His thumb brushes lightly over my nipple, then rolls it beneath his touch.

  My breath hitches as his hand moves up to my shoulder, slides the strap down, before he does the same to the neckline, my breast popping out.

  He leans in as if he’s going to kiss me on the lips. His breath smells like honey and vodka, his breathing raspy, gaze hungry. He licks his lips while staring at my mouth, then dips my finger in the honey again and runs the tip of my finger across my nipple.

  Fuck.

  I gasp as he lowers his head, cupping, squeezing, kneading my breast while he sucks the sweetness off the hardened tip.

  Melting. I am melting in his mouth, I am melting between my legs. My head goes back and I stare up at the sky, that early morning sky, my breast thrust forward as he devours me, his lips sucking and pulling, his tongue licking, swirling, teasing.

  “Oh god,” I whisper.

  I’m going to fall to my knees if he keeps this up.

  And yet I don’t want him to stop.

  He moans into my breast, then yanks down my top so both breasts are exposed.

  “Fucking gorgeous,” he murmurs against them, hands full, mouth exploring both, gentle and teasing one minute, ravaging me the next.

  Then, he suddenly stops.

  I am aching for him.

  He pulls back and puts one of his hands to the back of my neck, holding me in place as he rests his forehead against mine. His eyes are pinched shut, he’s breathing hard. Trying to control himself.

  I don’t want him to control himself anymore. He’s done too much of that already.

  Maybe it’s the vodka. Maybe it’s the honey. Maybe it’s that we’re getting rescued.

  Maybe it’s because it’s Tai Wakefield, a man who has me completely undone and obsessed.

  But I let go of the honey, the jar falling to the sand. I don’t even care.

  I place my hands on either side of his face, his stubble rough, on its way to a full-on beard now.

  I wait until he opens his eyes. Looks at me.

  “Fuck me,” I tell him, my voice hoarse from pleasure.

  I can see the fight in his eyes. The want to say no, the urge to say yes.

  His urges win.

  So do mine.

  In a flash he whips me around so I’m pressed up hard against the palm tree, the rough bark digging into the back of my head.

  He’s kissing me roughly, with impatience, teeth, lips, tongue all in a frenzy, creating a hurricane that will gladly consume us. Hands pinch my nipple, they make a fist around my ponytail. They skim over my hips, then slide between my thighs.

  The kiss deepens, hot, messy, the kind of kiss that makes my eyes roll back in my head, cause my toes to curl in the sand. It deepens and intensifies, spurring on a hunger on a very thorough level, as his fingers shove aside my underwear, already soaked from the ocean and from my own need.

  I’m practically begging for it by the time his finger slides along my clit.

  Ah.

  What I’ve been dying to feel.

  I cry out into his mouth, wanting, needing more of it. My legs part another inch.

  “Fuck,” he murmurs against my lips. “You’re drenched.”

  “That shouldn’t surprise you.”

  He grins. I know he’s remembering my sex dream, while his finger slowly glides along until it slips inside me.

  There is no turning back now.

  I gasp, a pornographic sound that surprises even me, and I immediately clench around him. Then another finger. Then another.

  “How many do you want?” he asks, lips going to my neck now, leaving quick, sharp kisses. “How many fingers until I’m at your pussy’s standards?”

  I let out a breathy laugh. “My pussy’s standards are high, but your cock will do.”

  “Patience, Gingersnap,” he says, licking up my earlobe, causing me to shiver. He’s found one of many sweet spots with that one. I have goosebumps.

  “Think I’ve been mighty patient,” I manage to say.

  “Maybe.” He starts thrusting his fingers in and out, slowly. “I want you to come o
n my hand. I want to know what that feels like. To make you do that, right here.”

  My knees are starting to give out as I try and accommodate his straining arm. “Pretty sure if I come on your hand, you might have to catch me.”

  “I’m already in a good position to do so,” he says, working me harder. He leans in and takes my bottom lip between his teeth before slowly pulling it into his mouth. Teases the inside of it with his tongue.

  Shit. I don’t think I’m going to make it long, I—

  The thought falls from my head as his thumb rubs against my clit.

  The pressure inside me goes over the threshold.

  My skin flushes like I’m on fire and then…

  I’m falling.

  Sinking against the palm tree.

  Falling into his hand.

  Letting go.

  Coming hard.

  Barely coherent noises spill from my mouth as my body feels like it’s being torn with pleasure. I quake and tremble and hold onto Tai as everything turns to comets and shooting stars, my heart and soul blasted through a prism.

  I’m never coming down from this.

  I don’t even know where this is, but I’d like to stay.

  Eventually, somehow, I come back to reality. The sun is so bright and Tai is still stroking me softly with his large hand, those skilled fingers easing up. He’s biting his lip as he grins at me, his eyes flickering with savagery and want that have only deepened.

  I’m still pulsing as he pulls his fingers out from inside me. My eyes barely focus as I watch him lick up the side of his forefinger. “Can’t tell what’s sweeter,” he says huskily. “You or the honey.”

  This man knows to say all the right things.

  He deserves all the right things, too.

  With a lazy, sated smile on my lips, I reach down and grab his cock inside his swim trunks, thick, long and hard. His mouth drops open, a moan escaping.

  I drop to my knees in the sand, undoing the Velcro at the top of his shorts and then tugging them down enough so his cock pops out.