She shrugs. “Come on. I don’t want to be caught snooping in his room.”
I close the lid of the laptop and teeter my way out of the room, but I pause at the threshold of his door. Part of my brain is telling me that I’m about to do something stupid. Well, I tell that part of my brain, it won't be the first stupid thing I've done tonight.
“You coming, Flick?”
I glance back to the sofa, my drunken gaze zeroed in on the laptop. “I’ll meet you in West’s room in a minute,” I tell her, grabbing her signed baseball cap as I totter back inside. “I just need to do something first.”
“IS THIS PRIVATE land?” Delphine asks, as we stand on the dock, looking out across the North Sea.
It’s eleven o’clock at night, but as soon as we headed back from the city to our hometown, we came straight here. This place was a favourite haunt in my childhood.
I pass her the bottle of red wine. “West and I used to come here all the time when we were young. Old Marsden gave us permission to do so. He knew my grandpa well and trusted us not to run amuck.”
“But it is private land?”
“Yes.” Staring into the void of darkness surrounding us, the only sounds I hear are the creaking of Marsden’s boat home that is anchored close by, the crickets croaking, and the strong wind that has picked up suddenly. “It’s a shame West was unable to escape his duties at Box Fest. He most likely would have recanted some embarrassing stories that took place here.” I grin at her. “That I may or may not have been involved in.”
She offers me the bottle. “But Marsden doesn’t mind you coming here now? Even after five years?”
“I should think so,” I say, slightly unsure. I take a sip of wine. “Do you remember me mentioning Vanessa Marsden and her bloodthirsty pack of gossips?”
Delphine nods slowly. She’s only been living in my childhood nosey seafront neighbourhood since I moved back three months ago. I know this place like the back of my hand, and my reputation is still the subject of gossip. It seems, just because I escaped five years ago, doesn’t mean I get a do-over to erase the past.
“She’s Marsden’s younger wife. I don’t understand why he tied himself to a woman like her. He’s quite pleasant, but she’s the opposite of pleasant. She’s the kind of person who expects the world to provide.” I glance across the dark sea. “But it doesn’t work that way. You need to go out there and earn it for yourself.”
Breathing in the familiar scent of the surroundings, this place, the water, takes me keenly back. It really doesn’t look much different from the days West and I would spend time here, escaping the trials and tribulations of teenage hood. But the reality is, everything changes. Sometimes it is so slow, we barely notice. Then other times, it is abrupt, and life is never the same again.
“Are you going to accept Daniel’s offer for a date next weekend? He seems nice.”
“No. It wouldn’t be fair on him.”
“Why? You’re pretty, young and single.”
I sigh. “I can’t help it. I’ve really tried. But all I can think about is doing Lenic Reevus in the most filthiest imaginable ways possible.”
“You still want to sleep with him?”
“Now it’s confirmed he’s an utter bastard — yes. Very much so. I still hate him but angry sex is the ultimate pleasure.” I set the bottle of wine down on the wooden dock.
“Can’t argue with you there,” Delphine laughs.
We both groan in displeasure when a light patter of rain starts to fall.
British summers.
I roll my thumb across my silver-sterling charm bracelet and sigh heavily. Lenic was supposed to be a distraction tonight. Feeling despondent, the urge to do something precipitous takes over again.
“I think we should end the night skinny dipping,” I suggest, teetering to a standing position, using my friend’s shoulder to balance myself.
“You are out of your mind.”
I breathe the warm salt-tinged air into my lungs, and slip out of my dress, dragging my underwear with it. “No, I am out of my clothes.” I unclasp my bra and let it fall from my fingers. The wind rises, grabbing my long hair and whipping it across my face.
“Oh my god, you’re naked. Anyone could be watching.”
“Nobody’s here. The place is deserted, like it always was. I went skinny dipping here with West once. It was one of the best times I ever had when I was a teen.” It helped a lot back then to forget it all, and I hope it will help me in the present.
I miss you, Grandpa. I miss the laughter, the warmth, the good days…
“I miss you,” I whisper into the night, turning to face the water.
You know that feeling you get, the night before something big is about to happen? It's the moment before your first kiss. The moment before the roller coaster dives down. I’m having that feeling right now. I can feel it in the tips of my toes.
“Tempest!” I yell at the top of my lungs. “You can hook, line, and fuck me any day.” And then I dive right in. I hear Delphine gasp as I jump overboard and sink under the depths of the dark blue sea. I swim underwater, farther out, and a moment later I break the surface and take a lungful of air.
“What the hell is this?” a rumbling, angry voice roars from behind somewhere. The man’s voice almost sounds like thunder booming as lightning cracks open the dark sky in the distance.
A storm is coming.
“Who the hell’re you two?” the thunderous voice continues. I twist around in the water, startled.
Oh God…
It’s Lenic Reevus.
“You?” Lenic spits. “What the hell’re you doing here?”
"It's none of your business," I shout back. Why is he here?
"The hell it is.”
“I think the question should be: what are you doing here?” I spit back.
“I live here,” he grits out.
“No one lives here. This is Old Marsden’s broken, rundown boat home. The only thing that would dare to live on that heap of junk is a dirty rat. OK, now it’s starting to make sense that you could live on it.” He starts to shout something in return but I cut in. “Have you been watching me all this time? Oh my god. Did you follow me—?”
I stop engaging him in conversation, frozen like ice in the water, as he marches angrily along the wooden dock that leads to the boat home.
Towards me.
“It was Marsden’s property until I bought that ‘heap of junk’ from him, fixed it up, and rented this part of the land out.” He stabs a finger at the boat home. “Now get out of the water. You’re too far out. It’s not safe.”
I have done some dumb shit over the years, but coming here, getting drunk, mouthing off, is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. Lenic is not a one-night-stand party boy. He is the straight arrow, the type to follow orders, ingrained into him through military regimes and training.
“I-I, uh, I can’t…” I feel the current getting stronger beneath me, and tread water faster to keep me afloat.
“I’ll jump in and get you myself,” he barks.
My pulse skitters. I am aware enough to see the black cloud following him; aware he is close to flipping. It’s probably what makes him the best fighter in the ring. That temper. That fire. I’m learning that about him; damn am I learning. It might scare the hell out of other women, but his temper is growing to be one of his sexiest qualities.
Suddenly, it starts to rain down in sheets. “Swim up to the dock. I’ll pull you up,” he shouts.
I wish I could get out of the water, but it is impossible.
I.
Am.
Naked.
“Get out of the water — now,” he snarls. His eyes are flashing hot with anger, but buried deep down in there, I think I see worry. I feel the quiet beginnings of my own worry building inside of me. The water seems to be getting higher. Or is it that I am sinking lower? “Swim up to the dock — come on, goddamn it!”
“Flick, please, listen to him,” Delphine urges.
I start to kick my legs to push my body upwards, but something, like a trail of weeds, has caught on my leg. Panic floods me. My arms rise above my head, flailing at the water uselessly in an attempt to swim. My head ducks under the current as I tread into deeper water, but quickly resurface, gasping for air.
Oh God.
I am drowning.
I hear Delphine screech at the top of her lungs for help and another form of panic spreads through me, choking on the water that keeps, keeps on entering my throat.
For a brief moment, I hear what sounds like a heavy drum pounding hard as Lenic charges across the dock — whipping off his T-shirt — faster than a speeding bullet. I hear a loud splash as he dives into the water without hesitation. The sight of him is somehow strangely a window to hope, before another gasp, and I am under again, falling deeper and deeper to the bottom of the sea.
The knowledge of dying is clear. But there is only one thought circling my mind as I begin to slip from consciousness.
Lenic Reevus jumped into the water.
And he’s coming for me.
3
“YOU WANT TO SIT ON MY FACE?”
LENIC
“YOU OK?” a deep, gravelly voice asks as I am laid down on something soft. I nod a little, then shake my head slightly, and then take a deep breath in through my nose. My eyes peel open and I gasp for air before coughing up water onto the sand beside me.
I gingerly turn my head around and find a pair of dark eyes staring down at me, only a few inches from my face. I feel a bounce in my chest, a quickening of the pulse. It is like landing on an alien planet you’ve only glimpsed through a telescope.
Wow, up close … his face is beautiful. “I want to sit on your face.”
“You want to sit on my face?”
Oh shit. Either he has the ability to read minds, or I just told him I wanted to sit on his face.
Let me swim back to sea and sink to the bottom…
FML.
I must be having heat stroke, I decide. Despite the bright moon in the dark summer sky, the intense heat of the day still lingers long after the sun set.
“I don’t think sitting on my face is appropriate right now.” His voice is gruff, a little surly.
“I-I didn’t say that … I-I want to sit … up—“
Now my voice decides to crack?
His rippling skin turns me into stone, and I’m unsure if it is because of my near-death experience, or because I am lying naked underneath him, or, more likely, because I am glancing at a solid wall of masculinity.
“You’re delirious,” he grunts, reaching to put a hand briefly on my forehead before withdrawing it, but not before I feel the effect of his touch, like a jolt of electricity running wild through my veins. “What the hell were you thinking?” I flinch at the sharp tone of his voice. “You could have died. Jesus Christ, what’s wrong with you? How can you think it’s a good idea to go swimming at night during a storm? Too much drinking and partying, huh? Think next time, alright.”
There is nowhere to hide the flames of mortification licking at my cheeks. This is humiliating. Flustered and disorientated, I am unsure of what to do in this situation. So, what do I word vomit? “Uh … totally.” That’s what I just said. ‘Uh … totally.’ Stunning, right? Highly impressive. Cool as hell.
Ideas of moving town, maybe even the country, skim through my mind. I hear Australia has nice beaches this time of year.
Unsure, I think I see a faint smile on his lips from my nervous ripple of talk. If he is smiling, it is short-lived. “Got a name?”
“Um…”
I’ve forgotten my name. I’ve forgotten my bloody name.
This really isn’t the way in which I wanted to get naked underneath my celebrity crush with. Being sophisticated, intelligent and charming were vital parts of my plan. Not this. Never this.
To his credit, he keeps his eyes trained on my face, where so many guys wouldn’t be respectable enough to look me in the eye in this demeaning moment. On one hand, it fires up the desire to kiss him for being an honourable gentleman, but on the other hand … why am I disappointed?
Am I really not his type?
I try to smile, but my mouth is bone-dry, my lips stuck together at the corners. I probably look like a mental patient. I wipe my mouth, trying to think of something to say, but my head is empty. Thankfully, he turns his head to the side, glancing away, and I hear him suck in a deep breath.
Delphine hurries over. “Thank God she’s OK. Thank you. Thank you for saving her.”
“Don’t you think bringing her clothes would be more appropriate than a bottle of wine?” Lenic berates gruffly. “Wine isn’t gonna cover up much.” My friend hides the bottle of wine behind her back, looking contrite.
“I-I owe you my life,” I choke out quietly. My mouth feels like sandpaper and my throat feels like I’ve swallowed ten razor blades.
“No you don’t,” he says. I feel my heart stop beating in my chest as he circles his thick muscled arms around my waist, and gathers me into his arms in one swift irresistible movement. “The swim was a good cool-down from tonight’s boxing match.” If he is trying to put me at ease, it’s working.
Butterflies erupt in my stomach as he carries me under his arms in a vice-like grip. Despite being naked, I strangely feel safe in the arms of this man, and my body slackens against his — all firm, solid, hard. The smell of him, the feeling of that wonderful body heat, that flesh I crave to touch, pressed right up against me is overwhelming. I honestly can’t breathe.
I think I was safer in the water.
He carries me inside his boat home, and when he lays me down on his bed, the fire within me grows to a fevered pitch, and before I realise it, he has me pinned under his grip.
He doesn’t move, towering over me. My toes curl, seeing something akin to lust in his eyes … a lust that mimics my own, driving me mad with my own desire. My entire body sways like it is still in the deathly grips of the menacing water. The air grows thick around us and it is hard to draw breath into my lungs. I am still drowning, I think, except the water has been replaced with Lenic’s heated breath.
And if drowning wasn’t bad enough, this is a thousand times worse. His touch is like a drug to me, and I am a girl who is denied its power. And to be this close to the one man I want to touch every inch of — and not be able to — is excruciating. Humans are social creatures. We thrive on shared contact. We survive on it.
I raise my hands and wrap them around the edges of his muscular shoulders, drinking him in like an alcoholic. I swallow, feeling his rough hands move slightly over my soft skin, raising goose bumps behind every touch, every caress. His lust-filled eyes gaze down at me, full of desire, full of want, and I picture his rock-hard cock slipping into my wet folds; disappearing into me, feeling my heat squeezing around him.
When I moan softly, Lenic moves the tiniest bit against the firmness of my breast, and I can sense the sudden alertness in a previously unrestrained body. His hot breath against my skin increases at a faster pace. I hold my own breath, waiting for him to what…? Is he going to lean down and kiss me?
He squeezes his eyes shut, as though he is at the very brink of self-control. I glide my hands down his thick solid biceps and lift my head up from the bed, intent on allowing his tongue to slip into my mouth as he fills me to the brim. I let out a loud groan of unquestionable pleasure and desire, “Oh Lenic…”
His eyes snap open. He leaps up from the bed. Then crosses his sizeable arms over his even more sizeable chest, whirling around.
This is torture.
Even more so when my eyes roam over his wide muscular back, over his Corps of Royal Marine insignia tattoo. I hear him taking a deep breath as he moves towards his closet, then clears his throat. “Here. Put these on.”
He throws down a brown T-shirt and a pair of white boxer briefs onto the bed before slipping into a black T-shirt. I wait for him to turn around, but he keeps his head down, scanning the floor at his fe
et.
I reach for the T-shirt and try to lighten the uncomfortable atmosphere with a little light flirtation. “Brown has the habit of washing out my dark hair and brown eyes. Do you have anything in blue? I’ve been told on many occasions that sky-blue highlights my dark features perfectly.”
“You for real?” he grunts.
“Am I that beautiful you think I’m a mirage?”
He releases an irritated breath. “Just put the damn clothes on.”
Thanking him, I slip into the old, well-worn Navy-issue T-shirt, my arms feeling heavy, like they weigh about a thousand pounds. I suck in a sharp breath as I tug into the briefs. Even when I tell him I’m decent, he keeps his back to me as if he is afraid to face me again.
I try to stand, but a thousand red-hot needles stab at my ankle. I yelp in pain, Lenic finally turning around. I look down and see I’ve drawn blood.
“Shit,” I mutter, falling back on the bed.
“You OK?” he asks for the second time this night.
I nod, which actually hurts to do. “I’m fine. It’s just my ankle … it’s bleeding a little.” I try to sound nonchalant, but by the expression on his face he isn’t fooled.
I twist my head towards the window when thunder roars and rain pelts hard against the windowpane. Lenic doesn’t flinch as he rounds the bed, squats down, and when I feel his hand on my ankle, all the fine hairs on the back of my neck rise.
“Will it be safe staying inside this boat during the storm?”
He looks at me. “You’re safe with me.” He keeps his eyes on mine for a moment before peering back down. “As for your leg, I think you’ll survive," he adds, his hand beneath my foot. He examines it closely, probing gently with his large hands. “Not a deep cut.”
He reaches underneath his bed and brings out a first aid kit, then sits down on the bed. “Thank you," I murmur, watching his fingers clean the cut. I grit my teeth against the pain, trying not to whimper, and distract myself with the scar on the back of his hand. I want to kiss it while he goes about playing Doctor Sexy.
The Tempest Page 3