by Raina Wilde
“I’m decent.” He informed.
“Just go.” She continued to wave him away.
“Emily,” she heard the bed groan as he sat down upon it, “I’m sorry that you had to see me naked.” He was laughing, she realized. The man was laughing!
She did not, however, know what he was apologizing for. As far as Emily was concerned, she had just witnessed the most delicious male form that she had ever laid eyes upon. It was not a moment that she would soon forget. She only remained on the floor, she convinced herself, in protection of his modesty.
Clearly that was something he had in short supply.
Emily flopped over and stared at the decorative bronze ceiling tiles. In her peripheral vision she could see that Ben was sitting casually on the bed with the sheet wrapped around his waist. His torso, however, remained bare.
Suddenly she sat up and stared at him in shock.
“What are you doing with a gun?” she demanded. It had only just occurred to her that he had burst into the room with a lethal looking handgun and a powerful stance as he had aimed for the kill.
“Why wouldn’t I have a gun?” He replied with nonchalance.
“Fair enough.” She sighed and chewed her lip. “Do I get one?”
“Do you have a license?” he asked.
“No.”
“Have you ever shot a gun before?”
“No. But, you could teach me.” she said hopefully. A gun would make her feel much more prepared to face Casper.
“Where would I teach you?” He cocked his head at her like a parent who is humoring their child. “In this cabin? I don’t think so.” Ben shook his head. “No. You can’t have a gun. Unless you tell me where the evidence is hidden, then I might consider it.”
“Come on!” Emily found herself scooting across the floor as she begged. “How many do you have in that bag?”
“I have enough.” He stated this with a finality that informed Emily that their conversation about the weaponry was over. “May I finish my shower?”
“Yes.” Emily mumbled as he sauntered away. She found that the ability to hear the water running on the other side of the wall elicited a series of entirely inappropriate images to flash through her mind.
The first day, and the next, passed with relative speed, much to Emily’s surprise. Ben helped Emily to dye her blond hair a dark chestnut brown and chop the length to land just above her shoulders. The change was remarkable. In combination with stuffing her bra, and wearing heels beneath over-long pants to mask her height, Emily was able to leave the room for short durations to procure food.
On nearly all of these excursions Emily passed dangerously close to one of Casper’s henchmen. She reported her observations with dismay to Ben. He recorded a list of each of the men that she recognized as well as those she suspected to be in Casper’s employ.
The constant, but inconspicuous presence prevented Emily from attempting to retrieve her stolen items. However, she did not feel a sense of urgency to risk a hasty recovery due to the fact that the message that Ben had sent to his men had still gone unanswered. She prayed that somehow they received the SOS, but until the SEAL Team’s arrival there would be no alternative method of transportation with which to disembark the cruise ship.
There still remained ten days on the route that would take them south to Brazil before turning northward to dock, eventually, in New York. Emily had purposely chosen a path that did not lead directly to the United States. While those routes were much faster, she had known that they would have been the first that Casper would have checked after realizing that she had not traveled by air.
Emily and Ben had a surplus of time with which to get to know each other. Four days into their isolation, Emily could have said with a decent amount of certainty that she knew Ben better than she had known Casper, even though she had shared a long-distance relationship with the latter for nearly two years.
She was absolutely certain that Ben knew her better than her former lover. During their long conversations, as they attempted to keep boredom at bay, he had asked her many personal questions. It occurred to her that they were sharing information that she had never overtly discussed with any other man. He asked about her parents, her older brother, and even her favorite pet—a Siberian husky name Vera.
Ben’s insightful attitude, though she was certain that his attention to detail was what made him successful on dangerous missions, made Emily question the superficial relationships in which she had been involved. She began to realize that Casper had never asked about, nor offered, any information that would be considered too personal. That was how he had kept his seedy lifestyle from catching her attention.
Casper Lorenz had distracted Emily with glamour and entertainment, while Ben dove deep into her life with exceptional understanding.
Emily was also surprised to have Ben answer her questions with what she assumed was complete honesty. Other than the moments of paralyzing fear that gripped her when the criminals could be heard scouring the ship in the early morning hours, Emily could say that she was actually managing to enjoy herself for large portions of the day.
On the fourth day, holed up in the small cabin, Emily returned with their dinner and a deck of playing cards.
“Where did you get those?” Ben said with excitement. Talking had been great but they were in desperate need of some form of entertainment.
“I traded a beer for them to a teen who was hanging out near the restaurants.” Emily’s voice dripped with sarcasm. She laughed before clarifying. “I bought them in the gift shop. Don’t look at me like that. There were no thugs in sight and I paid cash.” She placed the tray of food down on the small breakfast table. “I almost brought some beer, but I knew you would give me a zero-fun lecture about maintaining focus at all times.” She ended with a tone that mimicked a statement he had made the day before about maintaining constant vigilance. As intended, he joined in her laughter.
“Just because I think that focus is important doesn’t mean that I am incapable of having a good time.” Ben stood and snatched the cards from her hand. “What are we playing?”
“War.” Emily said with emphasis.
“All’s fair…” He sat at the table and began to deal.
Two hours later they sat cross-legged, facing each other, in the center of the bed. They were currently tied for total wins and had agreed that this final game would determine the champion.
As Emily placed another wild king over Ben’s final card she raise her hands in victory. She had just started cheering for herself and taunting Ben with her win when he grabbed the cards that lay between them and began to flip through them.
“You’re a cheater!” he accused. “You had five kings that round. You were re-using them.”
“You can’t prove it. Just like you can’t prove a thing about Casper.” Emily continued to cheer and tease him while laughing with raucous abandon.
“Like hell, I can’t.” Ben flung the cards toward the end of the bed and launched himself at her. She landed on her back amongst the pillows as he tickled her until she begged for mercy. “Admit it!” he demanded laughing nearly as hard as she was.
“OK. OK.” She gasped. “I cheated. I admit that I cheated. You win.”
“I win the argument or I win the game?” he paused with his hands hovering close to her rib cage, ready to strike again if she answered incorrectly.
As their gazes collided it was as if the air in the room was suddenly heavy with expectation. They both ceased their laughter and stared at each other for an endless moment. They were no longer touching, yet his body hovered provocatively above her own on the bed.
“Both.” The word eased past Emily’s lips in a breathy whisper. She watched as the pupils of his gray eyes contract at the same time as his breathing slowed to a shallow murmur.
Emily’s heart hammered in her chest as she waited with aching anticipation for his mouth to meet her own.
It didn’t.
Instead, Ben raised a ha
nd and gently threaded his fingers into the hair beneath her head. His gaze never left her own as his thumb stroked in tantalizing circles beneath her ear. The tender massaging motion sent rivulets of sensation to the furthest reaches of Emily’s body.
Their only point of contact was his hand at her neck, yet Emily felt as if his fingers had begun roaming freely over all of the most intimate regions of her body. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the pressure of his kneading fingers.
Her lips opened in pleasure and it was at that moment that Ben’s mouth captured her own. His mouth had retained a hint of the chocolate mint that had served as dessert following dinner and Emily found that the lingering taste had an erotic effect on her sensory perception.
She sighed against his lips and raised her hands to rest upon the firm muscles of Ben’s chest. The lightweight cotton shirt did nothing to mask the hard planes that lay beneath the fabric.
Emily could not resist the realization that she needed desperately to feel his body against her own. She curled her fingers into the shirt and tugged him forward until Ben’s frame covered hers entirely. He managed to maintain an intricate balance between holding the bulk of his weight supported above her and exerting an enticing amount of pressure that molded their bodies together from shoulder to toe.
His hands now had the freedom to explore the hypersensitive areas of Emily’s flesh that she had imagined only moments before. Ben grasped her waist with one hand before inching his fingers upward beneath the ribbed tank that she wore.
He released a guttural groan when she arched against him as his hand came to rest on her breast. The thin fabric of her bra did not prevent the heat of his hand from creating a glorious sensation against her sensitive skin. His thumb brushed her nipple and Emily gasped against his mouth with a rising level of need that was unlike any she had ever felt before.
She tugged at the waistline of his shirt and felt a smile cross his lips at her hurried behavior. She could tell that he was trying to take things slow but if he took any longer Emily was sure that she would die of frustration. The past days spent alone with this man had been a terrible test of willpower. Now that she was discovering that the reality was monumentally superior to what she had been imagining each night in her dreams, Emily found that her need to feel connected to this man was greater than she had once thought.
Ben shed his shirt as her demands became more exuberant. When her hands moved to the clasp of his jeans any pretense of control that he had left disappeared in an instant. Within seconds he had disrobed, not even breaking contact of the passionate kiss that still flowed between their hurried lips.
“Ben, please.” She cried as his lips moved to her neck. Her clothes joined his in a jumbled heap on the floor. He pressed himself against her, this time nothing came between their bodies to prevent the satin feel of skin against skin.
At that moment, for Emily, time stopped. Ben’s mouth seemed to be everywhere as he patiently explored every inch of her throbbing body. His tongue traced lazy circles around her breast before moving in an indirect trail toward her navel. His breath brushed the inside of her thigh before coming to rest at the very center of her core.
Slow, pulsing waves began to roll through Emily’s body as she pleaded with Ben to hurry. He seemed perfectly content to take his time.
When she threw her head back and cried out his name, he finally joined her with an urgency that matched her own. Returning, once again, to gain entry to her mouth, Ben positioned the hot length of his erection against her. Emily’s eyes fluttered closed as she waited for the moment of connection, but opened them when he did not initiate contact.
At the instant that their gazes collided Ben entered her with an unhurried but constant pressure. Inch by tantalizing inch he pushed himself inside of her. He rolled to his back, pulling her to sit astride his hips and placed his hands on her thighs as he followed her motions. Emily rocked above him until her body clenched around his in a climax that carried them both to the brink of insanity.
The vulgarity that Emily uttered was swallowed by Ben’s ultimate kiss, a joining so powerful that she knew, without a doubt, that Ben had been sending a very obvious message. Something about the moment implied that he was claiming her as his own. Something, though Emily was not entirely sure what it was, said that in this moment they had shared much more than just primal instinct.
Later that evening, Emily woke wrapped in the tight embrace of her lover. She was pleased to find that, despite their numerous repeat performances, her body still reacted with an intense longing for the Navy SEAL.
She realized that it had been Ben’s lips moving luxuriously along the back of her shoulders that had caused her to wake with a satisfied sigh. She heard him mutter something barely intelligible about needing to take a shower, before he peeled himself from the bed and shuffled lazily toward that bathroom.
“Aren’t you joining me?” he asked with a sexy grin from over his shoulder.
In two quick strides she was at his side, already kissing and touching him before the water temperature reached a comfortable level.
It was an erotic experience, taking the time to wash each other’s bodies. Emily discovered many points of interest that she had not noticed in the earlier throes of passion. Ben had a small scar on his lower waist from an appendectomy. She remembered him mentioning that it had taken place in his childhood. He had both the entry and exit point of a gunshot wound on the meat of his thigh, as well as hundreds of tiny scars on his forearms and torso that he informed her had come from a grenade blast nearly five years ago. He also, she noted with a smile, harbored a pale birthmark on the left cheek of his backside.
When they had finished, Emily stepped from the bathroom wearing only a towel.
She looked up to find three men, dressed entirely in black, lounging casually about the room. Before she had a chance to scream a hand came down over her mouth and she heard Ben’s voice whisper in her ear.
“Don’t scream.” Ben turned her to face him and leaned down to look into her eyes. “We’re alright.” He assured. “These are my teammates. Breathe, OK?”
With her heart thudding in her chest, Emily clutched the towel and took a series of calming breaths. She could not bring herself to speak, but nodded her understanding that these men were no threat.
“Come on, Portman. Put some clothes on already.” One of the men laughed, tossing Ben a pair of jeans that he promptly slid on. Having heard her sharp intake of breath, Ben had rushed out of the bathroom behind Emily, once again with a gun drawn.
“It’s about damn time you three made an appearance.” Ben clasped hands with each of the men in turn.
“Do you know how many strings we had to pull to get access to an SDV out here in the middle of the Atlantic?” A blond-haired giant of a man lay on the bed, soaking wet. “We had to airdrop onto a sub, then get the damn thing to alter its course. All of that just to get us close enough to track this cruise ship with the unit.”
“What’s an SDV?” Emily asked. She had been eavesdropping on the conversation while extracting a pair of shorts from her duffel bag.
“Pick something warmer.” The blonde pointed at her choice of clothing. “You’ll want to wear whatever you have that is warmest.”
Emily chose a pair of thick sweatpants instead while the man continued to talk.
“An SDV,” he informed, “is a SEAL Delivery Vehicle. It’s a diver-controlled submersible that we use to carry our equipment when we don’t want to, for example, pull up alongside a hijacked cruise liner in a speedboat that announces our arrival like Christmas morning.”
“You swam here?” Emily asked with skepticism.
“Not exactly.” Ben clarified. “It’s more like being dragged along by a torpedo. Except that you can steer.”
Utterly confused, Emily retreated to the bathroom to change. While she dressed, the men continued to discuss tactical plans in terminology that might as well have been a foreign language.
When she re
joined the men they were quiet. She assumed they had formulated some sort of plan because there were four pairs of eyes staring at her with an expectant nature.
“Emily,” Ben began, “I think it’s time that you told us where the disks are hidden.”
Emily groaned and rubbed her hand across her forehead.
“The thing is,” she paced across the plush carpet, “when I hid them I had no idea that Casper had employees on this ship. I would have never guessed that the staff would be involved.”
“Emily.” Ben held her shoulders to end her stride. “Where are they?”
She dropped her head against Ben’s chest in defeat.
“They are in the galley kitchen.” Literally, she told herself, in the center hub of the staffing world. “I figured that it was the one place on the ship that would take Casper the longest to search.
“So, I pretended to be lost and seasick on the first day. I found the kitchen and convinced the chef that if I could sit and rest for a moment, I would be fine. At first he was really concerned, until I pretended to fall asleep. I sat like that for about forty minutes until I finally had a moment to myself. Very quickly, I hid the bag of disks at the very back of the cabinet that held the glassware. The furthest row was dusty, so I guessed that they rarely have reason to use all of the glasses at once.” She looked up into Ben’s face with regret. “I never expected that I was hiding them someplace where Casper’s goons might stumble upon them. I thought my idea was foolproof and that, even if a staff member happened to find them they would simply be mailed to the address that I left inside the bag.”
She was in completely over her head. It occurred to Emily that she had not had as firm of a grasp on the situation as she had thought. If it had not been for Ben, she was certain she would have been caught by now.
A stocky, bearded man moved from his position by the window and tossed a notepad on the table beside Emily.