Chapter 14: The Waterfall

Taylor lay stretched on the sun-warmed slab of volcanic rock, ten feet above the hidden pool, letting the heat soak into his bones.
The day had been good: traps heavy with parrotfish and lobster, fillets cleaned and hung on a new smoking rack he’d built from green bamboo, a long, cold shower under the falls that had washed two weeks of salt and sweat from his skin.
Now the sun pressed him into the stone like a lazy hand, eyelids heavy, drifting toward sleep.

Then the laughter came—bright, liquid, edged with breathlessness. The sound slid under his ribs and settled low in his gut.

He eased forward until his chin hung over the lip of the rock.

Below him, the pool was a shard of turquoise glass ringed by black lava and dripping ferns. The waterfall poured down the cliff face in a white roar, throwing up a fine cool spray that tasted of minerals and green things when he licked his lips.

And in the center of it all, two naked bodies moved through the water like living flame.

Brittany stood directly under the heaviest part of the falls. The torrent hammered her shoulders, streamed in silver rivers between her fuller, heavier breasts, sheeted off the flare of her hips. Each breath lifted those lush curves; water beaded on her nipples like liquid diamonds before the next cascade tore them away. When she tilted her head back, throat exposed, droplets caught the sun and blazed like scattered stars across her collarbones.