Days pass in relative peace. We rig makeshift shelters, gather coconuts and fish for food. The tropical sun bakes our skin. Elena and I claim a secluded patch of shoreline for ourselves, seeking slivers of normalcy in our bizarre fugitive life.
But with no immediate threat, the simmering lust between us explodes. One afternoon, we slip away to the lagoon—clear blue water shimmering under the sun. We wade in, laughter breaking the tension that's dogged us. She wraps her legs around my waist, the water buoying us. Our kisses grow heated, hands wandering beneath the surface.
We lose ourselves in an erotic dance—soft splashes, breathy moans, my mouth tracing the curve of her throat. The water cools our heated skin, but each shift of her hips stokes a new wave of pleasure. She clutches me, murmuring my name between ragged gasps. The moment we sink into that sweet crescendo, the lagoon seems to spark with our shared ecstasy, water rippling around us in shimmering waves.