Stranded with the Navy SEAL

by Susan Cliff

  He tucked his knife into his belt and picked up the nylon bag. After a few deep breaths, he seemed to collect himself. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m on active duty. We aren’t two survivors who just happened to get stranded together. I’m a SEAL, and you’re a civilian. You were kidnapped because you were mistaken for my client. I have to treat you the same way I’d have treated Maya O’Brien.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “It’s reality. I take my professional responsibilities very seriously.”

  “But you’re not my bodyguard! I didn’t hire you.”

  “I have ethical obligations, regardless. I took an oath to assist my country and its citizens in the event of an international emergency or terrorist attack. There’s a strict code of conduct on the clock and off. I can’t touch you.”

  “You already have,” she said, remembering the kiss on the beach. He’d called a halt to that encounter, but he’d also started it.

  He dragged a hand down his jaw, unable to dispute her.

  “Look, it’s cool. I get what you’re saying. You don’t want to take advantage of the situation, because we’re not partners. We’re not equals. You’re a big-shot SEAL, and I’m a helpless baby bunny.”

  “That’s not at all what I said.”

  She held her palm up to halt any further explanation. “I appreciate you being on the level. Now I know where we’re at.”

  “You’re twisting my words around.”

  “And you accused me of screaming for attention.”

  Instead of getting more defensive, he gave in, conceding her point. “That was out of line. I’m sorry.”

  She accepted his apology with a stiff nod. He tossed his wet shirt over his shoulder and picked up the nylon bag. Apparently the conversation was over. They walked away from the waterfall in silence. Now she understood why he’d been keeping his distance, but she didn’t feel any better. She didn’t want him any less. They were stuck here in this wild place, and they couldn’t even do what felt natural.

  When they got back to the beach with the storage chest, he handed her the bag of taro and chestnuts. The cushions were still a little damp, but the towels and clothing were dry. He carried most of their new gear through the cave and back to the shelter. Then he picked up his spear and headed to the tide pools.

  While he was gone, she roasted the chestnuts and boiled the taro root. The turtle shell worked like a charm. He returned from the hunt empty-handed, which didn’t surprise her. If he thought they were going to feast on crab and lobster every night, he was going to have to manage his expectations better.

  After dinner, she ducked behind a tree to change her clothes. The T-shirt was soft and cozy. It covered her from neck to midthigh. The bikini bottoms weren’t quite the right size, so she adjusted the string at each hip.

  They sat in front of the fire for at least an hour. She watched the flames flicker. He worked on another spear, his head bent low. Then it was time to turn in. He placed the deck cushions on top of the bamboo pallet. The life jackets doubled as pillows. She crawled in next to him with a towel for a blanket.

  The shelter was warmer and more comfortable, but sleep was as elusive as ever. She’d overreacted earlier. She’d asked him to be honest with her, and he had been. He’d said he was aching for a taste of her.

  How was she supposed to ignore the heat between them, knowing that? They shared a sleeping pallet. She couldn’t avoid his company, or turn off her desire. She also couldn’t deny her feelings for him. They were depending on each other to survive. He’d been caring and supportive. She’d opened up to him about her grandfather. Their connection went deeper than physical attraction, and that made him even harder to resist.

  He shifted beside her, equally restless. “I do think of you as a partner,” he said. “You’re not helpless. I value your contributions.”

  “I know. I was just mad.”

  They were both silent for another moment.

  “I didn’t scream on purpose,” she said.

  “I know. I was just...stupid.”

  She smiled at this apt descriptor.

  “I meant what I said about treating you with respect and acting like a professional. But it’s more than that. I feel like I let you down.”

  “How?”

  “I let you get kidnapped.”

  “You’re being too hard on yourself,” she said, speaking from experience. She’d blamed herself for her grandfather’s death for fifteen years. It was the nature of witnessing an accident you couldn’t stop.

  “It’s my job to protect you.”

  She sighed, but didn’t argue.

  “Also, I don’t have any condoms.”

  This practical concern gave her pause. She hadn’t even thought about it at the waterfall, and she’d always insisted on safe sex.

  “You’re not...on anything?”

  “No.”

  He let out a pent-up breath. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “You went to the bar without any condoms?”

  “I wasn’t planning to meet anyone. Then I saw you.”

  “What were you going to do when we got back to your cabin?”

  “I was praying I had one in my luggage. I couldn’t remember what I’d packed.”

  She laughed, shaking her head. “I thought you’d be prepared.”

  “In my defense, it was supposed to be a work trip.”

  They smiled at each other in the dark. Her heart twisted inside her chest. She reached out to hold his hand. He took it, twining his fingers with hers. They couldn’t act on their desires, but they didn’t have to be at odds. They could still be friends, and partners.

  “You didn’t let me down,” she said. “You’re the reason we’re alive right now.”

  “You’re the reason we’re not starving.”

  “Truce?”

  “Truce.”

  Chapter 11

  He slept later than usual and woke up groggy.

  For the first time in a week, or however long they’d been stuck together, he wasn’t eager to rise and shine. The shelter was downright cozy with the new cushions. Cady was cuddled next to him, her hair a fluffy cloud of dark curls. He was warm, but he wasn’t comfortable. His knee ached from overuse, and he had a raging hard-on.

  A vivid mental picture of her naked body sprang into his mind. He’d seen everything. Every inch of her, sleek and supple and dripping wet. Her perfect tits, topped with ripe brown nipples. Her flat belly and gently curved hips. The sweet little triangle between her thighs. He hadn’t lied when he said he was dying for a taste of her. Maybe he was just hungry, in general, but she looked delicious.

  Smothering a groan, he got up and climbed out of the shelter. He studied his ravaged hands in the harsh daylight. Even if he had the privacy to take care of his own needs, there would be no physical release for him until his palms healed. These blistered, cut-up mitts would feel like sandpaper.

  She emerged from the shelter, stretching her arms over her head. She was wearing that soft T-shirt, with the new bikini bottoms. Both garments flattered her curves. She joined him by the smoldering ashes, yawning. When she walked away, his eyes followed her ass. She bent over the water bucket to fill a coconut shell cup.

  He returned his attention to the fire, poking it with a stick. He didn’t think she was trying to tease him. It was just that they’d spent every moment together since the kidnapping. They’d become comfortable with each other. She wasn’t self-conscious about her body, and she often seemed unaware of his gaze.

  The chemistry was still there, of course. She’d proved that yesterday.

  He hadn’t expected her to issue such a blatant invitation. He’d thought sex was off the table for the duration of this adventure. When she’d given him that come-hither look, her
breasts half-exposed, he’d almost swallowed his tongue.

  It had been so hard to turn his back. So hard.

  They had bananas for breakfast, as usual. He only ate two. He didn’t want bananas. He wanted something else, and he wasn’t going to get it.

  “What’s on the schedule for today?” she asked.

  His mind swam with pornographic images. He blinked them away. “I want to finish the spear I started last night, and try out that snorkel. We should build up this triangle. I also need to scout a location for a signal fire.”

  “Where would you make it?”

  He glanced around, considering. “A high point is ideal, but it also has to be accessible. If it takes too long to get there, I can’t light it in time to signal anyone.”

  “Maybe we should conserve energy.”

  It wasn’t a bad suggestion, considering how little protein they’d had. “We need to eat before we do anything else.”

  “How are your hands?”

  He made a noncommittal sound. They were worse, not better, but the spear he was working on required dexterity. The bandages got in the way, and kept his hands moist. He preferred going without.

  She wandered off to gather wood and look for washed-up treasures on the beach while he finished his spear point. She added some rocks to her SOS triangle. He kept his head down, determined not to stare at her.

  “Can I borrow your knife?” she asked.

  “For what?”

  “I want to make a top out of this.” She held up a narrow strip of torn canvas from the umbrella.

  Instead of giving her his knife, he cut two holes in the material, where she wanted them. Then he sharpened two sticks and attached them to his spear point, forming a trident. This type of spear was a lighter, more agile tool. He stabbed it into the sand a few times to test its strength. When he was confident in its durability, he looked for Cady again. She was wearing her bikini briefs, with the canvas band across her breasts. She’d used her dress strap to secure it at the middle of her back. Her hair was neatly braided, tied with vine cordage.

  He studied her with guarded eyes. She was adapting to their environment, even embracing it. She was a fighter, not a bystander. He admired that. He’d meant what he said about valuing her contributions. Having an equal partner took some of the pressure off, but it didn’t reduce the sexual tension. He couldn’t unsee her wet, naked body.

  “I’m going to the tide pools,” he said.

  “Can I come with you?”

  He shrugged, even though he’d rather be alone. Before they left, she grabbed the nylon bag and put a few things inside it. He brought the snorkel and both spears. If he didn’t catch anything, he’d have to adjust his strategy. Maybe he’d make some basket traps. That meant putting off his other projects, because providing food was the top priority.

  He was hungry. Always hungry. The gnawing emptiness had become his constant companion, along with unfulfilled desire.

  As soon as they reached the tide pools, he stripped down to his boxers. They rode low on his hips. He’d probably dropped a full pants size. He was leaner than he’d been in years. Life on this island had robbed him of everything but muscle and bone.

  Her hands met his shoulders, spreading cream on his skin. “You need sunscreen. You’re already burnt.”

  Although her touch discomfited him, he allowed it. When she came around the front to put sunscreen on his face, he clenched his jaw in irritation. It was awkward as hell, being treated like a little boy while fighting a very adult male reaction. He jerked away before she was finished and picked up his trident.

  He was being rude, but he needed space. He strode toward the water, taking ragged breaths. He couldn’t stop fantasizing about those soft hands on his erection, stroking up and down. She was too familiar with him, too physical. Although he understood the basic desire for human contact, he felt like a pressure keg. If she wanted to touch someone, she was going to have to touch herself.

  This idea gave him pause. He glanced over his shoulder, his blood thickening. She was sitting in the shade underneath a palm tree. Maybe she was going to slip her hand between her thighs right now, while he was busy.

  Damn. He’d give his left nut to see that.

  But he wasn’t going to see it. He was going to drive himself crazy thinking about it. Frustration coursed through him in waves. Making a snarling sound, he turned around and walked toward her.

  She scrambled to her feet. “Do you need me?”

  He nodded, gesturing for her to join him. “Bring the other spear. I might want it, and I can’t hold them both.”

  If he wasn’t getting off, she wasn’t either. End of story.

  She grabbed the spear and hustled to catch up with him. She was so eager to help that he felt petty for making her tag along. He couldn’t prevent her from pleasuring herself. He shouldn’t even want to. If she took care of her own needs, she might stop looking at him with those sultry eyes.

  They explored the tide pools together, side by side. She chose her footing over the sharp rocks carefully. The isolated puddles near the shore offered nothing of interest.

  “Why are the pools empty?” she asked.

  “Birds got here first.”

  “So we need to come at dawn?”

  “I don’t know. There might be other sea creatures at night. Rays, octopus. Anything that can move in shallow water.”

  “I like octopus.”

  “Yeah? I’ve never had it.”

  “It’s good. Let’s get one.”

  He grunted his agreement, but they didn’t find an octopus lurking in the shallows. They waded into knee-deep water, where it was more difficult to use a spear with accuracy. There were plenty of tropical fish, bright-colored and elusive.

  “Look,” she said, pointing out an orange one. “It’s Nemo.”

  “Can we eat it?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never seen clown fish on a menu.”

  When he aimed his spear, the fish flitted away. He ventured farther out, donning the snorkel and mask. Cady swam alongside him, making ineffectual stabs at the reef. Her strategy stirred debris into the water, reducing visibility.

  He didn’t know if failing with her was better or worse than failing alone. He probably shouldn’t have brought her along. She had no idea what she was doing, and he didn’t have the patience to teach her.

  She grabbed his arm, excited. “There’s a giant clam.”

  “Where?” he said around his mouthpiece.

  “That blue ruffled thing.”

  He adjusted his snorkel and peered down at the ocean floor. There was a clam about the size of a basketball. It looked like a pretty rock, with bright blue accents. He spat out the mouthpiece and shoved the mask up his forehead. “Should I get it?”

  “How?”

  “I’ll carry it in.”

  “It’s too big.”

  He scoffed at this and handed her his trident. “Watch the master.”

  The master dove underwater and attempted to lift the clam. It was about ten feet below the surface, nestled in the reef. He couldn’t get a good grip on it. He ran out of breath and came up empty-handed.

  “Give me the spear,” he panted.

  She passed him the one she’d been using, the original. He returned to pry the clam loose. It wasn’t easy. After about a dozen turns from the sea floor to the surface, the stubborn shell broke free. He handed her the spear and dove under to claim his treasure.

  Unfortunately, the clam was heavier than it looked. He tried rolling it along the ocean floor, but his progress was slow. The strain wore him down. He started getting light-headed, so he floated upward for more air.

  Just before he surfaced, he spotted some dark shapes in the distance. He sucked in a breath and ducked under for a second look. />
  Sharks.

  There were three or four of them, not more than twenty feet away. They were blacktip reef sharks, probably not aggressive, and too small to be deadly. Even so, he needed to get Cady out of the water now. If she started screaming and thrashing around, they might come over to investigate.

  He ripped off the mask and snorkel. “You were right. It’s too heavy.”

  “I’ll help you.”

  “Nah. I’m tired.”

  She frowned at this uncharacteristic statement. “Really?”

  “It’s not going anywhere,” he said, urging her along. “We’ll get it later.”

  She swam with him toward the shallow water and waded to the shore. He kept her moving, his hand on her elbow. Maybe his grip was too tight, because she pulled her arm free as soon as they reached the sand.

  “What’s your problem?”

  He glanced across the reef, reluctant to give a reason for rushing her.

  “You saw a shark, didn’t you?”

  “It was a small one.”

  “A small one,” she said in a shrill voice, scanning the water. “Are you kidding me?”

  “No.”

  “You said you were tired.”

  “I was getting there.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

  “I thought you might...get loud.”

  “Get loud?”

  “You scream a lot.”

  Her eyes narrowed at the charge. He thought she was going to argue, but she shoved his spear at him and stormed away. He watched her stomp across the beach, leaving footprints on the sand. Water dripped from her hair onto her bare shoulders. He admired the sway of her hips and her curvy backside.

  He dragged a hand down his face, wishing she’d stayed to yell at him. Maybe if she slapped him across the face, he could retaliate by crushing his mouth over hers. Then they’d make out in the surf and roll around naked.

  That was a nice fantasy. In reality, he was standing on the beach alone. He couldn’t touch her. He couldn’t even touch himself. This had to be an all-time low. He shook his head, laughing. It was either laugh or cry.