Page 27 of Uncharted Desires
West had told no one about the pressures he felt daily, what it felt like to be him. Now, to top it all off, he was stuck on an island with a woman he would love to fuck, but shouldn’t. If he did he might develop feelings for her, and that wouldn’t bode well for him because he didn’t know what to do with a woman like that. A woman who wanted more from him than a physical relationship.
Toward the east, the first beams of sun were appearing over the horizon, telling him it was still early. He had never been so in tune with the sun’s position in the sky in his life, but now it had become integral to figuring out what time of day it was. Looking around, he realized Kat was nowhere in sight.
Shit.
Rubbing his hands through his hair he groaned, cursing his stupidity. He had chased her off. She thought him an asshole, and she had every right to. It was imperative for him to find her and apologize.
One of the coconuts they had filled with water had disappeared. He didn’t know if that meant she had gone to get more water, or if she was walking far away from him, and would need a drink. He hoped it was the former. Grabbing his own coconut, he took a drink and headed to the stream they had been filling from. She wasn’t there, but he filled up his water, keeping his eyes peeled for snakes. Mostly, Kat had been the one to fill up their coconuts since she had shoes. West was paranoid and didn't want to tempt fate again.
He couldn’t fathom where she would have gone without telling him. Even if she was mad at him, it wasn’t like she could get away from him. He made his way across the rockier part of the beach, cursing his lack of footwear once again. If he ever made it home, he would never go barefoot again.
West replayed the words she had said to him about his “daddy issues” in his head. She was right, but that hadn’t been the point. He hadn’t wanted to talk about being a walking rich kid cliché with daddy issues. She didn’t know the first thing about growing up with a famous father, the expectations to be just as talented, just as famous—the idea of doing anything different hadn’t even been possible. Even worse, there was the worry of wanting to be like his dad but not being half as good. Sure, his label was done with him, but this movie deal was also a chance for him to prove that he could do something besides make music, do something outside of his father’s shadow. To not fail at something.
She had asked if he was any good, and that was a question he asked himself all the time. He believed he had done quite well during his auditions. He was constantly training with his trainer, toning his body to perfection to play a CIA agent. Looking the part was half the battle, and he’d succeeded in that. Self-doubt crept in as he contemplated failing at another career.
When she had called him talented, it had taken everything within him not to ask her what she meant. Everyone had always attributed his talent to his father, not to his hard work or dedication to the craft. Kat on the other hand, saw him for his own person, saw his talent. Throughout all their years together he finally saw that she challenged him because he knew he had the potential to be better. Her love of music was clear, and he could see how much she hated that West was leaving it. It had been unclear to him whether her reasoning was because of their professional connection or her personal gain. He realized his foolishness for contemplating the former; his hurtful words had been uncalled for. He needed to find her and beg for forgiveness. She could be everything and more without him if only she’d take a chance on herself.
Coming around the corner he saw a shadow in the distance, silhouetted against the sun, and he realized it was Kat. Relief swept over him faster than the waves lapping at the beach. She stood on the flat part of the beach where there were no rocks. At first, he almost called to her, but then realized she was concentrating on doing yoga, dancing, or some kind of movement, soaking up the first rays of the sun.
Rather than interrupt her, he watched, mesmerized by the movement in her arms, waist, and hips. Her eyes were closed, and he could see her take deep breaths, exhaling in time with the waves. He wondered what she focused on. Her hair was down and flowing. She had been braiding it since they had been on the island, which gave him thoroughly lewd thoughts of roping them around his hands and yanking her to him, but now it was down and equally alluring as it fell across her back and shoulders.
He wanted to run his fingers through it. Her hips moved back and forth in time to the waves, her arms straight out to her sides now swinging side-to-side. A slight smile was on her face, and she looked so serene. West couldn’t believe she was the same woman he’d known for almost a decade. Here in this space, she looked like a goddess soaking up the sun.
The rising sun had warmed her skin as she made her way to the flat part of the beach. Whenever they could on tour, Kat, Lydia, and Cher would have a morning yoga session. This morning, Kat had woken up and decided that sunrise yoga was just what her weary soul needed. But it had devolved more into a dance. She had started with meditation, but all she could think about was West.
His perfect eyes sparkled cobalt blue, and his perfect jaw that could cut glass was now sporting the most perfect stubble that she wanted to rub her hands through, and his stupid perfect hair that was graying on the sides making him all kinds of sexy, rather than appearing old, all called out to her. Then she hated herself for her excessive use of the word perfect when describing him. Never mind she was supposed to be mad at him for being a complete moron to her the night before.
It had been impossible to focus and meditate, so she had gotten up and tried some yoga poses and vinyasa flows, but she needed some music because she kept getting distracted with that too. West consumed her thoughts when she was supposed to be clearing her mind.
“Get it together, Katrina,” she said to the vast ocean before her.
She sat staring out into the blue water, listening to the waves as they lapped in front of her and thought of a technique she had learned at one of the tribal gatherings called grounding. It was similar to grounding in yoga, but Native culture focused on the act of healing through nature, something she desperately needed if she was to survive their time on this island. Her shoes were already off, and she sank her feet into the sand, closing her eyes and facing the sun.
She emptied her mind of all thoughts, and with her arms hanging loosely by her side, she focused only on her senses, starting with the warmth of the early sun on her face and the coolness of the sand on her feet. Then she listened to the magic of nature around her: the waves gently sloshing against the beach in a rhythmic pattern; the breeze rushing through the leaves; the birds chirping in the trees, louder and more of them than she’d realized; the rustling in the treetops, from the macaques, perhaps. The sounds worked together in harmony, and soon she found music within them.
The vibrations through the ground moved through her feet and her body, causing her to move, and before she knew it, she was swaying to the music of nature. She started humming the tune she heard, and the music came to life. It was one of the most magical moments she had ever experienced, and she hoped she never forgot the music in her head that came from the beauty of this place.
She felt connected to the island and all its inhabitants. She could feel it pulsing through her. She breathed in the fresh air, and wished this moment would never end, that she never had to leave this place. She loved city life, but there was something so restorative about becoming one with the earth, despite the lack of comforts.
She felt a warm hand at the small of her back and a deep voice in her ear. “Don’t stop, it’s just me.”
Kat should’ve stopped. She should have felt embarrassed—he been watching her dancing and singing in the breeze, with no actual music playing, for who knew how long. She probably looked like a crazy person, but she couldn’t muster any embarrassment. She felt too calm, too at peace, and his touch sent further ripples of awareness through her. Her movements slowed and he grabbed her wrists, raising her arms back to where they had been.
“Don’t stop moving.” His lips grazed the shell of her ear. “What are you doing?” he asked, his breath fanning her neck, sending shivers down her spine.
She continued her movements, and behind her, his hands moved up her back and down her arms, holding onto her hands and allowing her to choose the movement as he moved with her. She backed against him, feeling every hard inch of him. Her senses had already been on high alert, but now his scent and touch overwhelmed her. His hand came around her middle, pulling her hips into his.
“Natives, like many ancient cultures, have a tradition of grounding,” she started, her voice more breathless than she wanted to sound. “We use our connection with the earth to heal our bodies or souls. We are just one small infinitesimal speck in the universe. As humans, we try to control nature, but in reality, we are beholden to it. Being on this island has reminded me of how true that is. I tried to focus, but it devolved into me hearing the music of the island and dancing to it . . . Listen.”
She placed one hand on top of his where it rested against her stomach, and he reached out to hold her other outstretched hand. They moved together in silence, listening to the sounds of the island, her back tucked tightly against him. She felt his breath on her nape, and she felt the electric current it sent all the way to her toes as they curled in the sand.
“This might be the sexiest image I’ve ever woken up to,” he whispered in her ear.
Her eyes snapped open, the ocean coming into focus as they adjusted to the light. He didn’t mean it, he couldn’t. This man woke up next to models, actresses, and pop stars. Plain old Kat dancing to the ocean breeze was not a sexy picture. She was also still mad at him for what he said last night.
Right?
“I think the snake venom is rotting your brain.”