“I love the smell of the sea,” Dana said, slowly, “and the warm balmy summer evenings.”
“Mmmmmmm,” Ross murmured, “It’s definitely balmy in here. A little beyond balmy—it’s downright steamy. Glenn’d say that it smells like a bloody fish market, but I think it smells like contentment, like comfort.”
Dana rolled over and laid the length of her naked skin against Ross’s and breathed in the joy of having him beside her. “A gentle female rain after a long dry spell,” she whispered. “Ahhhhh!”
Suddenly the tent was yanked, battered and pulled down over the rocks and into the icy water. It collapsed around them. Ross thrashed and clawed at the fabric beside her. Wet tent closed over her face. Dana scrambled for the zipper, found it, fought with it, but it stuck in her hand. She yanked and yanked, lungs burning, but it wouldn’t budge.