Taking the Heat (19 page)

Inside my suite, I was shocked to see it was still in one piece; the glass sliding doors weren't even cracked. The power was out, but that wasn't an issue. After spending the night in shock on a crowded mattress, my bed looked like a paradise of pillows and white sheets. I flopped into it, submitting to sleep, hoping that when I woke up, I would have a plan to make things right with Chris.

***

Banging roused me. ‘Tara! Open the fucking door!'

I squinted in the late-afternoon sun, slanting in through my windows. Grumbling, I rolled out of bed and let Clara in. ‘I was asleep, just so you know.'

‘I don't fucking care, just so you know.' Despite her tough words, Clara was all sweetness and light, bouncing happily inside and jumping on my bed. ‘It's a free-for-all out there, fucking candyland—why are you in here sleeping?'

‘What are you talking about?'

‘I thought you might have missed the message.' She grinned cheekily. ‘All filming is suspended until they can get the lights back on. There's no working cameras and the touch restrictions are lifted. It's fucking awesome!'

‘I take it you're staying with Toshi, then.'

She jiggled with sexual energy. ‘You bet your sweet Aussie ass, I am. I thought I was going to fucking die when that storm hit.'

‘Oh god, were you hurt?'

‘Fuck, no! I was sitting on Toshi's face, about two seconds from coming like a fucking freight train—'

I clapped my hands over my ears. ‘Jesus! Clara—TMI!'

‘Oh, grow the fuck up. Anyway, the storm ripped the tent off and left me hanging like a randy bitch. And being stuck in the storeroom all night, with everyone around us, we couldn't do anything. Well, hardly anything, just fingers …'

‘Clara …'

‘Just fingers! God, what's your fucking problem?' She rolled her liquid eyes at me. ‘So, this morning, they told me my cabin is trashed and that I could stay with Toshi. We've been going at it all day. I swear to fucking god, I'm so sore, I'm walking like a cowboy.'

‘That's very nice for you,' I said straight-faced. ‘So, why are you here? Did Toshi run out of steam?'

She stretched her arms high. ‘Oooh. That's better. He's napping right now, so I went out to find food, and I ran into Chris, working like a fucking Mexican with the crew down at the bungalow. I figured you guys didn't know about the touch restrictions being suspended, otherwise he'd be cock-deep in you right now, so I dropped by to tell you.'

There was so much to process in that paragraph: the casual racism, the mention of Chris' penis, and the fact that she was actually doing something nice for me. ‘Thanks, Clara, but it doesn't make a difference. Chris doesn't want to see me right now.'

‘Are you fucking dense? That guy fucking
exists
for you.'

‘Not since last night. You saw what happened when he left, right?'

‘You mean, did I see you melt down like a fucking
American Idol
contestant when they get the ass?'

‘Yes, that.'

‘Of course I fucking saw it. You were pretty fucking hard to ignore.' She examined her nails casually, inspecting for chips. ‘It looked like Jen and Henry had you covered.'

‘That's the thing,' I tried to explain. ‘When Chris got back, he just saw me with Henry and he freaked out. He thought I ditched him, just because he was gone for a few hours.'

‘That is the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard! Of course you weren't hooking up with Henry!' She was on her feet, eyes flashing in righteous anger.

‘I tried to tell him, but he wouldn't listen.'

‘So, what? You just give the fuck up?'

‘No. I just don't know what to do next.' I stared at the carpet, void of feeling. I'd ruined the one night I had allowed myself to enjoy, and that was all on me.

Clara made an announcement. ‘You need to see him. Go in an hour.'

‘Clara—'

‘Don't even bother arguing with me, bitch. You know I'll fucking win. Go over to his room in an hour. Now, I'm outtie. There's a hot piece of ass in my bed and he's about to get woken up with some expert fellating.'

I let it slide. She skipped off out the door, looking like the picture of innocence.

***

It took me nearly an hour to find Chris' room; I had to bribe Greg with the promise of an exclusive shot of me crying the next time it happened. The cameraman pointed me in the right direction and I stood nervously outside Chris' door, my hand lifted but too scared to knock.

Just fucking do it!
screamed a voice in my head, one that sounded suspiciously like Clara.

But I don't even know what I'll say!

Knock first, think later.

I rapped on the wood three times, and stood, anxiously awaiting whatever was coming next.

Chapter 19

Aanya was inside Chris' room, her luxurious hair flowing loose over her perfect breasts. Holding a sheet to her chest, she was pulling at his arm, desperately preventing him from coming outside. He submitted to her wish, falling back onto the bed with her. Kissing her smooth brown skin in a thousand places, he ignored the knocking, the tentative taps unimportant as he sucked gently on Aanya's pert nipple. Silently, they began to make love, her camel-like eyelashes closing in pleasure as he slid insider her and they rocked in perfect harmony.

At least, that's what my over-active imagination pictured when no one answered the door.

Dusk was falling, the birds chirping as the island settled down for the evening. I banged again, this time harder. The clock ticked off what felt like twenty minutes, but Chris didn't appear. The room was silent; either he was a super-amazing hider or he wasn't back yet.

Or he and Aanya were sleeping, napping in a post-coital haze, their naked limbs intertwined, the scent of their love-making hanging in the air—

‘Tara?'

Chris' voice called from behind me, further down the path. I spun towards him, shocked at what I saw.

He looked like an extra from a George Romero flick; he was a shuffling, bloody, hollow-eyed mess. Last night's clothes hung from his frame in tatters, the material and his skin covered in every shade of filth. Dried and fresh blood decorated his arms and face, and he staggered, close to collapsing.

I ran to him and tried to support him with my shoulder. ‘Oh my god, Chris! What happened?'

‘Tara, babe, I'm so sorry.' He was mumbling his words, his lips refusing to move in exhaustion. ‘I just saw Clara.'

‘Let's get you inside, then we can talk.'

Deeply concerned, I led him into the room, steering him to the couch. He dropped like a bag of wet laundry, and I filled a glass of water from the tap for him.

I watched him drink it, then asked, ‘What did Clara say?'

‘She told me I'm a fucking idiot. She told me what happened when I left, and how Jen and Henry helped you.' His face was distraught. ‘Babe, I'm sorry, I just lost it when I saw you with him. I should have let you explain.'

‘It's fine, don't worry about it,' I soothed, running my hand over his matted hair.

‘It's not. I should have listened to you. I was just tired, I didn't sleep all night, just lay there imagining you in his arms.'

He sank into my side, nuzzling into me. ‘What happened out there with Aanya?' I asked.

‘It was fucking terrifying. Shit was flying everywhere; I almost had my head taken off by a piece of flying tin metal. Then I couldn't find her anywhere. Her room was smashed to pieces. I thought she was dead.' He shook a little. ‘I screamed her name, and heard her crying, huddled against a big tree. She'd done something to her ankle, she couldn't walk. I couldn't make it the whole way carrying her, so we stopped to rest for an hour or so in another cabin, but then the windows blew in and the whole room started to sway. I ran for it. I thought we were gonna die.'

I squeezed him. ‘I thought you did. What have you been doing all day today, then?'

‘I didn't want to stop. If I did, I'd have to think about losing you. So I worked with the clean-up crew, moving trees, clearing glass. I haven't stopped.'

‘You can stop now,' I told him. ‘It's my turn to look after you.'

‘No, you don't have to do that.'

‘I don't have to. I want to.' I pulled him to his feet and into the bathroom.

He followed me like a kite on a sting, too fatigued to argue.

Night had fallen, and the bathroom was lit by three flickering artificial candles. The semi-darkness was almost womb-like, the tiled room a silent, safe place. Chris stood in front of me as I stripped off his filthy pants and crusty vest. I hooked my thumbs on the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down. It wasn't sexy, the way it had been between us before, but there was an intimacy to caring for him I found even more sensual.

I'd showered before leaving my room, but I quickly shed my shorts and tee, and the two of us stood, naked but beyond modesty.

Manoeuvring Chris into the shower, I sat him on the ledge in under the nozzles. He closed his eyes as I ran the water, keeping it gentle and warm. I left one nozzle raining down on us, and lifted the other off its cradle, directing the flow onto Chris' skin.

As delicately as I could, I washed the storm away. With a mild body wash, I soaped up a shower puff and ran it over his broad, damaged shoulders, pulling splinters and embedded muck from the shallow cuts in his flesh. He shivered as I shampooed his hair, cleansing him, rinsing off the hurt. I ran my fingers through the thick strands, using my nails to scrape along his scalp and he moaned, helpless against my ministrations.

Once I'd sprayed the lather away, I turned my attention to his lower body. His feet were like blackened stumps; I dropped to my knees to bathe them, doubling up on the soap. His strong calves were like steel under my fingers, and the dense leg hairs had grime trapped in a dozen places.

When his feet were clean, I squirted an extra glob of body wash into my hands and softly, so softly, cleaned his face, concentrating on his stubbled chin and grubby brow. He leaned into my fingers, groaning and almost asleep.

With utmost care, I used the last of the soap to carefully bath his gorgeous manhood, lying long and thick against his thigh. Shuddering, he allowed me to clean his most private of places, trusting me with his body.

The soap washed down the drain, I shut off the water and grabbed two fluffy bath sheets. Working over his skin, I dried up every nook and cranny, taking care over the cuts and grazes, and special caution when drying between his legs.

Towelling myself off quickly, I grasped both of his hands and pulled him to his feet. Supporting him, I moved us out to the bedroom.

‘This is not how I pictured the first time we'd be naked together,' he murmured, eyes lidded low.

‘I won't be the last time,' I promised.

I lowered him to the cotton sheets, arranging a light cover over his nude form. Once he was horizontal, Chris visibly relaxed into the mattress, turning his face to the pillow. I thought he was unconscious, but as I moved away to fill another glass of water, he gripped my wrist. ‘You won't leave, will you?'

Blue eyes strained to keep me in focus, and I reassured him. ‘No, baby, I'll be here all night and right next to you when I wake up in the morning.'

‘I love you, Tara.' They were his last words before submitting to sleep.

I arranged water glasses and debated whether or not to put my clothes back on. Exhaustion won out, and I sank into the bed next to him.

My body sought him like a magnet, and I curled to his side, our flesh moulding together as I drifted off to sleep, happy to breathe the same air as him.

***

Transcript of Tara M's video diary: Day 14

I slept deeply, with no dreams or interruptions. It was as if Chris' presence was a sleep aid, lulling me into a state of complete relaxation. Unconscious for about twelve hours, the first sensation to rouse me was the feeling of tender lips on my neck.

If it was a dream, it was a happy one. The mouth on me raised goose bumps wherever it moved, across my collarbone and down to the space between my breasts. I moaned, yielding to the sensation as the lips dipped lower and pressed against the flat plane of my stomach.

I raised my hands to the head caressing my body. A tongue darted out and swirled around in my belly button, causing me to gasp at the rush of heat and liquid to my core.

The head moved lower and a sudden series of nips to my upper thighs sparked me awake.

It wasn't a dream; the brilliant sunshine poured in the windows and Chris grinned up at me from between my naked legs. ‘Good morning, gorgeous.'

‘Feeling better?' I breathed, although it wasn't really a question. His cheeks were flushed and his chest heaved. His fingers never stopped moving, cupping around the firm globes of my backside.

‘This is the best I've ever felt.' His answer was honest and I smiled back at his sparking baby blues.

Raising my arms above my head, I gave him permission to continue. He did, with gusto.

He thrust my thighs apart and I mewled a little. He crawled back up my body, bowing his head to my left nipple. His lips were molten as he sucked the hard bud into his mouth, rolling his tongue around it. My eyes closed, unable to function in the face of so much pleasure.

As he worked one nipple with his mouth, he caught the other in his fingers, pulling and pinching it to maximum firmness. I squirmed under his attention, bucking my hips to his chest, feeling the growing moisture flowing, desperate for what came next.

Chris slowly closed his teeth on my left nub, drawing back his head, stretching the breast with him. I squeaked as he released it, the round weight bouncing back to my chest. Immediately, he locked over the other nipple and repeated the process. The sight of my hard pink bud between his lips drove me over the edge, and I ran a foot between his thighs, seeking the hardness I knew would be there.