by Lily Harlem
The wallet was made of soft brown leather, a little worn around the edges and without label or design. It was a modest wallet, well used and lacking any kind of wealth statement.
I flipped it open.
A picture of myself, wearing a sun hat and holding secateurs and a red rose, greeted me.
It was the shot I’d sent him. Me in my garden. He’d had it made to fit behind the small, clear screen in his wallet.
I placed it down, still wide open, and pressed my hands together, prayer-like, against my mouth and nose.
He carried me everywhere.
Whenever he paid for something, there I was, smiling up at him.
Wherever he was, he could see me.
I thought of the shadowed picture I had of him in a frame at home. Now that I’d met him, I could tell it was him—the angle of his nose, his heavy brows, his top lip. But this one, of me…
Well, it wasn’t so bad. I looked nice, pretty, certainly casual.
I picked the wallet up again.
A tug in my chest felt like it might turn into a sob. He might be young, but it seemed he did really care for me. He just had a crush, though. It was infatuation, nothing more. How could a man like him really be interested in a forty-something woman? He was kidding himself.
Wasn’t he?
Opposite my photograph was a white business card. His business card. In black letters it read, Sullivan T. Cole, Managing Director, IT Practical Solutions, Ltd.
IT Practical Solutions Limited.
He’d told me all about his company. His father had built the business up in the nineties, then Sullivan had taken hold of the reins to allow his dad to take early retirement six years ago. I recalled the conversation. Then, I’d presumed he’d had other work experience before taking on such a major role, but it seemed there wouldn’t have been much time for that. He couldn’t have been much more than a graduate when he’d taken over the family business.
I had to admire him. Being a business management lecturer, I knew there was nothing easy about stepping into someone else’s shoes and taking control. There was a lot to juggle in a flourishing company, especially with the present global economic situation. Also, people were inclined to hanker after the old management and resist change, even if it was for the best.
No wonder he liked to get out and live life to the max when he had a break—take to the open seas or hit the slopes in the Rockies. He’d often told me his day had been stressful, or he was having trouble with a client or an employee. It seemed he juggled lots of roles to hold the whole thing together, and it was hard going.
The card was also covered in thin, clear plastic, and I smoothed my finger over his name and position. It was an impressive title for someone his age. Managing Director of a limited company. There was clearly more to Sullivan than just his pretty face.
But I knew that.
I knew him. I knew lots of stuff about him. Personal stuff, things he hoped for, worried about, and how he hated coffee with milk or cream and couldn’t resist a good horror movie.
I flipped the wallet shut and, after brushing my teeth, headed to my small cabin. Once inside, I was glad of the cool breeze that slipped in through the opening of the star-filled skylight and caressed my exposed skin.
Yes. I knew Sullivan Cole, and it was just a case of matching his face to all of that information.
* * * *
My dreams were filled with blue skies, turtles and fluffy, white clouds that cradled around me, rocking me, soothing me, tilting me this way and that in a constant languid motion.
I saw Greek gods, islands rising from an aqua sea, and heard the sound of waves slicing around dolphins as they rose and fell from the water as if flying.
The images and sounds of my dreams faded, and reality broke into my consciousness. For a moment, I wondered where I was, then my foot touched the cool surface of the cabin wall, and I remembered that I was on Dolly Bird and Sullivan was sleeping up on deck.
I turned to my back and looked up at the skylight. The stars had gone, and in their place was a clear sky fractured by a length of white mast holding a taut sail.
I’d have to get up and grab a taxi to the airport.
The thought made me sad all over again. It could have been so perfect.
My body tilted slightly to the right, then upward and back down.
The water in the harbor hadn’t been this rough the night before, and judging by the cloudless sky, it certainly didn’t seem like a storm was over us.
I sat up and braced my hands behind myself, stared at my ruby-red painted toenails.
Again I was jostled, not lots, but certainly more than I’d been the night before.
I swung my legs around, exited the cabin, then stood on the rocking floor of the small seating area. I flicked open one of the drawn curtains.
“What the…?”
All I could see was water. No land, no houses, and certainly no Fiscardo. Just an endless expanse of blue occasionally topped with a burst of white froth.
I spun around and looked out of the opposite window. It was the same.
Nothing but water.
I’m out at sea.
A wave butted the boat, and I lurched toward the galley and grabbed the counter for support. What the hell was going on?
I was confused, not to mention dry from the wine the night before. I went into the bathroom, brushed my teeth and splashed water on my face. After a quick gulp of bottled water, I headed up the small steps and pushed open the door to the outside world.
The glare of the sun hit me like a spotlight being turned onto my face, but I ignored it and climbed onto the windy deck.
“What on earth,” I said, holding on to the table and staring at the front of the boat, “is going on?”
Two white sails ballooned above me. Enormous and dramatic, they clung to the mast, ropes straining and groaning, reaching for the sky.
“Good morning.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I shouted, spinning and spotting Sullivan standing behind the large chrome wheel.
He wore nothing but his swim shorts and shades. The breeze had flattened his hair backward, and his shoulders and upper arms were tense as he held the wheel.
“Taking you for a spin,” he called over the breeze, grinning so wide his cheeks balled. “Like it?”
“No…no…and that is not what’s happening. Take me back to Fiscardo right now.” How dare he? Anger coiled in my stomach. It felt like my veins were suddenly too narrow for my blood.
“Can’t.” He shrugged.
“Of course you can. Turn around.” I put my hand up to shield my eyes and looked over his shoulder. In the far distance, I could make out land, rising giant-like from the sea. “Back there, take me back there.” I pointed, as a pounding beat set up in my temples.
“Can’t, the wind is blowing us this way.” He signaled to the sails. “We’re at the mercy of the gods.”
I held on to the rail that supported the Bimini and hoisted myself upward onto the main body of the boat for a better look at my location. The wind caught my hair and cooled my cheeks. I peered into the distance. “There must be a way, and I demand that you—”
He reached for my wrist, grabbed me, and pulled me down.
“Hey, watch it,” I said, gripping a metal railing that ran around the side of the boat. I was struggling to keep my footing and bumped against the table.
“No, you watch it.” He released me and gestured above me. “The boom nearly got you. Gotta keep an eye out for it. Wily sucker once the speed picks up.” He stepped away and grabbed the wheel again.
“Why did it do that? It nearly killed me.” I looked up at the scarily heavy bar that had ropes slipping upward. It had nearly chopped my head off. Damn thing.
“Probably won’t kill you,” Sullivan said, tightening something on his right. “But it will give you a thumper of a headache. Best you stay on this part of the deck for now.”
Huh, I had a headache already
. Temper did that to me. “Not very health and safety conscious around here, is it?” I stepped behind him, as far away as possible from the lurching pole, and held on to the stern rail.
“Baby,” he said, still gripping the wheel but looking at me over his shoulder. “This is the big bad ocean. Danger lurks everywhere. Not even a guy with a hard hat and a clipboard can sort this out.”
I frowned at him. “Seriously, take me back. I don’t want to be out here.”
“I told you, I can’t. Besides, I want you to see some of the islands before you jump on a plane and leave me.”
“What?” I put one hand on my hip but kept hold of the rail with the other—the boat was skimming over the water, bouncing rhythmically. I couldn’t believe what he’d just said. He’d taken me against my will. He knew I’d wanted to get back to the airport today. Did he really want to see me lose it with him? “So you’ve just gone and bloody kidnapped me?”
He turned to me again and shoved his glasses to the top of his head in that cute way I’d noticed he did. He let his gaze settle on my face, then bit on his bottom lip, just a little—so I could see his top teeth—and let his attention slide over my body.
I glanced downward. Damn. I was standing in just my new, white underwear. It was pretty damn sexy with the lace detail and the balcony cups, because when I’d bought it, I’d wanted to look hot for him.
“Jesus, Kay. I’d say it was more like womannapped than kidnapped, wouldn’t you?” He smiled and kept his gaze firmly on my chest.
I pressed a hand over my cleavage. My breasts were wobbling because of the undulations of the boat. “I mean it,” I said. “Take me back now.” I tried to put on my best school ma’am, lecturer’s voice.
He frowned and dropped his shades again. With one quick leap, he was then on the top deck, reaching for a rope and coiling it around a huge metal hook.
The sail began to sag and deflate. The boat slowed but didn’t stop rebounding against the surface of the water.
I watched him work, relieved that he’d listened to me. I needed to get to the airport, not bob around on the Ionian Sea wearing just my underwear with some horny young guy.
Although, damn, he did look good working like that. His muscles were defined and taut, and his skin glowed golden, the sunlight reflecting off his perfect flesh. His swim shorts hung almost dangerously low, and his big hands worked those ropes with skill and precision. He had small, hard bits of skin on his palms. I’d noticed that yesterday when he’d held my hand, and I wondered what they would feel like against my breasts.
‘I’d touch you all over, explore every inch with my fingertips, then gather you up, your breasts, your ass, the backs of your thighs, and hold you tight, make you mine. You’d still be able to feel me touching you, even when I wasn’t anymore.’
I tutted to myself. It was pointless recalling what he’d said he was going to do to me, because he wasn’t, not now.
Even if I was curious about his big, rope-worn hands and what they’d feel like on my body, it wasn’t going to happen.
Thomas’ hands had been soft. He’d always been so gentle with me, too. Never grabbed me, squeezed me, taken me with wild passion against a wall or in an alley. Our lovemaking had always been calm and controlled, mostly in bed, under the duvet.
But Sullivan? He’d told me he sometimes became overwhelmed with passion. That on occasion, he’d just let go—provided his partner had been up for it, of course. I hadn’t pushed the subject. Despite being curious to know more about what his ‘letting go’ had entailed, I hadn’t wanted details of his sex life with other women. Not when all I’d wanted to do was bed him myself.
‘You ever played with ropes, Kay? A bit of bondage? No? Maybe you’d like it. Perhaps you’ll let me tie you to the bed on the boat? It has these handy little rails around the shelving to stop things from sliding off. I’ll blindfold you and have my wicked way with you. I’ll tease you until you squirm and pull against the binds. Then, when I’m ready, I’ll fuck you. Make you scream my name over and over, and we’ll be out at sea. Far out at sea. You won’t be heard, not even when I make you double, triple orgasm and then finally take my pleasure, coming deep, deep inside you as I let go of my control.’
I squeezed my legs together. Just thinking about one of those thick ropes around my wrists while I was being fucked senseless had a pulse tugging at my clit. Was he thinking about that conversation now, like I was? Remembering how I’d gone quiet on the other end of the phone and he’d had to persuade me to talk again? When I had, I’d admitted that he’d turned me on with the suggestion of bondage. It was something that had always lurked in the shadows of my fantasies.
Eventually, the sail was tucked away and the boat slowed almost to a halt.
I blew out a breath and looked at the sparkling surface of the water. Now all he had to do was turn Dolly Bird back to Cephalonia. There’d be no bondage today.
Chapter Six
Sullivan joined me on the back deck of the boat again. He was a little out of breath from the effort of securing the sails, and a dewy layer of sweat had dampened the strands of pale hair in the center of his chest.
“We’re not far from land,” he said, flicking a key that had a bright orange float dangling from a bit of string. “Arkudi is right there.”
A motor rumbled beneath me, and Dolly Bird purred to life. I looked toward the bow. Sure enough, we weren’t as far from land as I’d thought. A great rock with pale cliffs was just ahead.
“Great, do they have an airport?”
He looked steadily at me.
Again I studied my reflection in his shades. My head appeared overly large, my hair wild, and I was squashing my breasts with my palm. I moved my hand, tried to look less prudish, and flattened my hair that was tickling my cheek in the breeze. He seemed so at ease with nature, in control of his body, his strength and his power. It made me feel small and inept in my new environment.
“Baby, I don’t even think they have cars there, let alone an airport.”
“Oh, okay.”
“So we’ll anchor and have brunch. You must be starving.”
“I’d really rather—”
“I know, you’d really rather go home and not be in my company, but basically it’s hot, I’m hungry, and while you’ve been sleeping, I’ve been working my ass off to get the wind in Dolly’s sails and show you some of Greece. The parts of Greece tourists don’t usually get to see.” He steered the boat to the left, aiming for what looked like a small bay.
“I didn’t ask you to do that.” I tutted.
“I know, but it’s nuts to come all this way and not get out to sea at least once. Especially when we have this beautiful boat at our disposal.”
“So after brunch you’ll take me back to Fiscardo? Back to the airport.”
“That depends.” He flashed me a wickedly sure-of-himself smile.
“On what?”
“If you still want to go.”
My frown deepened. “I will.”
“We’ll see.”
I huffed, not wanting him to have the last word but not knowing what else to say. Because I was going to get myself a ticket for home today, of that I was sure.
The boat was slowing further now and the cliffs loomed large. I could make out individual plants clinging to their sides. Small and dry, they had droopy, orange flowers that swayed in the breeze.
I glanced down at the sea. The sun was illuminating the dark depths, and the water was becoming the color of a Ceylon sapphire. We’d carved a frothy trail mapping our journey but here, as we came to a halt and the engine was turned off, the froth softened and faded.
“Take the wheel,” Sullivan said.
“What?” I dragged my attention away from a patch of weeds below the surface that was sparkling golden and dancing on the current.
“The wheel. You hold it while I drop anchor.”
“Here?” I stared around. There was absolutely nothing. No harbor, no pier, no houses. It was just a sm
all sandy beach, cliffs and a few olive trees leading up a steep hill.
“It’s perfect,” he said. “Now hold this. Won’t take me long, hopefully.”
He moved to the right and up onto the side of the boat.
I quickly put my hands over the spot his had been and felt the warmth left behind by his palms. It excited me, that bit of heat. I couldn’t be sure why and that fact annoyed me.
We were hardly moving now, just rocking, but I kept a tight hold of the wheel, not wanting to make a mistake.
Sullivan navigated to the front of the boat. I watched him go, admiring how he moved with ease on the narrow strip around the side.
A loud clanking sound came from the front of Dolly Bird and rattled around the cliffs. He looked over the edge, his hair flopping forward and his back bending so that it showed the outline of his wide shoulder blades.
“Is it down?” I called.
“Yes, just hold her steady and we’ll see if she’s caught.”
The boat was moving to the right, bobbing up and down as it did so.
“If we’ve got a good hold,” he called, “we’ll catch the current but then stop moving once we’re facing into it.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Find a landmark on the cliff right there,” he said, “and see if we stay in alignment with it.”
I did as he’d asked and stared at a spiky brown bush clinging to the cliff face.
It stayed in the same place as the boat swung gently to the right then stopped.
“Still in line?” Sullivan called.
“Yep, still there.”
“Great, that should do us then.” He straightened and came back to the stern.
“Thanks,” he said, stepping down next to me. “Always helps to have someone else when anchoring or docking.”
“Can I let go?”
“Yes, should be fine.” He removed his shades and set them on the small table in front of the wheel. “You coming in?”
“In where?”
“The sea.” He winked, then in one bound, dove off the back of the boat.