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,