Somehow during her sleep, she was sure her joints must have dissolved. Her body felt like liquid heat as his touch flowed over her in gentle waves. And yet everything about him, other than his touch, had become solid mass. To ground herself, she slowly reached for his hip, flowing touch down it, taking sweatpants with it, washing away fabric with the insistent surf of her hand. His breathing stopped for a moment as her warm, wet waves pelted pure stone behind her. Just as water wears down rock, it was only a matter of time. She could feel him begin to dissolve into sand ... his erosion started with a quiet moan that he swallowed to preserve her dignity. Then a quick feral kiss that he pressed against her temple, his arms gathering her closer to brace against the inevitable.
A storm of passion had arisen out of nowhere from what was otherwise calm. Deepening, building, torrential. . . slick, wet rhythm, the sound of pelting rain, his breaths gale force in her hair, there was no way to stop rushing water. He wasn't even in her ocean, just lapping against her shore and feeling her smooth, engorged pebble. That alone had devastated him . . . had ruined her. And yet a storm was still building, one that looked innocent enough from the onset, but had category five written all over it.
She felt the unspoken question in his mind--the tension in his body transmitted it, his openmouthed breaths �wind-chanted it. Yes, it was going to be a big one, hold on.
No one could fight the ocean, the element of water, not even her. One swirling eddy, one deep spine snap, and he was engulfed, plunging into drowning heat that put fangs in his mouth and her face into the pillow.
He turned away from her throat, survival instinct making him cling to the last vestige of sanity he owned, but she was caught up--building, climbing, a wall of raw power and water and intensity that fisted the sheets as she bit her lip, neither willing to cry out to betray personal tsunamis.
The moment she went under, he succumbed, let go, and drowned hard . . . convulsing into breath-stopping shudders that bloodied his lip. Panting, holding on to each other tightly, they washed ashore to a place of calm, not opening their eyes for a long while.
Slowly, as their breathing normalized, his hand found that same lazy pattern that had started it all... like an ancient mariner's nautical sight, he knew her sand shoals, her eddies, her deep water. Understood her storms and respected them, just like her cloudless, crystal-blue days. His kiss had charted her long ago, and yet she was still a mystery, so much of her unknown by man. Depths that had yet to be explored. Her heart a siren's call to his, two souls inextricably linked. He'd been seduced by her since forever; had given up the struggle not to drown in Damali... it was what it was. He would gladly die at sea.
He kissed her damp shoulder and nuzzled her hair, his mouth now hungering for hers in the worst way. She turned to him to offer what he sought; it was a ritual between them. Her beautiful brown eyes smoky, her expression serene, sated. A soft, graceful hand caressed his cheek. Her turned his face into it and kissed her palm.
"Te amo," he murmured, tracing her collarbone with a finger.
"I love you, too," she whispered before she took his mouth again.
"We need to get another shower." He smiled and closed his eyes.
"Yeah," she murmured with a smile, closing her eyes. "In a little while."
Damali gently caressed the pearl in her choker necklace with deep reverence as she and Carlos took plates of stir-fry veggies and rice to the top deck. From this point forward, she would stop giving her oracle the blues. Pearl had obviously grown, had become more subtle in her prognostications and predictions. Damali swallowed a private smile--time that Pearl had spent with the Neteru Queens had clearly infused wisdom and a lot of grace. The group nap she'd suggested wasn't as much about physical rest as it was about emotional release and comforting damaged spirits through the healing art of touch, love sublime. "Hey, everybody." Damali gave the group a relaxed smile, searching for room on the table to add her bounty. People had made crackers and cheese, tuna sandwiches, peanut butter and jelly, hummus and chips, and steamed dumplings from the frozen food bags. She chuckled softly. "I guess Inez is crashing, because this sure doesn't have her stamp of coordinated grub on it."
"Hey . . ." Juanita said, laughing. "Did the best we could under the circumstances."
"Yo," Carlos said quietly, smiling wide. "Brought some grub to add to the party. I found some vegetables down there in the freezer. Don't make me get Mar on you, eating dinner with nothing green on your plates."
"Tell me y'all fixed Monty a plate?" Damali began filling a clean plate with grub for their captain.
"You know we took care of homeboy," Yonnie said with a yawn. "Sinclair is da man"
"Good, but I hope you didn't give him all of this and made him something that makes sense," Damali said with a skeptical grin.
"See, now you hatin'," Juanita said, laughing. "We gave him a little of everything as we brought it up from the kitchen."
"Oh, maaaan, you'll have him sick as a dog with all that rolling around in his gut."
Carlos shook his head. "Y'all trying to put our captain out of commission, or what?"
"Dang, C, we ain't think about all of that."
Damali and Carlos stared at each other for a moment and then burst out laughing as she quickly took Monty a sensibly arranged plate anyway. To her surprise, Carlos went with her, bringing some bottled water and juice.
"You cool?" Carlos asked, offering Monty something cold to drink.
"Good as ever; I'm too excited about this adventure to sleep yet," Monty replied with a big smile, and then motioned with his chin to a small table where they could leave his food. "Your hospitality warms my heart. I feel so useful, so alive . . . like I've gotten a brand-new family."
"You have." Damali hugged Monty and then quickly stood aside so Carlos could welcome him, too. "We are family now," Damali said, truly meaning it in her soul. "There was a reason we all came together. Believe that."
"I do, with all my heart," Monty said. "I haven't been this happy in a long time, isn't that odd?" He looked from Damali to Carlos, eyes beaming with delight. "Now, go, relax, and leave me to my thoughts. This is my time when I just daydream and watch the sea . . . very calming."
"I can appreciate that, man," Carlos said, threading his arm around Damali's waist. "Thanks, again . . . seriously, for putting it all on the line."
Easy salutations and waves met Damali and Carlos with laughs when they returned. Folks were sprawled out across the comfortable seating, looking like it was an effort not to fall asleep where they sat.
As she glanced around the top deck, every couple that had been given so-called R and R was holding hands, touching in some way, their gazes gentle, expressions serene. She watched their auras mingle in the waning, orange-red sunset haze of Caribbean dusk, opalescent hues shimmering against a background of pale purple and darkening blue. Lovers engaged in a private dance. It was written all over their faces; they'd all used the time the same way--to bond, strengthen the cord of man and wife through touch and skin reverence, deep soul-level appreciation. Each had brought a portion of a meal to the top deck, an offering for their fellow teammates and their spouses to break bread and cherish whatever time left them that God would allow.