The Sea of Lost Things

by Kelly St-Laurent

  I turn to look at him. “And did they?”

  He shakes his head. “But I found out that a plane came down in one of the farmer’s fields. Unfortunately, no one survived the crash. But it does mean we’re in the right area. It tells us that some of the planes that deviated off course came out this way.”

  I feel no comfort from his explanation. “You could have texted me. I actually thought you’d left me there.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “I don’t know, Jonah. It’s not the first time though, is it?”

  He lets out a long exhale. “You know I’m helping you, right? That all of this isn’t exactly a vacation for me?”

  “Then why offer it?” I practically yell the words. “I didn’t ask this of you. You came to me and said you wanted to help, and I foolishly believed you. But I guess what you really wanted was to charm me into sleeping with you.”

  “What!?” He briefly takes his eyes off the road and sets them heavily on me. “You think that’s why I offered?”

  When he looks back out the windshield, I can see the tension in his neck. “I don’t get you, Charlotte. Last night I thought...” He hesitates. “It seemed you wanted me to kiss you. Then today you hardly talk to me. Then I find you flirting with a Canadian. And now you’re telling me you think the only reason I’m here is because I want to sleep with you?”

  It’s an incredibly simplistic view of what’s happened. “Okay. One, I did want you to kiss me. Two, you made it clear that the kiss didn’t mean anything. And three, it’s none of your business who I do or do not flirt with, especially when you’ve dropped me off at some random restaurant and left me there because you ‘needed time.’”

  The rain hits the windshield like a deluge. “Who says the kiss meant nothing?”

  It’s not the part of my response I expected him to focus on. “You did. You said it was a kiss in the rain and no more than that.”

  I watch as my words hit him. “That’s what you thought I meant?” he says.

  “What other meaning could I take from that?”

  “Hang on. That’s why you were upset?” He runs a tired hand over his face. “Charlotte, I only said that because you seemed worried I was expecting more from you. You said you didn’t want to have sex last night, and I didn’t want you to think that was all I was after.”

  I can’t make sense of his explanation. “But today you said there’d been a misunderstanding.”

  “Yes,” he shouts, gripping the steering wheel. “You thinking that all I wanted was to sleep with you.”

  His words hang in the air between us as I slowly untangle the version of events that have been playing through my mind all day.

  “Why do you think I’m here?” he asks as he checks his blind spot. Changing lanes, he accelerates to get ahead of the truck. “Can’t you see how I feel about you? How crazy you make me?”

  Visibility reduces even more as we pass the truck, the tires splashing as much water up as there is coming down. It’s only when we’ve passed halfway that I see the car racing toward us. Even at the speed Jonah’s going at, I know we won’t pass the truck in time. I look at Jonah’s alarmed expression and know he’s thinking the same thing.

  I close my eyes, my scream caught in my throat. I’m six all over again. The car flipping. The sound of metal twisting. Glass shards piercing through my skin.

  Except we don’t flip, and there’s no crunching metal.

  No broken glass.

  Jonah manages to speed up just enough to get in front of the truck.

  “Fuck,” he breathes when we’re back on the right side of the road.

  My fear and adrenaline rush through me faster than my breath can catch up.

  “Charlotte?” Jonah’s concerned voice breaks through my shock.

  I try to deepen my shallow breathing, the inhales and exhales competing with one another. With my hands still braced on the dash, I feel my body start to tremble.

  “Hang on,” he says, taking the next exit onto a country lane. There’s an entrance to a farm and he pulls the car over. “That was my fault. I shouldn’t have tried to ... fuck, I’m so sorry.”

  I take my hands from the dash and stare at them.

  “Charlotte.” He reaches for me, cupping both sides of my face, making me look at him. “We’re okay.”

  I nod, the realization only starting to sink in.

  “I’m so sorry.” His fingers caress my cheek, the touch soothing to my frayed nerves. “Are you alright?”

  I’m not sure if it’s the surge of adrenaline, or the immense relief at being alive, but I lean forward and kiss him.

  Any reluctance on his part is short-lived. He opens his mouth to me, his urgency meeting my own. Our hands grab at whatever they can get — face, neck, back, arms, as the tension that’s been between us all day burns into something else entirely.

  The need within me overwhelms. “Take me somewhere,” I urge against his lips.

  He leans back, his breathing labored, his eyes searching mine.

  “I want you to take me somewhere,” I repeat with conviction.

  He nods, understanding my meaning, and quickly takes the car out of park.

  15

  The second we walk into the room, Jonah’s lips are on mine. He pushes me firmly up against the closed door, his fingers gripping my hips. There’s a hunger in his touch that lingers as he lifts his hand to the nape of my neck, tugging my hair, stoking the fire inside me.

  We hurry over to the bed, falling heavily upon it. He presses his weight into me, running his tongue up my throat. “I want you more than anything,” he says, his voice gruff.

  I can barely speak, my need of him consuming all thought. I tilt my hips against his in invitation.

  “Are you sure?” he asks me.

  “I’m sure,” I say as I push him onto his back, straddling him. His surprise is quickly supplanted by a low groan as I rock my pelvis into his. And then, to make my certainty clear, I lift my shirt over my head and throw it to the ground.

  His eyes go to my breasts as I unclasp my bra. I toss it onto the floor, and then I notice his attention has gone lower, his focus on my abdomen. A pang of self-consciousness hits me. I don’t need to follow his gaze to know what he’s looking at. The five-inch scar running diagonally from my belly button to my lower rib is angry and jagged even after all these years.

  “It’s from the accident,” I tell him. “When I was a kid.”

  Jonah reaches up and touches it, his expression tender. It’s not the reaction I was expecting. Most guys seem to find the scar jarring. Joel was perhaps the worst. After first seeing it, he wouldn’t stop talking about the benefits of plastic surgery. In the year we were together, he never touched it once.

  I close my eyes and feel Jonah’s fingers trace the misshapen line. He grabs my hips and pulls me closer, gently pressing his lips against the scar.

  It’s a simple gesture that moves me profoundly.

  The tenderness of the moment evaporates when he brings my mouth to his, kissing me deeply. I grab at his shirt, practically tearing it off, my fingers raking across the hard lines of his chest.

  Jonah flips me over, pinning me beneath him, and dips his head to my breast, sucking delicately. The sense of it drives me wild. I arch my back, exhaling with delight as he trails a hand across my stomach, moving lower, unbuttoning my jeans.

  It seems like an eternity to get the restrictive clothing off. Desperate for his hands on me, I push the denim over my hips, my underwear going with it. Why the hell did I wear jeans today? With a tug, Jonah pulls them free and tosses them to the floor with my shirt.

  For a moment, he doesn’t move. He stands at the foot of the bed, watching me, his eyes scanning over my naked body. His gaze is so visceral I can almost feel it. My need of his touch becomes unbearable.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he says, crouching over me. He seems to sense my urgency, his knee pushing my legs apart as he slides his hand down. When he slips his fing
ers between my thighs the world around me dissolves. My words catch in my throat, emerging as sighs. Desperate, ravenous sighs.

  “I want to feel you,” I say breathlessly, reaching for his waistband.

  He quickly shifts position, allowing me access. I undo his jeans and slide my hand inside, wrapping my fingers around the length of him. He groans in response, and I grip him firmer, stroking him.

  “Fuck,” he says, his voice hitched. When he looks at me his gaze is burning.

  Now.

  It has to be now.

  “Please,” I beg, all other words failing me.

  He steps away from the bed, going to his bag and returning with a condom. I watch as he puts it on, my eyes traveling over him. His body is beautiful, but it’s his expression that has me under his spell. The way he looks at me as though I’m the only thing he can see.

  Moving over me, he kisses me slowly and brushes his hand between my legs, finding me more than ready. “I need you like nothing else,” he murmurs in my ear, and with one swift movement pushes himself inside me.

  I exhale at the magnitude of him.

  We begin slow, reveling in the sense of one another, our pace gradually building. He moves within me with a passion I’ve never known, his hands worshiping my curves, his tongue tasting every inch of me. He thrusts even harder, hitting a spot with such vigor that I feel the effect of it reverberate throughout my entire being.

  I lose myself in it. Willfully.

  Wanting him deeper, I get on top of him, guiding him back inside me. Rocking my hips with his, the intensity of our connection rushes through me like lightning. Jonah sighs in pleasure and I lean back a little more, rocking faster.

  “Oh fuck,” he breathes.

  It only entices me further. I squeeze his hips between my thighs, giving myself the grip I need to bring him deeper.

  He groans again. “You’re going to make me come.”

  “Good,” I say, panting.

  “No.” He grabs my waist and flips me over, driving into me. “You first.”

  He places his fingers on the back of my knee, lifting my leg as his other hand drags me closer. When he hits a certain angle, I cry out in rapture, and he stays the course. The force of it vibrates across my skin, and I tilt my head back on the pillow, gasping.

  He moves even faster, and my moans become breathless. The sensation only builds, and then, finally, opens up, washing over me like a wave crashing. Basking in the pleasure of it, I dig my fingers into his bicep as Jonah thrusts one last time, and with a strangled sigh comes to lie on top of me.

  We lay still, his heart beating with my own, our labored breathing the only sound around us. Jonah lifts his head and kisses me softly before laying back down. We stay that way as we wait for our breathing to return to normal.

  A light breeze comes in through the open window. I can hear horses outside, the tranquility of it bringing a smile to my lips. I can’t remember when I last felt this way.

  Wanted.

  Desired.

  It’s like coming up for air.

  * * *

  The room is dark when Jonah stirs, lifting his weight off of me. “Are you hungry?” he asks, sitting up languidly.

  “Oh god, yes,” I say with a laugh.

  He kisses my palm and moves off the bed, flicking on the bedside lamp before he heads into the bathroom. Drawing the sheet over my lower half, I pull myself up to sit, enjoying the fresh night air as it blows across my skin.

  It’s a charming room. Soft yellow walls with a high, exposed beam ceiling. We came to the first hotel we could find. By luck, it turned out to be in a country manor.

  “I’m going downstairs to get some food,” Jonah says, reappearing in the bathroom doorway. His eyes trail over me. “When I come back, I expect you to still be in that bed, naked.”

  I lay back down with a contented sigh. “I think I can manage that.”

  “Fuck,” he says, his gaze still on me as he gets dressed. “You don’t make it easy to leave.” He pulls on a pair of pants and a t-shirt, covering up that sculpted physique.

  If my hunger wasn’t on the verge of ravenous, I’d demand he undress and get back in bed with me. As it is, however, I don’t think I could muster another minute of energy without food.

  “Bring me something sweet, please.”

  He gives me a curious look. “Are you saying I’m not sweet enough for you?”

  “I’m saying if you want to even entertain the thought of having sex again, you’ll bring me sugar. Preferably something with chocolate.” I give him my most alluring smile.

  He laughs and shakes his head. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Jonah sits opposite me on the bed, his sandwich in hand and an amused expression on his face.

  “What?” I ask, taking another bite of the chocolate cake.

  “Would it be weird if I tell you I’m even more attracted to you knowing this about you?”

  I wipe my mouth with the napkin and shrug. “I like sugar after sex.”

  “I can see that, but I was referring to the fact that you went for the cake before the sandwich.”

  I glance at the untouched baguette. “One of the pleasures of adulthood is being able to eat dessert before dinner.”

  “That is one of the pleasures,” he says suggestively.

  I pick up the fork and take another bite of cake, sighing in exaggeration.

  “That good, huh?” He moves closer. “Feel like sharing?”

  I offer him the plate, but he shakes his head, leaning forward and kissing me.

  “Hmmm.” He moves back. “That is good.”

  A thought crosses my mind, my laughter following.

  “What?” he asks, confused.

  “If you’d told me this morning that we’d end up here by the end of day, I don’t think I would have believed it.”

  He laughs in agreement. “You were all kinds of pissed at me.”

  “Well, perhaps telling a woman that a kiss didn’t mean anything isn’t the best approach.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” He gives me a knowing look. “And I appreciate it’s hard to believe this considering what we just did, but I didn’t offer to help you because I wanted to sleep with you.”

  “So you didn’t want to sleep with me?”

  “Oh no. I’ve wanted to sleep with you since the second I laid eyes on you.” He grins unabashedly. “But it wasn’t my motive.”

  “What was your motive, then?”

  “My reasons were entirely selfish.” He takes the plate out of my hand and puts it on the bedside table. “I wanted to be around you every second I could get.”

  “Is that so?”

  He murmurs in reply and kisses me.

  “Even the seconds you made me so mad that I didn’t speak to you for most of the day?”

  “You mean when you misconstrued everything I said?” He arches an eyebrow.

  I choose to ignore that. “And then you left me alone at the restaurant.”

  “Where I found you drinking wine with a Canadian.”

  “David,” I say with an exaggerated sigh. “My hero.”

  “And yet” —he presses me back onto the bed, his hand moving slowly down my arm— “it wasn’t his name you were calling out just before.” With his eyes on me, he reaches between my thighs.

  I groan softly, reveling in the sensation. When his tongue follows his fingers, I open myself to him, exulting in the need he brings from me.

  It’s not long before his name is the only thing on my lips.

  16

  I sleep so soundly, that when I wake, it’s sudden, with confusion, and because of a rooster. Its crow jolts me from a dreamless state. I open my eyes and need a moment to remember where I am.

  The walls are bathed in the soft glow of sunrise, and with a yawn, I turn over, stretching out my hand, expecting to feel Jonah. Instead, I find his side of the bed empty. I glance toward the bathroom, but the door is open and the lights are off.
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  He’s not here.

  Sitting up, I check my phone. It’s only just after six o’clock. Where could he be at this hour?

  I get out of the bed and put on underwear and a tank top. Jonah’s wallet is on the table where he left it, along with his car keys. I look out the window and see the horses grazing in the paddock below. There’s a mist over everything, making it all look like something from a dream.

  There’s no sign of Jonah though.

  I wonder if I should try to call him, but then I see his phone is still plugged in. What the hell? I grab my phone and return to the bed, mindlessly scrolling through my newsfeed, trying to distract myself. Five minutes go by, then ten, then twenty.

  I try not to dwell on the negative thoughts my mind is quick to conjure. Clinging to reason, I assume he’ll return at some point. His things are here, after all.

  Still, the whole situation leaves me with an uneasy feeling. What makes a man get up and leave so early? And without his phone or wallet?

  The answer arrives a few minutes later when Jonah walks through the door, his breathing labored. He’s clearly been for a run, his upper body lined with a sheen of sweat. With his return, I expect my uneasiness to leave, but it doesn’t. Instead, the feeling lingers.

  “I was wondering where you were,” I say.

  He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t reply. There’s something off in his energy.

  Something really, really off.

  He goes straight to the bathroom, keeping the door slightly ajar. I hear running water and see his silhouette step into the shower.

  I can’t make sense of it. It’s such an about face from where we were only hours ago. My stomach sinks as an idea comes to me.

  Is this regret?

  As much as I want to tell myself I’m overthinking it, the fact that he can’t even look me in the eye doesn’t help disprove the unnerving thought.

  I wait, perched at the edge of the bed, trying not to let my mind take me down a rabbit hole. The longer he’s in there, though, the worse my anxieties get. At some point, I can’t take it another second. I walk over to the bathroom and decide to confront him.