by Selena Kitt
"Charlie! Charlie, are you in here? Can you hear me?" he called out in panic. Normally calm and collected in a crisis, all he could think about was if his Charlotte Rose was in that room, fighting for her life. Was she injured, was she alive? Against all training, he walked further into the inferno.
Moments later, one of the men walked toward him with a small figure in his arms. "Get out, now, Captain!"
Captain Rogers followed him out and watched as he gently laid the person down. His heart dropped to the floor. It was Charlie. There was no doubt about it, even covered in the dark soot from the smoke, he could make out her face. He rushed over.
"Is she breathing?" he asked.
"Please, Captain, stand back!"
Barely thinking about his actions, he did. Another man said, "Captain, you're injured. Your arm! Let me see to it."
Blaine brushed him aside. "Not until I know my XO is all right. And Cook, what about him?" he asked.
He glanced in the direction of the kitchen and no longer saw the flames spreading. All that was visible now was the dark, billowy, gray haze that lingered in the air. The acrid smell burned his nostrils.
Turning back toward where Cook lay on the stretcher, he looked questioningly at the men.
"He needs medical attention stat. We'll take him to sickbay." Three of the men gently lifted the stretcher and took the man away. He would check in with the ship's medic later. Right now, his attention was on Charlie, who was sputtering and coughing. Thank God she was alive.
"Charlie, it's Blaine, can you hear me?"
Charlie nodded. Someone handed her a glass of water and then an oxygen mask. Finally, she asked, her voice hoarse, "Cook? Is he alive?"
"Try not to speak, Lieutenant. Cook is in sickbay now. The fire is out. We're going to lift you onto a stretcher now and take you to get checked out. Don't try to stand. Let us do the work."
"The fire… oh…"
"It's all right, Lieutenant. The fire is out."
The man in charge came out then and went straight to Blaine. "Captain, we're going to have to have some extensive repairs done before we can go back out. It's a good thing we're docked right now."
"I see. I'll attend to it immediately after I've spoken with the medics. I want to make sure the injuries are not serious."
"While you're there, have them dress that burn on your arm. It's pretty nasty looking, Captain."
"Meet me in my office in one hour to discuss the damage and possible cause of the fire, Lieutenant Crane."
"Aye, aye, Captain," he replied.
When Blaine reached sickbay, Charlie was sitting up with the oxygen mask still on her face. He went to her. "When you feel like talking, I'll need a full report, Lieutenant." Leaning over so no one else could hear, he whispered, "Thank God you're all right. Do you know what horrible things were running through my mind? I want to know everything."
She nodded, unable to speak just yet. The look in his eyes conveyed his concern. It was genuine, not just for his executive officer, but for Charlotte Rose, the love of his life. Tears pricked her eyelids when full realization hit her that her life could very well have ended that night. She would have never had the chance to have the life with Blaine she desired.
He put his arm around her for a moment, then, in keeping with protocol, he patted her shoulder and told her he would be back to check on her.
"Captain, I've been told you have a pretty bad burn on your arm. I should attend to that now," one of the ship's medics said to him.
"All right, let's get it taken care of. I need to speak with someone regarding the other two injured."
"What were you thinking, going in that room?" the man asked. "Pardon me, Captain, but I must ask."
"I was thinking that members of my crew were in there. The others were concentrating on putting out the fire."
"They had enough men to handle both jobs, if you don't mind me stating the obvious, sir. This is a pretty severe burn. I'm going to need to clean it up and dress it. I'll prescribe some pain medication for you as well."
Blaine looked at the man as if he'd suddenly grown horns. "I don't have time for pain pills," he growled.
"All the same, sir, you may change your mind when the pain prevents you from sleeping later tonight."
Blaine huffed, but allowed him to do his job. When the burn had been sufficiently treated, he made his way to the cubicle where Cook was being examined.
"Will he make it?" he asked.
"This man is suffering from more than just smoke inhalation, Captain. He needs to be in a hospital, undergoing a battery of tests. I believe he was unconscious before the fire, which is probably what led to the mishap in the first place. It's lucky the Lieutenant arrived when she did or he might not be with us any longer."
Blaine took a step back. So Charlie had been right all along. She had suspected the cook was suffering from some sort of medical problem.
"Make arrangements for him to be taken to Yokosuka immediately."
"Yes, Captain, right away, sir."
Blaine returned to Charlie, whose mask had now been removed. "How are you feeling?" he asked.
She nodded, her throat still raw from inhaling smoke.
Another medic appeared and said, "She just needs rest. I'm going to have her taken to her cabin. She needs a bath, some warm tea and her bed. We've prescribed medication for her."
"See that she receives the best of care. Alert Lieutenant Bing. She's in the cabin next to Lieutenant Vandecamp. She can assist her in getting settled. I need to meet with Lieutenant Crane."
Looking at Charlie, he said, "I'll check in on you later, Lieutenant."
He made his way to his office to speak with the corpsman. The damage had been extensive, but contained to the kitchen. The cause was a skillet full of grease that had caught fire, most likely from neglect when the cook passed out.
"If Lieutenant Vandecamp hadn't happened by when she did, the fire could have spread a lot further before it was discovered and the cook, in all probability, would not have survived," the man told him.
"I see. I'll put one of my men to work arranging for the repairs. Thank you. You've been very helpful. I will expect your written report tomorrow."
"Yes, Captain."
"Dismissed. Get some rest."
The man saluted Blaine and said, "Yes, sir."
Blaine sat down at his desk and winced when he picked up the phone with his injured arm. After making arrangements with one of his crew for the repair of the ship and checking to make sure everything was going as planned with the transfer of the cook to the hospital, he left his office wearily.
When he knocked on the door of Charlie's cabin, Marci answered the door. "Captain, come in. She's resting. I helped her bathe, gave her the tea with honey and lemon that was suggested and put her to bed. She took her medication, and I'd say she's out for the night."
"Thank you. I'll just check on her."
"Yes, sir. I plan to stay with her tonight, in case she needs anything."
"Thank you, Lieutenant."
"You're injured, too, it seems," the woman said, looking at the gauze on his arm.
"Yes, a burn, I'll survive." He crept quietly to the bed, made sure his beloved was sleeping peacefully and breathing normally before he kissed her gently on the forehead, forgetting the fact they were not alone.
When he turned, Marci said quietly, "It's all right, Captain. I know. And I've given her my word to keep that knowledge in confidence."
"We both appreciate that, Lieutenant."
"Now, may I suggest, sir, that you get some much needed rest yourself."
"Call me immediately if Charlie needs anything during the night."
"Yes, sir."
He spent the next few days making sure everything was on schedule with the repairs, their stay in Japan extended due to the damage sustained in the fire.
Blaine consulted with the physicians handling Cook's case at the military hospital and they informed him the man had a small tumor at the bas
e of his brain. It was operable. They scheduled surgery and notified his family. Blaine assigned a replacement immediately for the duration of his recovery.
The burn on the captain's arm was painful and irritating to the man who was used to being in control. Having to have the dressings changed and giving in to the pain meds at night irked him to no end. He had no time for such nonsense.
Charlie was fine, having suffered no ill effects from the smoke she inhaled that night. Her chest x-rays had been clear, her throat healed, and she was back on duty as if nothing ever happened. She was concerned about Cook, of course. She made a full report to Blaine about her findings and about what happened the night she discovered the fire.
The only thing still unresolved was the situation between Captain Rogers and his executive officer, Charlie Vandecamp. And he intended to take care of that matter post haste.
He stopped by Charlie's office one afternoon.
"Charlie," he said when he entered the room and found her at her desk working.
She looked up from the computer and answered, "Yes, sir?"
"I think we need to talk. Will you have dinner with me tonight?" Since the kitchen was unusable while under repair, he had meals brought in each day for the crew.
Charlie hesitated. Finally, in a quiet voice, she replied, "Of course, sir."
"Meet me in my cabin at 1900 hours."
"Yes, Captain."
Blaine turned and walked out of her office.
* * *
Charlie went off duty at 1700, going straight to her cabin for a bath and change of clothes. Knocking on Blaine's door precisely two hours later, she took deep breaths while she waited for him to let her in. She knew this time would come. There had not been a chance to talk about the fire in the busy days since, and she naturally assumed that was what this evening was about. She had presented him with her formal report, of course, but she realized there was a personal talk that had not yet occurred. The ship's crew, upon learning she was the first on the scene and had tried to pull the downed cook to safety, had treated her as a hero. Blaine, on the other hand, would have other ideas, of that she was sure.
"Come on in. I took the liberty of ordering for us. I hope you don't mind."
"Of course not," she replied. She had expected no less. He was in the driver's seat now, both professionally and personally. She had resigned herself to the fact. She was not upset about it, either, to her surprise. She thought that might have been what was missing in her life since he had left. A great deal of soul-searching had taken place in the days since the fire. She could very easily have lost her life that night. That realization has a way of putting things in perspective very quickly.
She sat down to a meal of chicken, rice and vegetables. He served wine, of course. Blaine fancied himself a connoisseur of fine wines these days.
As they ate, he asked how she was feeling, and she assured him she had fully recovered from the smoke damage. She asked about his burned arm, and he brushed it off. She noticed he was no longer wearing the bandage. He would bear a scar, but it only made him look that much sexier and stronger to her.
"Enough with the pleasantries," he went on. "I asked you here tonight because we have some unfinished business about the night of the fire."
"I assumed as much," she muttered in between bites of the delectable dinner.
"Charlie, if you'll recall, I made the suggestion that Cook be taken off duty immediately when you suspected a medical disorder. Do you remember that conversation?"
"Yes, I do."
"You fought me on that, and I gave in to you, against my better judgment. Rest assured, I won't let that happen again. I'm not saying you aren't capable of making good decisions, but I should have trusted my gut instinct on this one."
"I can see your point."
"Had you not happened to make your nightly sweep of the kitchen at that precise moment, we could have lost the entire ship and crew. As it stands, we sustained three injuries and a lost kitchen."
"Yes, sir," she replied as she took a sip of her wine.
"You're a hero, Charlie, and a damn good officer, but I nearly lost you that night. Do you know what that did to me? Do you have any idea of the gut-wrenching fear that clutched my heart while I waited to see if you were the other seaman down in that kitchen? I knew you would have been making your nightly rounds about that time."
"It seems to me the time has come for the two of us to make a decision about our personal relationship and how it affects our professional one," she remarked. "You went into that burning room, against orders, from what I understand."
"I did, Charlie. Against all my years of training, I did just that. I did the unthinkable."
"We both made it out alive. For that, I am thankful, but it doesn't answer the question."
"The question being?" he asked.
"Can we have a relationship without it affecting our careers?"
He set his wine goblet down and looked across the table at her. Taking her hand in his, he replied, "I would certainly like to try."
She breathed a deep sigh of relief at his words. "And so would I," she said softly.
They finished their meal in silence, each deep in thought. After dinner, he pulled her to him and leaned in for a kiss. It was a kiss of possession and great passion. When he released her, he said, "Now, young lady. For putting yourself in danger, for causing me to nearly have a heart attack, and for not listening to my advice in the first place, I'd say you've earned yourself a punishment. Would you agree?"
She nodded. "Why did I know you were going to say that?"
"Because you know me and because you know it's true."
He sat down in one of the chairs that furnished his cabin and took her hand. Pulling her to him, he guided her to his knees. She assumed the position and prepared herself for the worst.
A blast of cold air and shock resulted when he pulled down both her pants and panties. She had not expected a bare-assed spanking from him tonight. She gasped. He chuckled deeply.
"Surprised?" he asked.
She remained silent and waited, nervously licking her lips in anticipation of the sting of the first swat. What was he doing? She felt him move slightly, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw him open a drawer and remove something. What was it?
She didn't have to wait long to find out when he landed a hard smack to her bottom with something other than his hard-hitting hand. Damn him! He had gone out and bought a damn paddle. She couldn't believe it. In the past, all those years ago, he'd used a wooden spoon from the kitchen a few times, but a paddle? This was serious business.
Another hard smack rained down on her tender skin, and she jumped. "Ow!"
He stopped to rub out some of the sting before he, once again, raised the dreaded wooden paddle in the air and brought it down on her reddening cheeks. More swats to the sit-spots and the tops of her thighs followed. "Oh, my God, Blaine, stop!" She couldn't stand any more of that dratted piece of wood. It hurt like the dickens, and she understood his concern.
"I want you to remember for a long time to come—and I think you will after this—just how much I care what happens to you. I care about all my crew members' safety, but if I lost you after finding you again…"
"I get the point… now… can you stop?" she pleaded.
"Not just yet, my love." The paddle connected with her behind three more times before he threw it to the floor and pulled her up into a sitting position on his lap. The fabric of his uniform pants felt scratchy to her aching butt, but it was all but forgotten when he began kissing her. First the top of her head, then her forehead, both cheeks and finally, her lips were treated to the tender touch of his lips. He held her close to his heart, which was beating rapidly.
"My sweet Charlie, a part of me will always remember my little Charlotte Rose, but you are truly Charlie now. An accomplished sailor and officer and, most importantly, my love, and I never want to be parted from you again."
"But, you know that may happen," she reminded
him.
"Yes, but I hope you'll always be waiting for me, as I'll wait for you."
She sighed contentedly. When he stood up, with her in his arms, and moved toward the bed, she smiled.
He laid her down gently and stood, drinking in the sight of her in his bed. Slowly, he removed his clothing, piece by piece, before doing the same with hers. When they were both naked as the day they were born, he lay down beside her and showered her with kisses again, not one inch of her body slighted. His hands followed suit and, again, not one part of her body did they miss as they made a thorough examination, teasing, tantalizing and taunting her. Of course, he was nowhere near completion, as his tongue followed the same path his lips and hands had traveled minutes earlier. When he reached her swollen, throbbing clit, he unleashed his passion in hot, wet licks, his breath hot, his tongue scalding. Desire made itself known, beginning in the tips of her tiny toes and traveling at high speed up her limbs. She shivered. A fire, much like the one that had nearly killed her, had started, the flames threatening to devour her. When she could hold it in no longer, she gave in to the waves that quenched the fire, shuddering uncontrollably and screaming his name.
He didn't speak, but allowed her to return to reality slowly before he thrust his hard, thick cock inside the velvety wetness nestled between her thighs. She opened her legs for him and wrapped them around his waist, urging him with an upward motion of her hips to go deeper, and he did. He filled her completely, not only her body, but also her heart. She was alive, she was well, and she was back in the arms of the only man she could ever fully submit to. And submit she did, for that night, she finally, after fourteen years adrift, gave herself to Blaine Rogers completely; heart, mind, body and soul.
The End
Isabella Kole
Isabella Kole lives in southern Indiana, where she enjoys spending time with her family and friends. Always an avid romance reader, she began writing several years ago.