Tempt (Take It Off)

by Hebert, Cambria

  “I don’t trust him,” Nash said.

  “Why?”

  “Just a feeling I get.”

  “But he’s helped us. He showed us food. He gave us that machete.”

  “I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

  “I’m tired,” I said, leaning my head against the tree. I didn’t really want to talk about Duke with Nash. I sort of felt like I was caught between them.

  He brushed a few damp strands of hair off my cheek. “Just sit here and cool off. Rest.”

  It didn’t take long for my eyes to grow heavy and begin to drift closed…

  I felt the blanket drift down over my chilled skin. It wasn’t warm like he was, but I knew that soon it would trap the heat the night air was leeching from my body and give it back to me. I sighed, settling in a little farther.

  My comfort was slightly interrupted when I realized I was still on the beach, still lying in the sand. I turned my head and glanced at the bonfire, which had grown cold. The glowing embers had long gone out.

  It was just me, the glittering stars overhead, and the sound of the waves crashing harmoniously against the shore.

  But something was missing.

  No.

  Someone was missing.

  Just as I thought to lift my head, to call out for him, I felt a gentle caress brush my ankle. A little of the ocean air drifted beneath the blanket as his hand traveled farther up, caressing my calf and making me smile. I lay still, not wanting him to stop, wondering where his curious hand would lead him.

  Farther up he traveled until his palm was brushing over the outside of my thigh, stroking the skin, coaxing my body to turn for him.

  It did. With a soft sigh I rolled onto my back, opening my eyes just enough so I could stare up at the stars.

  Starlight, star bright,

  First star I see tonight,

  I wish I may, I wish I might,

  Have this boy I want tonight.

  And oh how I wished for him.

  The universe heard my plea, and I watched as a shooting star dripped from the heavens, streaking the sky with a glimmering trail.

  His fingers kept exploring, slipping beneath my shorts, hovering over my bikini bottoms, and brushing against my core. My hips tilted upward automatically, inviting his touch.

  He was like a drug. An addiction. His fingers were my dealer and his lips were my poison. I lived for my next fix, the next time his knuckles would graze the softness of my inner thigh, the next time he would gently scrape his fingernails across my lower abdomen and then delve into my soft curls at the apex of my hips.

  I moaned softly when he dipped beneath my bottoms, his skin touching my skin. I was already wet for him, and I felt my moisture coat his fingers as he slipped along my entrance.

  He moved closer, his body settling between my spread legs and his free hand reaching up to cup my breast, to squeeze it lightly and roll the hardened nipple between his finger.

  “Nash,” I whispered, arching into him, practically begging for more.

  I had no idea that my body could ever feel this way. That I would ever need another person’s touch so much. That if I didn’t get it, I might slowly go insane. It was like he started a clock the first time he touched me, a ticking clock on a bomb that counted the minutes, the seconds until the time ran out and I exploded in a heap of desire.

  He stilled, his fingers pausing in their perusal, and I felt his stare through the dark. I started to sit up, but he pressed me back down, his fingers scissoring open, testing me, stretching me.

  My breathing turned ragged; my body hummed. Now. I wanted him now. I grabbed his wrist and pulled him up over me, blocking out the stars with his dark shape.

  He was completely shrouded in darkness. I couldn’t see his face at all.

  Something like hesitation creeped over me. My body tried to deny it, to push it away and hang on to its need.

  “Nash?” I whispered, staring above me.

  Slowly he shook his head…

  I jerked awake. Sweat slicked my skin and my heart pounded erratically. That was the most vivid dream I ever experienced. Not to mention the sexiest one.

  “Hey,” Nash said from right beside me. “You having another nightmare—about the crash?”

  “Did I fall asleep?” I asked, looking up at him.

  “You were tired,” he said gently, tracing a finger beneath my eyes where I was sure dark circles resided.

  “I never sleep in the middle of the day,” I said, frowning.

  And I never have sex dreams about strangers, either.

  “You’ve never been a victim of a plane crash, out in the heat all day, traipsing over an unknown island, and practically dehydrated, either.” Then he glanced at me. “Have you?”

  That elicited a giggle. “Are you kidding? This is like my hobby.”

  He snorted.

  I couldn’t help but notice the way we were sitting. Side by side, but I might as well have been in his lap. My leg was firmly pressed along his and my upper body was leaning into him, draped over his chest. His arm was around my waist, securing me close, and I knew that my head likely was resting on his shoulder.

  “You drool,” he said, offering me a grin.

  I smacked him. “I do not!”

  “Maybe you weren’t having a nightmare. Maybe you were dreaming about me.” He wagged his eyebrows.

  My stomach lurched.

  He frowned. “Hey, you feeling okay?” he asked, concern totally eclipsing his playful tone from just seconds ago.

  “I’m fine,” I said, sitting up, pushing away from him.

  “Here,” he said, uncapping a bottle of water and holding it out. I took it and drank a few gulps.

  The water was warm, but I didn’t care. It was wet.

  Wet. Oh God, between my legs was wet. That dream had really turned me on.

  Why would I dream that? What was wrong with my body? We were off on a hunt for who knows what, and I was falling asleep and having naughty dreams like we really were on vacation.

  “Ava,” Nash said. He took my hand and I glanced at him.

  Man, I loved his hair. All messy, unruly curls that caught in the breeze and moved around his head like they just wanted to flirt with me.

  It’s just him, I told myself. I’d never been this turned on, this amped up sexually before. After what happened last night by the fire, it was only natural that I would dream like that, considering the fact that every time he looked at me since, all I wanted to do was finish what we started.

  Get a grip, Ava! I yelled at myself. Geesh, I was like a guy, thinking about sex twenty-four-seven.

  Once again, my brain didn’t seem to get the memo. A vision of the man over me in the dream floated behind my eyes. I concentrated hard, looking for the outline of those curls in the dark.

  I tried to think about the way he smelled, if the scent was familiar, like the natural scent Nash carried.

  There wasn’t anything. Not an inkling of a clue. But it had to be him. No one, and I mean no one, ever affected me the way he does.

  Besides, who else could it be?

  Duke stepped around a tree, his eyes going straight to me. He smiled and my stomach did a little somersault. Okay, it didn’t do a little somersault. It did one of those ungraceful belly flops that have people wincing in pain as they watch you smack into the water with a sharp slapping sound.

  Oh no.

  Duke came closer and sat down on the other side of me, effectively making me into a man sandwich. I laughed at little beneath my breath. Ava was a man-wich.

  I was completely losing it.

  “I found some fruit,” Duke said, holding out some fresh mangos and an avocado.

  “Thank you,” I said, reaching for the mango.

  Nash made a sound and reached around me. “No. Eat the avocado. I think you need something a little more substantial right now.”

  Did he know I was losing it too?

  “Clearly your body is running really low on fuel.”
He continued. “It’s why you’re so tired.”

  Was that all it was? Low blood sugar?

  When I glanced back at Duke, he’d managed to split open the avocado, exposing the light green and ripened flesh.

  “Thank you.”

  I threw myself into eating. And I avoided the stares from the man-wich. It was easier to eat than think right then.

  Probably because my thoughts were very disturbing.

  That dream… If it hadn’t been Nash… there was only one other person it could be.

  I glanced back up, my eyes instantly colliding with Duke’s.

  Could it have been him?

  14

  It was easy to realize when we got close to the other side of the island. Duke grew quiet, even stoic. So much so that I fell back a little and matched my steps with his, walking at his side.

  He glanced at me and I offered him a small smile.

  He reached out and threaded our hands together, holding tightly to me. I didn’t pull away. I couldn’t. I realized I needed the reassurance just as much as he seemed to.

  Up ahead the trees seemed to part, giving way to the beach, and I could hear the waves crashing onto the shore just ahead. We all slowed, creeping to the side and behind a large fern, ducking behind the leaves.

  Nash turned to look at me, his eyes going right to me.

  Duke joined our hands. He didn’t say anything, but the skin around his mouth tightened.

  “I’m going to go closer,” Nash whispered. “Stay here.”

  “Wait,” I whisper-yelled.

  He turned back. “If you hear gunshots, run. Run and don’t look back.”

  That was probably the scariest thing I ever heard in my entire life. The idea of Nash being shot. The idea of me running away and leaving him behind.

  The thought of never seeing him again.

  He didn’t give me a chance to protest. When he disappeared, my stomach began to churn violently. The avocado I ate earlier threatened to make a second appearance. Even though the food did make me feel better, I shouldn’t have eaten it. I should have pretended I was too weak to continue and then Nash would have taken me back to the plane. We wouldn’t be here right now… He wouldn’t be out there…

  I jumped when he reappeared, his eyes a little wider, a little darker than before. I stood, ripping my hand out of Duke’s and rushing forward. I threw myself at him, but he was ready. He caught me, folding me close and burying his face in my hair. I could feel the pounding of his heart against my chest and I knew that he had been afraid.

  “What is it?” I whispered, pulling back and searching his eyes.

  “There are definitely other people on this island.”

  “Did you see them?” I asked excitedly, thinking this might be our lucky day.

  “No,” Nash said, and I noticed he wasn’t as excited.

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  He looked past me at Duke. “You knew, didn’t you?”

  He only nodded.

  “Knew what?” I demanded, not enjoying being the only one who didn’t know what was going on.

  “These people won’t help us,” Nash answered, his eyes never leaving Duke.

  “What people!” I demanded, my voice a little louder. Nash placed a couple fingers to my lips.

  “Pirata,” he whispered.

  Like I knew what that meant. After days of listening to him randomly speak Spanish, it still sounded like a bunch of gibberish. I wanted to shake him and say, “Use your words, man!” but I decided that probably wouldn’t be a good idea, so I gave him an exasperated look instead.

  “Come on,” he said, taking my hand. “I’ll show you.”

  The three of us moved out of the cover of trees and onto the beach. This side of the beach was a little different than our side. It was a little rougher here; there were some rocks around the shore, some of them jutting out into the ocean. Against the rocks sat what appeared to be a little one-room cabin—well, more like a shack.

  The wood was all weathered and gray; the roof was uneven and flat. There was one window, but it didn’t have glass. There was a piece of what looked like tin rested beneath it, and I had the idea that whoever lived there just placed the tin in the window when it rained.

  There were no steps leading into the crooked, warped front door. The shack just sat right there in the sand.

  I wasn’t curious at all what was inside.

  In fact, the idea of going in there at all gave me a serious case of heebie-jeebies.

  The pristine white sand was cluttered here—littered with empty barrels and a long wooden table with more barrels shoved beneath as stools. Beside the table was a chest and I wandered over and lifted the lid. Inside were playing cards and poker chips. There were cigarettes and cigars. I pocketed one of the many lighters, thinking it might come in handy if we ever needed to start a fire quickly.

  There were empty beer bottles all over the place, some of them rolling around in the surf. Fishing nets were strung among some of the barrels and a bar ran across the middle of a large fire pit. I assumed it was used to hang fish from to roast.

  I wandered a little closer to the surf, toward the rocks and away from that creepy shack. Something on the rocks caught my attention and I jogged to it, looking at the chains that literally hung from the jagged rock.

  My stomach churned again. Why would someone have chains like this? A smear of something dark against the rocks gave me the answer and made me gag. Blood.

  Obviously, these chains weren’t here for fun and games.

  I left the chains, my overactive imagination not needing to see any more, and something on the water caught my eye. I ran around to the side and saw it, sitting out in the open right there on the other side of the rocks.

  A boat.

  Not just one boat.

  Many boats.

  I turned, seeking out Nash and Duke. They weren’t far, and I waved my arms at them, trying to get their attention without yelling.

  Duke saw me first and came jogging forward. I saw Nash shove something in his pants and then look up. I waved to him and he ran over, his eyes searching the area all around me.

  “Look,” I said excitedly when they were both within hearing distance. I pointed to the boats.

  Nash let out a whoop of joy and picked me up, spinning me around. I grinned. Finally, a way off this island. “We even have a sailor right here to sail us to safety!” I said, touching Duke on the arm.

  He gave me a warm smile, but not before sadness passed behind his eyes.

  “Let’s go,” Nash said, and the three of started toward the boats.

  As we got closer, it became clear that something wasn’t quite right.

  From where we stood before, the boats appeared heaven sent, like a beacon, a sign of home and safety.

  From up close… They were a disappointment.

  The first boat we came too was nothing but a mere shell. The engine, the steering wheel, and everything that would make the boat actually run were stripped away.

  Nash climbed onto the boat and it sagged down into the waves dangerously low. He let out a curse and climbed out. “There’s a hole in it.”

  I stepped forward and sure enough, just his weight caused the boat to take on water.

  I ran to the one not too far away. It was on the shore, the waves barely reaching it. It was stripped of parts just like the other one. This one had tarps and rope inside.

  We started checking all of them, refusing to give up hope, praying that just one would be suitable to sail.

  But none of them were.

  All hope inside me died.

  The kind of death suitable to a graveyard.

  A boat graveyard.

  “Some of these boats were once really nice,” Nash said, looking at them all grimly.

  “Not anymore,” I intoned and set back in the direction we came. Maybe we should search the creepy shack. Maybe there was a phone or something inside.

  But that’s when I saw it. />
  Another boat. A ship actually. A large white one that cut through the water like a warm knife in butter. It was so pristine it actually gleamed in the sunlight. There was a large flag billowing with the wind, but I couldn’t tell what was on it. The boat was still too far away.

  But not for long.

  It was headed in this direction.

  I called to Nash and Duke and they saw it too. Nash rushed to my side and pulled me down behind the rocks, keeping us from sight. Every few moments, he or Duke would peek over, looking to see what was happening.

  I looked back at the boats, the ones that had been practically vandalized and left there to be used as storage. I thought about the creepy shack, the poker chips… the blood and the chains.

  Whoever lived here was home.

  Whoever lived here was not going to help us.

  Nash’s whispered Spanish word drifted through my head. Pirata.

  I didn’t have to ask him to tell me what it meant. I knew.

  Pirates.

  15

  It took half the time to get back to our side of the island than it did to get across to the pirates’. Adrenaline and fear are great motivators. Not to mention that once Nash thought we were far enough away from the pirates not to be heard, he set a punishing pace.

  Twice, I thought my lungs were going to burst (from being scared silly or being out of breath, I couldn’t tell), but thankfully, Duke was there to spur me on and give me a hand. At one point, I was pretty sure he actually picked me up and ran with me.

  It wasn’t embarrassing at all. (Not.)

  I decided then that when I got home—if I got home—running was going to be my new hobby.

  When we reached the little lagoon with the wide waterfall, Nash finally stopped and I doubled over, clutching my middle and sucking in lungfuls of air.

  I felt a large hand settle on my back and rub slow circles. “Just breathe,” a voice instructed. I looked up.

  It was Duke.

  “We… should… have… listened…” I wheezed.

  “Sometimes you have to see something for yourself to believe it,” he said kindly.

  Nash thrust a newly filled bottle of water under my nose. “Drink,” he said, not even sounding out of breath. It made me want to kick him in the shin. I mean, he had fabulous hair, a year-round tan, was a pilot, and he was Mr. Fitness? The boy was beyond blessed.