Left to her own devices, the wounded Lagoon 620 drifted listlessly over the now calm ocean. She had been mindful to let her surrogate masters rest for the better part of the day, but eventually found herself exposed to the bright sun, streaming its vicious rays through the cabin’s window, hitting purposefully Ma?l’s left eyelid. He ignored the intrusion to the best of his abilities, honed by decades spent lazing in bed, and tried to shift his body to the other side, a time-honored maneuver.

  It didn’t work.

  Strangely, he had encountered a resistance, a warm, delicate resistance weighing on his chest, breathing softly into his neck. Confused, he struggled to decide if he should open his eyes and face a new day or if he should yank the cover above his head, another well-honed strategy he had employed in the past with much success. Inconceivably, this attempt was also thwarted by that same delightful force. There was no helping it.

  He opened his eyes.

  Kaori was curled up over him, using his chest as a pillow. His arm rested protectively on her naked body. He examined the landscape of her forms revealed to his eyes by the generous warmth of the sun rays. Such magnificence! Memories of the night’s struggles surfaced sluggishly through the thick layers of his still groggy consciousness.

  Oh yeah, there was a storm, wasn’t there, he acknowledged mentally, thoroughly unconcerned by such a minor revelation. Kaori was lying on him, naked. How could he be expected to care about anything else?

  Her chest was pressed against his ribs, her left leg wrapped over his. He was trapped as surely as… something that was well and truly trapped, he thought. Metaphors didn’t come easy at this time of the day. He caressed lightly her hair with the tips of his fingers, twirled her hair strands, and pursued his journey of discovery around her shoulders, down her back and finally resting his hand on the side of her hip. She stirred lazily and dug her chest against his, kneading herself a more comfortable spot. She appeared to hold a similar policy to his own in regard to early morning—or late afternoon—disturbances.

  Now fully awake in more ways than one, Ma?l struggled with his own version of the irresistible force—immovable object paradox, stirred by a desire that couldn’t be denied and shackled by crippling self-doubt and common decency.

  Their entire story thus far could be summed up in a single word. Survival. They needed each other, they were good for each other, they worked well with each other, they liked each other, they cared deeply for each other… but did she love him or was he simply taking advantage of the situation and of her current weakness?

  He was under no illusion: she wouldn’t have given him a second look if it weren’t for the extraordinary circumstances they found themselves in.

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  Then again, those were truly the circumstances. Why should he hold himself back until such a time she came to her senses and regained enough gumption to reject his advances?

  He longed for the clarity of the caveman days. She would have clobbered him over the head and dragged him into her cave… or not.

  That was the crux of the problem, wasn’t it?

  He ran his eyes lovingly over her soft features and realized she was peering at him from the corner of her eye. Her eye lids snapped shut, but too late. He had caught her and she knew it. He considered pretending he hadn’t seen her, but he knew that she knew that he knew that…

  Instead, he caressed her back again as she arched under his fingers, pressing her firm mounds further into his chest.

  “Wake up, sleepyhead! It’s a bright day out.” Ma?l said in a singsong voice.

  She stretched out against his body and clasped him tighter.

  “Five more minutes!” she whispered.

  Five minutes turned into ten, then fifteen, twenty, and soon they dozed off again for real. The night had drained every ounce of strength from their bodies.

  When Kaori stirred from her slumber, the room was lightly bathed in the moonlight. Ma?l was still out, his arm protectively placed around her, softly holding her body against his. She lifted his arm carefully and he rolled onto his back. He was breathing comfortably, his chest rising and falling in rhythm, like lazy waves washing over a sandy shore. She propped herself up to an elbow and examined the large frame innocently sprawled across the bed. His chiseled features were accentuated by the silvery light. He wore a light stubble. She glanced at his chest, running her hand over it as if to compensate for the low light.

  His relaxed muscles were thick and solid, but his skin was soft and elastic to the touch. She ventured her hand lower, exploring his abdominal region, a succession of smooth hills separated by narrow valleys she could see as deeper shadows. She brushed the back of her nails over his torso, barely touching his skin. His body was so responsive, he groaned in pleasure at her caresses, his breathing quickening, and she realized with a start his manhood was beginning to stir, now casting a shadow in the moonlight.

  Is he awake? She leaned over him, her face above his. If he is faking, he is doing a better job at it than I did, she thought pensively.

  She pursed her lips and tenderly nibbled his earlobe. “Do you want to go further?” she whispered in his ear.

  He did not respond. Still sleeping, she thought. She gave him a peck on the lips and rested her head back on his chest, listening to his steady breathing. She allowed the rhythm to lull her back to sleep.

  They had plenty of time, she could let her man sleep.