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“Come back to bed.” I ushered her to it then climbed over her to spoon. The best benefit ever. I should’ve been praying for a cyclone all along.
“You make that sound dirty.”
“True.”
I coughed as if her hair had annoyed me then smoothed it away from my face, exposing her nape with all those sweet little spirals of hair. When she snuggled back into me, I considered nibbling her there. My cock pulsed in agreement.
Don’t push. She’s coming around to letting me touch her again.
“Where else have you been during a cyclone?”
“An apartment in Port Moresby, and on an island, that was the worst. The big seas ripped up the beach. A friend who’s a pilot uses one as a waypoint for his seaplane on the way to Australia.” Illegally. I’d been stuck there for days. There were the remnants of an old ramshackle resort on the island from almost World War Two days.
“Trust me, this is far better than huddling in a decrepit hut praying that I wouldn’t get sliced up by the next bit of corrugated iron whirling past.”
At that, something slammed into the other side of the wall the bed rested against. I reached back and placed my palm on the ice-cold concrete. The winds rose in tone to a shrill whistle and a hum that vibrated the wall.
“What. The fuck. Was that?”
Gregor’s dead body, I hoped. “No idea. Maybe you should try to sleep?”
The power failed and she shivered.
“It’s okay. We don’t need it.”
Hours later, the serene eye of the storm arrived over us. The wind dropped to nothing. It was cold but all was quiet. Midday by now? We had no watch and the sun wasn’t easy to see. Blue sky showed beyond the pillow’s edges. In here was dark.
“Wow. That’s it?”
“We’re in the eye of the storm. Depending on whether we’re on the edge or in the middle it could last ten minutes or ages.”
She glanced over her shoulder at me and wriggled into a sitting position. “Then the cyclone comes back?”
“Yes.” Fascinated, I smoothed my hand up the back of her dress over her spine.
As if I’d poked her with a pin, she jumped up and went to the tap, turned it on. “It’s still working!”
“Good.”
“I’ll just get a drink.”
I sat on the mattresses’ edge. With my elbows on my knees, I watched her potter about drinking, going on tiptoes as if to look out the window, then at last she walked over and sat at the other end of the bed.
My frown arrived after a small struggle. Was she so fickle? “You’re avoiding me.”
Her eyes squeezed shut. “I just don’t want to give you the wrong idea.”
My next words would be setting a trap for myself, but I said them anyway. “Which is? You’ve been in my arms for the last two or three hours. The idea I’d gotten was that you’d figured I was safe after all. A friend.”
Her sigh lasted ages and seemed to deflate her like a balloon. She covered her face with her hands. I waited, impatient, but I waited.
Being impatient was a revolutionary emotion for me but damn if this woman wasn’t frustrating.
“What you are to me is so warped I don’t know where to begin. Friend seems wrong. Don’t you see? I don’t want you to think that I like you...that way.”
That way? What the fuck did it matter? When we’d possibly die tomorrow? When we could comfort each other? “You hate me that much? As soon as the scary storm dies down you can’t stand me?”
Her green eyes looked over the top of her hands. “I...no. You’ve been kind to me. It’s me. I’m not into close contact that much anyway. It’s just me.”
