by Ewing, A. B.
Hurrying to make the bed, she grabbed her towel and rushed off to the outdoor bathroom, the aroma of fried fish and freshly brewed soursop tea following her.
****
He swore the hand on his watch hadn’t moved an inch since he last looked at it—what seemed like an eternity ago. Rafe wished he had taken Dahlia’s phone number yesterday. Instead he had no choice, but to sit in this blasted hotel room and wait for her to arrive.
He contemplated several times whether to get in a taxi and go to her, but he decided against it. After all, he was a grown man not some lovesick teenager. But he itched to see her again, to hear that sweet seductive voice—to kiss those soft, pliable lips. Dios, five o’clock was taking forever to come.
He had deliberately chosen the Maracas Bay Hotel because of its close proximity to the beach. It was an intimate, property located on Trinidad's most popular beach. It was, also, an hour and a half drive via taxi service from Piarco International Airport and thirty minutes from downtown Port of Spain, Trinidad and Tobago’s capital city. It offered all the luxury conveniences amidst a backdrop of diverse tropical experiences and the air-conditioned room offered spectacular views of the Caribbean Sea.
Rafe had started his day with a traditional Trinidadian breakfast of Bake and fried aloo at the open air, circular restaurant Bandanya. Later he had settled on a wonderful plate of crab and dumplings for lunch.
From the balcony where he stood, he could see the nearby Maracas Fishing Village, the fishermen busy bringing in their day’s catch. He had not seen much of the island since his arrival four days ago, but the little he did see, peaked his curiosity.
A knock on the room door had him rushing to it, tripping over a chair in the process. Realizing his hasty action he stopped short, his hand on the handle. He waited for the knock to come again before he unhurriedly opened the door.
She stood on the other side, an enchanting creature of the afternoon, causing Rafe to inhale a quick breath. He was not prepared for the sudden palpitating in his chest. Dahlia stood there—her beautiful, long, curly hair pulled back in a single braid and he experienced a moment of disappointment at that. She wore simple jeans and a neatly fitted blouse. Gone were the offending glasses from the day before, her face void of any make-up except for a dash of gloss on her lips.
Before she could greet him he pulled her inside, shutting the door behind them and feasted on her inviting lips. She opened up to him immediately, giving him freely of herself, causing Rafe to groan at the pleasure he found from just kissing this woman. He gently tugged at the tie that held her braid, running his fingers freely through the silken length. His free hand traveled down to cup her waist, pulling her against his hard length. She moaned into his mouth burying her fingers in his hair.
Rafe quickly found that he was losing himself in the moment. He fought desperately to regain his composure, dragging his lips from hers. He rested his forehead against hers allowing his breathing to settle.
“I missed you.” He blurted out and was surprised at that. He didn’t realize that he did until opening the door and seeing her looking at him in all her beauty.
“I missed you too.” She returned, causing Rafe’s heart to lurch a fraction. It felt wonderful to know that she missed him too.
Grabbing his jacket from a nearby chair he said. “Let’s go. No, leave it down.” Rafe added when she reached for her hair in an obvious attempt to return it to its confines.
She hesitated a moment looking at him, but released the bundle when his fingers reached out to caress her high cheekbones.
Clasping her hand firmly in his, they left the hotel room; Rafe in very high spirits.
Once again they were sitting together in the backseat of a car, but unlike yesterday, their bodies were close together, her head resting on his shoulder. Dahlia looked at their entwined hands resting between them. She wanted to feel this way forever.
“We’re here.” Roger called from the driver’s seat of the black Ford Ranger. She reluctantly took her head from its nesting placed to observe her surroundings. Darkness had already enveloped outside. Beyond the glass of the window, she couldn’t see anything. Dahlia stifled a laugh when she glanced at Raphael and noticed the confused look on his face. The poor man probably thought they were going to rob him and leave him for dead.
“Raphael…?” He looked at her. “You look terrified. Don’t worry, I promise when you see what I have to show you, you will think it was all worth it.” She reassured him and took pleasure when his face relaxed.
Roger and Natasha were already out of the vehicle heading across the sand when Raphael and Dahlia alighted. The cool night air connected with her skin causing goose bumps to rise. Raphael noticing her reaction, to the cold ocean breeze, took the liberty of placing his jacket around her shoulders. Just like in the movies, she thought.
They followed her sister and brother-in-law to a spot on the sand. Placing a blanket, they sat observing the crowd of people that gathered on the beach. Raphael was paying close attention to something Roger was saying. He cocked a brow smiling at some silly comment, and Dahlia’s heart almost stopped. If she wasn’t careful, she could lose her heart to this man. She couldn’t let that happen. She didn’t know anything about him. He didn’t wear a ring, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t married. He must be at least ten years older than her, but did that really matter? She didn’t know. She didn’t want to be bothered with those things now. Tomorrow they would talk. Tonight she just wanted to be with Raphael.
Natasha had been wonderful, welcoming Raphael on their expedition with a big hug. Roger had been more hesitant, but as the conversation developed on the hour long drive the tension between the two eased away. She was glad they were getting along, after all these were the people that meant everything to her.
****
He wondered what event could draw all these people to a cold beach at this God forsaken hour of the night. Turning from his conversation with Dahlia’s brother-in-law, he admired his Princesa. The night was dark, but the light from the fireside flickered across her face illuminating her features revealing her natural beauty.
“Dey comin!” Someone shouted in a Trinidadian dialect and Rafe observed in silence, hoping to see who the excited man was speaking about.
Everyone was looking out at the sea, fingers pointing in that direction. Rafe’s eyes opened in amazement at his first glimpse of the large creature slowly emerging from the gentle waves. Inaudible murmurs covered the beach as more of the creatures made their way onto the sand.
He looked down at an excited Dahlia; she smiled up at him but offered no explanation. It was only when they were a few feet away, did Rafe realize what he was looking at. They were giant leatherback turtles. The enormous creatures crawled slowly to various parts of the sand and Rafe watch with bated breath as the turtles used its fin to begin, slowly, digging a hole in the sand. When the hole was deep enough it positioned itself above.
A man came forward in the darkness speaking quietly to the onlookers. “As you know, the leatherback turtle is a highly endangered creature, so we are here to assist you in learning about this immaculate animal, but also to guide you in viewing this spectacular event. Remember no pictures or torch lights until I say it is okay. We do not want to frighten them.” Rafe could barely make out the man in the darkness but he sounded educated in the nature of the gigantic sea creatures.
He stood with Dahlia, a hand around her, shielding her from the cold gust of wind that blew in from the sea. It felt so right holding her like this.
There were several other guides that took people in groups and ushered them to where the turtles were nesting addressing them ever so often. Children anxiously touched the hard surface of the shell and there were camera flashes as excited visitors hungered for a souvenir of tonight’s adventure.
When it was their turn, they stood behind the turtle with Rafe looking on as the magnificent creature deposited its eggs in the sand. It was a remarkable experience, one which Rafe kne
w he would remember forever. This would be something he would definitely tell his grandchildren.
Before long, they were back in the van and he was thankful for the warmth of the interior.
“So, what did you think?” An anxious Dahlia asked from next to him.
“I think you were right. It was worth all the secrecy and torture you put me through.” He smiled mischievously at her.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She grinned and snuggled closer to him. Loving the feel of her against him, he pulled her closer wrapping his hands around her.
“What are we seeing tomorrow?” He asked curiously. He knew he could hire a tour guide but he much rather spending time with Dahlia.
She pulled back a little studying his face for a while. “If you want, we could take a boat down the island…you would love that.” She suggested.
He bent closer to whisper in her ear. “Does that mean I get to see you in that wicked piece of cloth you call a bathing suit again?”
She gasped, his words causing her to blush a scarlet red. She glanced at her sister in the front passenger seat, trying to decipher whether or not she had heard Raphael’s comment, but if she did she showed no sign.
When she didn’t answer, he continued. “It doesn’t matter where we go as long as you are there with me.” Such simple words, but he knew they meant much more and he meant every word.
It was well after midnight when they dropped him off at his hotel. Natasha allowed Dahlia to see him up to his room.
Once inside, he pulled her against him and devoured her soft mouth. She didn’t fight him, instead reaching under his shirt to touch the warm skin at his waist. He backed her against the door, his hands cupping her bottom to lift her so he could gain better access to her mouth. He pulled her legs around his waist pressing his aroused length against the juncture of her thigh.
“Ah, Dahlia! Tus besos me vuelven loco.” He breathed the words into her open mouth. He didn’t lie; her kisses did drive him crazy.
He cursed the damn pants she was wearing—as his fingers fought to find bare skin. The throbbing in his veins increased at the first touch of the soft skin below her ribcage against his hand. She purred at his touch and Rafe thought he would go mad with wanting her. He pulled away from her kiss but continued holding her. “Dahlia, I want you so much.”
“I want you too, Raphael.” She informed him as her lips sought his again.
He kissed her a moment longer before he pulled away from her. Taking her hands from around his neck, he lowered her feet to the floor. “Not like this. When I make love to you, it will not be rushed. I want to take my time to explore your body, to kiss every inch of your soft skin. And when I finally claim you, I want to see your face below me, I want to see the pleasure I give you, Dahlia.” He paused for a second making sure she understood what he was saying. “Your sister is downstairs waiting for you. We are getting along well so far. I do not wish to give her any reason to dislike me.” He searched for some sign on her face to acknowledge that she understood him.
She rose to her tippy toes to kiss him gently on the cheeks. “Do not worry, Raphael; you have nothing to fear from Tasha. It’s Roger you should be worried about.” She giggled at the expression that crossed his face and he couldn’t resist placing one last kiss on her before he released her completely.
This time before she left, he made sure to take her phone number. He stood outside his door and watched as she disappeared down the hall way. Shutting the door behind him, he quickly disrobed, heading for the shower; he needed a cold one.
****
Chapter 4
Rafe lay on his hotel room bed—bare from the waist up, an arm carelessly flung across his eyes. Six days. That’s how long it had been since he last saw Dahlia. Calls to the number she gave him went unanswered and after several visits to her house he had finally given up. He couldn’t understand why she would disappear without telling him. That night, when they had gone turtle watching on Mathura beach, they had enjoyed themselves and their kisses were full of promises. So, why would she run off? Had she somehow found out about his impending marriage? The thought of marriage to Sarafina no longer held any appeal for him. He didn’t know how his parents would react, but he was definitely going to call off the wedding. He couldn’t get married to anyone when he had this desperate longing for a beautiful, brown-eyed island princess.
He got up from the bed, walking to the balcony looking out at the people on the beach. His eyes scanned the crowd, hoping for any sign of a familiar bronzed skin beauty. But no such luck! Dammit!
Back inside his room, Rafe went to the phone, his finger automatically dialing the seven digits for the hundredth time. He knew the damn number by heart already.
“Hi, this is Dahlia. Sorry I can’t come to the phone right now, leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”
Rafe swore, jamming the phone back on its hanger. Why the hell didn’t she answer her phone? He was overwhelmed with a sense of frustration—quickly followed by anger. He turned, slamming his fist repeatedly into the wall, mindless of the damage he was doing to his knuckles. Later, when his anger subsided there would be hell to pay, but for now he welcomed the distraction. He ran both of his hands through his hair, then buried his face in them. How is it that Dahlia, whom he had seen for two days, has this kind of effect on him? How did this little vixen get under his skin, unmasking emotions he never knew he was capable of feeling?
Confused by these unfamiliar thoughts, Rafe grabbed the bottle of Vodka from the bar and flopped down on the lounge chair on the balcony. Popping the cap, he raised the bottle to his mouth and winced when the warm liquor scorched a path down his throat. He would try just about anything to get Dahlia out of his mind and right now, a couple of stiff drinks seem to be doing the trick.
****
The morning after, Rafe woke up with a nasty hang over—which only fueled his anger. It had been years since he drank so much in one night and he was now paying the price.
After a long soak in the cold sea and a couple cups of coffee the pounding in his head receded to a dull throb. His hand hurt like hell, but even that wasn’t enough to make him forget her. It was almost lunch time and although he didn’t eat breakfast, he wasn’t hungry, at least not for food that is. Powering on his laptop he pulled up the airline website. He wanted the earliest flight out. There was no reason to stay here anymore. If he did stay, the remaining three weeks would be pure hell.
Even if he never saw Dahlia again, he still couldn’t marry Sarafina. He thought it only fair that she know that. He would deal with his parents after. He was about to punch in his credential when a soft knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He tried to ignore it, hoping the person would go away but it came again, a little louder this time.
Swearing under his breath he strode to the door, prepared to bark at the intruder. Jerking it open he stilled at the sight of Dahlia standing there. He forgot whatever it was he wanted to say. He forgot that he was supposed to get rid of the intruder.
“Hi, Raphael…” The two words were just a whisper, but it was music to his ears. He didn’t know what to say. She had been gone for seven days without a word and suddenly she was standing in front of him.
Relief flooded him at the sight of her but his earlier anger quickly resurfaced. “Hi, Raphael…?¿Eso es todo? This is all you can say to me after seven days without even a phone call?” Dios! He was sounding like a jealous boyfriend. Sean would have a fit if he saw him now; he would definitely have a field day with Rafe’s actions.
A curious looking maid stood a few doors down, paying close attention to the obvious confrontation. Not wanting his private life to be a free topic of gossip for the hotel staff, he snatched Dahlia’s hand jerking her into the room, slamming the door behind them. Whirling around he was ready to do battle, but faltered when he saw her strained face and swollen eyes. His anger fizzled out quickly, replaced by concern.
“Dahlia, what is it? What happened?” He touched her cheek w
ith a trembling hand and at that moment Rafe knew that he didn’t care where she had been the past seven days, he was just happy she was here now. She came back to him. That must mean something.
“I’m sorry I left without telling you, but it all happened so fast. The night after the turtle watching when we got home there was a message waiting on the phone. My aunt in Boston…she was in an accident, she was asking for me. My uncle had already booked emergency tickets for us, so we left that same night. I know I should have left you a message or something but I was confused. When we got there everything happened so quickly. She died the next day, but I got to see her…” Her voice broke then and Raphael gathered her into his arms. Her body shook for a long time as she cried silently.
His heart ached for her and he wished there was some way he could ease her pain. Feeling like every kind of fool, he scolded himself. These past couple of days he had been concerned that she left because of him. He hadn’t spared a moment to think that something bad had happened.
When her cries were nothing but a series of watery hiccups, she moved away from him, looking him in the eye. “Are you angry at me? I was worried that when I came back you wouldn’t be here.” Those beautiful brown eyes silently pleaded for understanding.
“I am not angry anymore, Corazón, just happy that you’re safe and here with me.” Taking her hand, he guided her to the sofa and pulled her down with him. “I’m sorry about your aunt.” He offered a sympathetic smile.
She smiled up at him teary eyed, and Rafe knew a great moment of happiness at having this woman is his life.
“I missed you so much.” She whispered.
“Not as half as I missed you, my Dahlia.”
She leaned forward; kissing him on his lips, breaking down the scrap of barrier he erected the past couple of days. He accepted what she offered—opening his mouth, allowing her tongue to slip past his teeth.
At the first touch she groaned, positioning her body, bringing her breast against his chest. Her hand tunneled through his hair locking his mouth to hers. Still he didn’t move, for fear of losing control. She strained—trying to get closer, her tiny body rocking against his, an urgent need he detected deep within her.