Chapter 2: The Waterfall Incident
The next day, Marie found herself by the hotel pool, the equatorial sun a heavy, golden weight on her closed eyelids. The start of their honeymoon was, on paper, perfect. That very morning, her husband had woken her in the most appropriate way. He had made love to her, his movements familiar and tender, taking her first in the missionary position, his face hovering over hers, whispering sweet, ordinary things. Then, turning her over, from behind, his hands gripping her hips with a possessiveness that usually thrilled her.
She had come, a shuddering release that felt more physical than emotional. And then, immediately, she felt guilty. Because while they were making love, while Luc moved inside her with steady, devoted rhythm, she couldn’t help but imagine Noah in her husband’s place. The fantasy was shockingly vivid: different hands, darker, more demanding; a different weight, a different scent. In fact, it was the thought of the young Black man, of his quiet, assessing gaze and that low voice, that had tipped her over the edge into orgasm. The betrayal was slick and hot between her legs, a secret stain on the pristine sheets.
Now, lying on a sun lounger, she was having an aperitif, the tang of a Ti’ Punch not quite cutting through the taste of her own deceit. Luc lay next to her on another lounger, snoring softly, a magazine tented on his chest. The pool water shimmered, a turquoise jewel set in black lava rock.
She quickly noticed Noah.
His stature and muscular build were impossible to miss, especially since he was only wearing swim trunks. They were simple, dark blue, hanging low on his hips. Water glistened on the sculpted planes of his chest and shoulders, tracing the deep grooves of his abdomen. He moved through the pool area not like staff, but like a visiting dignitary, at ease in his own skin. He mingled with the hotel guests, always with a kind word, a flash of white teeth, a hand on a shoulder. His laughter, when it came, was a rich, warm sound that seemed to vibrate in the humid air.
Marie pretended to read her book, but her eyes tracked him over the top of the pages. Her heart began a slow, heavy thump against her ribs.
Eventually, his circuit brought him to them. He stood over their loungers, blocking the sun, a silhouette of solid muscle. “Madame. Monsieur. You are enjoying the sun?”
Luc stirred, blinking awake. “Noah! Yes, yes. It’s magnificent.”
“Did you sleep well?” Noah asked, his eyes shifting from Luc to Marie. They held hers, just as they had the day before. A direct hit.
Luc, ever genial, chimed in before she could form a word. “Like the dead. Well, at first.” He chuckled, nudging Marie’s foot playfully with his own. “Especially in the morning. Right, chérie?”
Marie felt a wave of heat that had nothing to do with the sun flood her face and chest. She was certain she was glowing crimson. She wanted the lounger to swallow her whole. Her husband had just alluded to their sex life, to the very act she had poisoned with her fantasy.
Noah’s expression didn’t flicker. He made no comment, no sly smile. His gaze remained steady on Marie, as if Luc’s words were mere background noise. “Good,” he said, the word deliberate. “As I said yesterday, I am available for anything you want. Anything at all. Do not hesitate.”
Marie interpreted this statement as yet another advance from Noah, especially since he was staring at her as he said it. Anything you want. The words seemed to pulse in the space between them, charged with a thousand unspoken possibilities. He wasn’t just talking about tours or dinner reservations. He was offering a door, and he was waiting to see if her hand would touch the knob.
“We might take you up on a hike later,” Luc said, completely missing the subtext. “Maybe something less eventful than yesterday, eh?” He rubbed his ankle, which was lightly wrapped.
“Of course,” Noah said, finally breaking eye contact with Marie to smile at Luc. “I know all the best paths. Some are very… private.” His glance flicked back to her for a fraction of a second. Then he gave a slight, courteous nod. “Enjoy your afternoon.”
He walked away, his bare feet making soft sounds on the wet stone. Marie couldn’t help but watch him go. The powerful taper of his back, the way his shoulders rolled with each step, the definition of his calves. He moved with a latent, animal grace that was both mesmerizing and deeply unsettling. She watched until he disappeared into the shade of the bar, the ghost of his offer hanging in the air, thicker than the humidity.
She took a long, shaky sip of her drink, the rum burning a path down her throat. Luc had already closed his eyes again, a smile on his lips. The perfect, trusting husband. And she, lying beside him, felt a crack splintering through the foundation of her perfect life, silent and deep, hidden just beneath the sun-drenched surface.