Stranded With Her Ex

by Jill Sorenson

  “Daniela!”

  It was him; she knew it was him. But her eyelids were too heavy to lift, her limbs too weak to hold her up.

  Something soft and rubbery hit the back of her head, rousing her.

  “Grab the ring,” he ordered. “Damn it, Daniela! Grab the ring or I’m going to come in after you.”

  She opened her eyes with a low moan, looking behind her. There was a U-shaped flotation device on a heavy white rope, ready to pull her to safety. If she could pry her hands off the rock, she would reach for it. But her arms trembled in protest, refusing to cooperate.

  “Grab the ring, Daniela. Do it now!”

  In a far corner of her mind, she knew he couldn’t come in after her. Although he was an excellent swimmer, the situation was far too dangerous. She doubted he’d be able to grab her, and he’d have just as much trouble getting out afterward. His weight would be twice as difficult for the others to handle on the safety pull.

  Her own death seemed like a vague notion, frightening but fuzzy. The idea of Sean drowning for her, splitting his head open on the jagged rocks…

  She let go with one hand, her arm stretching out, numb fingers seeking the rubber ring. The next wave washed her away from the rock, but she managed to hook her arm through the safety ring. Rather than relying on her feeble grip, she tugged the lifesaver over her head, securing it under both arms.

  The task was Herculean, and her body paid the price for the effort. Before they’d even started pulling her up, another wave swept in, taking her to oblivion.

  Sean thought the night of Daniela’s car accident had been the most harrowing of his life. He was wrong. Two years ago, he’d been trapped at Southeast Farallon while she lay in the hospital, close to death. He’d gone out of his mind, worrying about her.

  This was worse.

  Right now he could see her dying, and he felt twice as wretched.

  “She’s unconscious,” he said through clenched teeth. Pulling her up the cliff was a tricky job, fraught with danger. At any moment, she could slip through the ring and tumble back into the water. Her life was hanging by a thread.

  And he was holding that thread in his hands.

  “She’ll be fine,” Jason panted. Although Sean was taking most of the weight, Jason was in the second position, which also required a considerable amount of strength. Either of them could lift Daniela up and throw her over their shoulder with ease, but hauling more than a hundred pounds by rope was more difficult.

  Precious seconds ticked by.

  Her head lolled back and forth, insensible.

  Finally, she was within reach. Sean heaved her up the last few feet, adrenaline fueling his movements. He dragged her lifeless body across the ground and stretched her out, flat on her back, along a safer section of path.

  Her face was ashen and her lips were blue. “Breathe,” he commanded, pressing his lips to hers and filling her lungs with oxygen. “Breathe!”

  She sputtered, water gurgling from her mouth. Sean turned her on her side, cradling her head in his lap while she retched and retched. Joyous shouts rang out along the cliff side. Hands patted his back as tears of relief ran down his face.

  “Thank God,” he murmured, holding her close as she began to shudder uncontrollably. Her skin was like ice. She wasn’t out of the woods yet.

  Sweeping her into his arms, he made his way down the path, her small body shaking, her wet clothes soaking his. “Make her a hot drink,” he snarled as soon as they came in the door. “I’m going to warm her up.”

  Upstairs, he kicked open the door to the bedroom he shared with Jason, putting her in the only chair. She shivered while he took off her jacket and pulled her top over her head. He knelt to unlace her boots, cursing when the wet laces failed to budge. Taking the knife off his belt, he cut them away.

  After getting rid of her boots and socks, he stood her up to strip her pants off. Her panties came down with them, leaving her clad in only a soaked-through bra. The dark circles of her nipples were clearly visible through the transparent fabric. He fumbled with the clasp at her back, trying to ignore the most beautiful breasts in the world when they tumbled free. His towel was hanging on a hook by the door. With trembling hands, he grabbed it, rubbing the terry cloth over her wet hair and pale skin, drying her as best he could.

  He unzipped his sleeping bag and put her inside, covering her before he went to work on his own clothes. In less than a minute, he was naked but for a pair of boxer briefs. He kept them on, assuming she’d prefer to have at least one barrier between them.

  Jason knocked on the door and stuck his head inside. “This is just hot water,” he said, handing Sean a mug. “The tea is still brewing.”

  “Thanks,” he said, taking the mug from Jason and shutting the door behind him. He knelt beside the bed, helping her raise her head to take a sip.

  When she’d had enough, he set the mug down and climbed into the sleeping bag with her. Her skin was cold, too cold. Concern for her kept his thoughts pure. Focusing only on getting her warm, he wrapped his arms around her and put his mouth close to hers.

  “Breathe in when I exhale,” he said. Hypothermia affected the lungs, so filling them with warm air was essential.

  Her lips brushed over his as she nodded.

  He breathed into her, again and again, giving his heat, his warmth, his life to her. His blood was still pumping with adrenaline, his heart hammering against hers. By slow increments, her skin took on the same temperature as his. His fear and anxiety faded as her trembling subsided. After a while, the tight space inside the sleeping bag wasn’t just warm.

  It was hot.

  Sean buried his face in the hollow of her neck, collapsing with relief. If worry for her had prevented him from responding to the unintentional eroticism of the situation, his relaxing concern had the opposite effect. Her body was so soft, so luscious. He loved every solitary inch of her, not just her breasts. Her belly button was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. The curve of her spine drove him crazy.

  Even the sight of her bare toes turned him on.

  He shifted his weight to one side, hoping she wouldn’t notice the way his body was reacting to hers. “What happened?”

  She moistened her lips. “I don’t know.”

  “Taryn said you fell.”

  “I—I guess I did. But—” She broke off, frowning.

  “What?”

  “I felt something hit me.”

  He froze. “Hit you where?”

  “In the back.”

  “Like a push?”

  She gave him a strange look. “No. More like a bump. Like Taryn lost her balance and bumped into me.”

  His stomach clenched with dread.

  “I thought the safety rail would stop my forward momentum, but it didn’t. When I hit the side of the railing, it just…fell away.”

  “That’s strange,” he said. “I checked the rail earlier this week. It was solid.”

  Daniela stared up at him, her eyes dark and deep in the lamplight. “I don’t know what to say. Maybe I imagined it.” She tore her gaze from his, making a harsh sound. “We all know I’m a little crazy.”

  “No,” he said, feeling his resolve slip. She must have felt it, too, because she glanced his way again, studying his mouth in a way that could have roused a dead man.

  Sean wasn’t dead. He’d been halfway there, emotionally, much of the time they’d spent apart, but he was alive now. Every fiber of his being was on full alert, every nerve in his body vibrating, every muscle taut.

  Any blood that was left in his head rushed south, hardening his erection to a painful degree, and he knew damned well she could feel that. Her eyelids got heavy and her mouth went soft. A bead of sweat trickled down his spine, into the waistband of his shorts.

  Jason opened the door again. “Tea?”

  Sean couldn’t take his eyes off Daniela.

  “I guess you don’t need it,” he said, a smirk in his voice.

  “Go away,” Sean said hoa
rsely. “Before I kill you.”

  As soon as Jason closed the door, Daniela threaded her fingers through his hair and lifted her parted lips to his. Making a strangled sound, he gave her what she wanted, thrusting his tongue inside her mouth, tasting her deeply. She moaned, kissing him back with sultry enthusiasm. When he slid his thigh between her legs, pressing hard, she gasped, digging her fingernails into his sweat-slicked back.

  He wanted to take her hips in his hands and grind himself against her, stroke his erection along her sweet, hot cleft. He wanted to be inside her.

  Panting, he broke contact with her mouth, trying to recover his wits. God, he felt as coarse as a schoolboy. He was going to climax all over her stomach.

  “Don’t stop,” she whispered, her hand drifting down his belly.

  He caught her before she went too far. “If you touch me, I’ll come.”

  She nibbled on her lower lip, clearly not put off by the idea. He kissed her again, distracting her, and shifted his thigh from between her legs, making room for his hand. The feel of her wet heat against his fingertips was like heaven. He slid his index finger along the seam of her sex and slipped it inside, where she grasped him snugly.

  “God,” he muttered, clenching his teeth. “You’re so hot.”

  She squirmed and spread her legs wider, begging him for more. She’d always been responsive, but this display of sensuality was so overt, he almost couldn’t hold himself in check. Her scent filled his nostrils as he stroked her, plunging his fingers in and out. Her breasts quivered, the dusky tips jutting forward. His mouth watered to taste her. When she whimpered, he pressed the ball of his thumb to her swollen clit.

  That was all it took. One little nudge. She bit her lip to keep from crying out as she shattered, convulsing around his fingers.

  If he moved, he’d follow her, so he stayed right where he was, his eyes on her face and his hand between her legs. When she relaxed, blinking up at him as though she’d just drifted back down to earth, he eased back slowly.

  His fingers were slick and fragrant with her. He stared at her glistening sex, caught between exquisite pleasure and acute agony, his cock as stiff as Skull Rock. Aware that he was no longer capable of telling her no, she pushed down the front of his shorts. Watching his face, she ran her fingertip down his rigid length.

  And that was all it took for him. One simple touch.

  Making a soft O with her lips, she wrapped her fingers around him, squeezing and stroking his shaft. When she swept her thumb over the blunt tip, spreading a bead of moisture, he groaned, his body jerking uncontrollably.

  She bent her head, touching her tongue to him.

  The moment her hot mouth closed around him, he started to climax. She stayed right where she was, drawing him deep.

  When it was over, she rested her cheek on his belly, eyes closed.

  He wasn’t sure how long it took him to recover. Seconds ticked by and silence stretched between them, punctuated only by his thundering heartbeat and ragged breaths. Fighting against post-orgasmic lassitude, and the deeper, more disturbing need to hold her in his arms all night long, he forced himself to roll away.

  Still reeling from the encounter, he sat at the edge of the bed. With trembling hands, he pulled his briefs back into place. Their sex life had always been inspired, and he prided himself on having a certain amount of stamina. He’d never gone off at the drop of a hat. Then again, he hadn’t had a two-year stint of abstinence since losing his virginity at the tender age of fifteen.

  She came up behind him, placing one hand on his shoulder and touching her lips to the center of his back. After what passed between them this afternoon at Dead Man’s Beach, not to mention her near-drowning this evening, all of his emotions were on edge. He lurched up from the bed, feeling the hot sting of tears in his eyes once again.

  Sean was glad Daniela was letting go of her grief and working through her aversion to touch. Really. And he understood why she felt safe with him, her former husband. But he just couldn’t do this with her, not on a purely physical level.

  He dug through his belongings, taking out a fresh set of clothes. After changing into them, he tossed her a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. While she got dressed, he gathered all of their wet clothes, including her lacy panties, and shoved them in his laundry bag, as if getting rid of the evidence.

  Only then did he summon the nerve to look at her.

  She was sitting on the lower bunk, arms crossed over her chest, her petite body swimming in his extra-large clothes. The legs of his sweatpants covered her feet and then some, and the short sleeves of his T-shirt hung down past her elbows.

  Her big brown eyes seemed to take up half her face.

  There was a scrape on her cheekbone that would probably look worse tomorrow, and another, smaller mark on her chin. He hadn’t really noticed them until now, and that made him feel like a prize bastard.

  She was hurt, and vulnerable; he shouldn’t have touched her.

  Clenching his jaw, he grabbed a bottle of Tylenol from his pack. Shaking a couple of pills into his palm, he handed them to her, along with the cooling water.

  She took the painkillers without complaint.

  “I’m going to check the railing,” he said. “Do you need anything?”

  Raising a trembling hand to her hair, which was drying in wild tangles around her face, she said, “I’d like a warm bath, actually.”

  Nodding, he left the room, walking down the hall and into the bathroom. He checked the tub to make sure it was clean before he plugged the drain and turned on the faucet. The water ran clear and hot, luckily.

  Not asking her permission, he picked her up and carried her to the bathroom, shutting the door behind them.

  She allowed him to help her out of his clothes, shivering a little.

  “Stay in here until I get back.”

  Naked, she slipped into the warm water.

  Sean didn’t mean to look. He certainly didn’t mean to look so long, memorizing every dip and curve of a body he’d never stopped fantasizing about. He didn’t mean to clench his hands into fists, or make a sound of quiet desperation.

  She rested her head against the tub and closed her eyes, biting down on her lush lower lip.

  He knew what she was remembering. More than once, he’d begged her to touch herself while he watched. Usually, she laughed off his requests, chiding him softly. But, on one memorable occasion, she’d pulled herself up out of the bubble bath, soapsuds clinging to her gorgeous body, and done exactly what he’d asked.

  “I’m going to check the railing,” he said, hoarse.

  “You mentioned that already.”

  “Right.” Clearing his throat, he left the bathroom.

  Downstairs, everyone seemed to be immersed in their own projects, as usual. Brent was editing the day’s footage, and Jason was writing an accident report. Elizabeth must have gone to her room, but Taryn was sitting at the table, in front of her laptop.

  “Is Daniela okay?” she asked.

  His blood, which had only just cooled, began to boil again. The thought of Taryn pushing Daniela filled him with an almost insupportable rage. “She’s fine now,” he said in a mild tone. “Come into the kitchen for a second.”

  With a small frown, she closed her laptop and rose from her chair. Jason gave him an assessing look, but he didn’t interfere.

  The instant Taryn stepped into the kitchen Sean trapped her against the pantry door, putting his face close to hers. “If you ever touch Daniela again,” he said in a low, dangerous voice, “I will drag you outside and throw you to the sharks myself!”

  She winced, trying to sidestep him. He wouldn’t let her. “Elizabeth lost her balance,” she said through clenched teeth. “She fell forward, into my back, and I went flying into Daniela. It was an accident.”

  Sean eased up on her. “Elizabeth hit you first?”

  She broke away from him, her eyes flashing with anger. “Yes. If I was going to push anyone off a cliff, it would be you,
you stupid jerk.”

  Sean moved back a step, rubbing a hand over his face. He took a few calming breaths, trying to regain some sense of self-control. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, regretting his actions. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “Whatever,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

  His fear for Daniela hadn’t abated, and he was still curious about the push. Walking out of the kitchen, he glanced upstairs. When pressed, Brent had revealed the story about Elizabeth’s father, a struggling tour guide who’d come to a bad end. Sean didn’t think Elizabeth had any reason to attack Daniela, however.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Jason warned. “I’m going to talk to Elizabeth myself, and employ a bit more finesse.”

  “Finesse? Seems like that tactic earned you a slap earlier.”

  His eyes darkened. “Mind your own business. Taryn said it was an accident, and Elizabeth apologized repeatedly while you were busy.”

  Sean struggled against the urge to grab Jason by the front of the shirt and haul him outside to knock some sense into him. He wasn’t taking this situation seriously enough. “Daniela said the railing was loose.”

  Jason straightened. “Really? It felt fine yesterday.”

  “I’m going up to the tower to check it.”

  Brent picked up his camera. “I’ll go, too.”

  “No,” Jason said, setting his paperwork aside. “You stay here with the girls. I want to look at it myself.”

  Although Brent seemed disappointed, he agreed. He was probably upset that he hadn’t caught Dani’s near-drowning on tape.

  Sean and Jason put on their jackets, stepping out into the stormy night. A hard rain had begun to fall, pelting their hoods and shoulders. He hoped it wouldn’t wash away evidence that the railing had been loosened by human hands.

  They ascended the hill quickly. Near the summit, there was a rash of muddy footprints, left during Daniela’s harrowing rescue. Sean bypassed that area, still shaken by the images of her lifeless body, the feel of her chilled skin.

  A few feet up the path, the safety railing was hanging at an odd angle, swinging out over the precipice. The base of one post was splintered. When Sean knelt at the footing and righted the post, it stayed in place.