Beyond the Horizon

by Bea Paige

  “Like you want to fix me. I can’t be fixed, Connie. I don’t want to be.”

  He sits up, still holding onto my wrist, his fingers gripping tightly over my pounding pulse that thumps beneath them. The sleeping bag falls lower, the silky material slipping over his skin that now seems to be covered in a light sheen of sweat, as though he’s burning up inside as much as I am.

  “You’ve been hurt,” I murmur, my gaze dropping as I absorb all the scars that are scattered across his chest just like my freckles are scattered across mine.

  “You can’t fix me.” He repeats, baring his teeth as though he’s about to bite. His anger makes way for confusion as I smile in the face of it. Somehow I know it isn’t aimed at me, not really. He’s angry at himself for wanting me and how can that make me fearful, sad? It doesn’t, because I want him too.

  “What if I don’t want to fix you? What if I want all your sharp edges and jagged pieces? What if I want you to cut me, mark me, Malakai? What if I need that to feel alive?”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying,” he counters, frowning as I edge closer to him.

  Swallowing hard, I lean in close so that this time it’s me who’s breathing him in, who’s drawing his scent deep into my lungs, allowing it to fill me up. His fingers loosen enough around my wrist so that I can pull my hand free and rest it back on his chest. Beneath my palm his heart thunders, crashing against his chest like a wildebeest’s hooves across the Serengeti grasslands. Maybe I’m crazy, maybe I’m reading this all wrong. Either way, it doesn’t matter because we belong to each other, whether he wants to believe that or not. I just need to push him a little in the right direction.

  “What if I said to you that all I want is one kiss. Just one kiss, Malakai. That’s all I ask,” I whisper against his ear. When he doesn’t respond I pull back and meet his hard gaze with mine.

  “No,” he snaps. “Never. I’ll never kiss you, fuck you, taste you, Connie. No!”

  And yet, despite his words I know he’s lying. Just like the other night, he’s a hairsbreadth from doing just that. Drawing my tongue across my lip, I maintain eye contact, whilst he flinches.

  “You’re not brave enough, is that it?”

  Before the last word falls from my lips, Malakai grunts, pushing upwards and dragging me up with him. His fingers grasp my upper arms as he practically lifts me off my feet, forcing me backwards until my back hits the counter and he’s towering over me. He seems oblivious to the fact that he's naked, that he’s pressed up against me. But I’m not. I’m hyperaware of every part of him pressed against all the aching parts of me.

  “Don’t fucking push me!” He growls, his hand gripping my jaw, the cool metal of his ring cold against my hot, flushed skin as his other hand fists my hair and yanks my head back.

  “Scared of what might happen, Malakai?”

  “I won’t be drawn into your games, Connie. Don’t try and fuck with me. You might get burnt.”

  “I’m already on fire. So go ahead, make me burn…” I taunt him, unable, unwilling to control the lust in my voice. I know he wants me, the hard ridge of his cock pressing against my belly tells me I’m right.

  “You come here, dressed like this to taunt me, didn’t you? You think a pretty little dress is going to make me fuck you, is that it?”

  Yes, I think.

  “You think I’m going to lose control, that I’m going to bend you over this counter and fuck you hard? You think I’m going to bury my cock balls deep in your wet, tight pussy and lose my fucking head? Beauty has no value in the real world, Connie, and it certainly has no value in mine,” he bites out. I must whimper a little because now it’s him who’s smiling with a cruel curl of his lip, but I refuse to let it go.

  “You want me. I can feel how much,” I press back, arching my spine and pushing my hips against his so that his cock rubs against my core that’s slick and needy with want.

  “Just a chemical reaction, nothing more, nothing less,” he growls, his fingers tightening on my jaw as he lowers his mouth to mine and for one hopeful moment I think he’s going to give in, that he’s going to kiss me. Instead, he releases me, stepping back. With one last angry look he strides over to where his clothes are folded on the other side of the room, leaving me gasping at his firm arse, broad shoulders and strong legs. My heart thunders as he pulls on his jeans and t-shirt, not bothering with any underwear, then shoves his feet into his flip-flops and storms out, leaving me breathless and shaken. Air whooshes out of me as I watch him walk away towards the boat shop, wondering if I’ve pushed him too far or, perhaps, not enough.

  Sixteen

  Malakai

  I don’t return to Lola’s Shack until the lunch rush is over. Agreeing to help Connie was a mistake and I refuse to feel guilty for letting her manage the day’s punters on her own. Serves her fucking right. She taunted me on purpose. She wore that pretty little dress and that purple underwear to fuck with my head. But I won’t play her games. She needs to understand that even though I might want her, I will not have her.

  My cock can do one. I don’t care how hard I am, I refuse to go there.

  A long swim in the cold ocean just beyond the harbour wall has helped to cool both my temper and my desire enough so that I can return to The Shack and collect the rest of my things. Last night, Rob called and offered to put me up whilst my boat was getting fixed and even though I’m not good around other people, especially people I’ve only just met, it’s a far better option than sleeping in Lola’s Shack. Besides, I can’t take up the same offer from Grant given I need to keep our connection on the down low. He’s an old acquaintance and like me he wishes to keep his past in the past. I respect that. As far as everyone is concerned we’ve only just met. He’s fixing Princess, and that’s as far as it goes.

  Not only that, I can’t risk Connie finding me asleep again because in that moment between sleep and wakefulness, I’d actually considered pulling her towards me and giving her that kiss she wanted so bad. Thank fuck I hadn’t because that contact would have led to me breaking my promise to Ma Silva and to myself. So, Rob’s it is.

  Feeling calmer from the swim, I make my way over to Lola’s Shack. In the distance the sky suddenly rumbles with portent as storm clouds roll in covering the sun and cooling the humid air to a more bearable level. I love a good summer thunderstorm. There’s nothing quite like watching one move over the ocean, churning up the sea as dark clouds blanket the sky. The brilliant shards of lightning that always tend to accompany such a storm only ever serve to remind me just how fragile we all are.

  “Hey, Malakai, where’ve you been?” Rob says as he steps out of The Shack, stopping me in my tracks with his disappointed glare.

  “I had shit to do,” I retort, refusing to feel guilty.

  “Connie needed your help. She’s been run ragged all day, not to mention…”

  “Not to mention what?”

  “Not to mention the fact that she needs a goddamn bodyguard,” he whisper-shouts under his breath.

  “You what?” I hiss.

  Rob holds his palms up, trying to placate, given I’m about to step into The Shack and rip all the ogling bastards a new one. “I love these guys, and they mean no harm, but she is a very pretty girl who draws a lot of attention to herself without even meaning to. Something I believe you’ve noticed too,” he remarks with a raised brow. “I see how it is…”

  Rob’s voice trails off as I step toward him. Every inch of me is vibrating in anger. “What are you suggesting?”

  “I’m suggesting that Connie could’ve used you being around today. For whatever reason that girl seems to like you.” I don’t miss the knowing look on his face, but I do choose to ignore it.

  “Who do I need to fucking kill?” I growl out, ready to slay an army. Jealousy slams into me, almost taking my breath away. So much for being calm.

  “No one touched her. The whole damn harbour of fishermen might be enamoured with Connie, but they’re good men. I just think she could�
�ve done with having you by her side. Besides, you promised Lola you’d help.”

  I promised a lot of things last night, doesn’t mean to say I can fulfil them all. Grumbling unintelligible words, I push past Rob and head towards the shack.

  “This storm is set to stay for the afternoon and possibly overnight. I’ve told the boys to head off home before it really gets going. Right now, I’m going to check in on Lola. I suggest you lock up within the hour. Looks like it’s going to be a violent one,” Rob remarks, looking up at the darkening sky.

  “Yeah,” I reply, pushing open the door to the shack.

  Inside, Connie’s crouching behind the counter, stacking plates and humming a pretty tune that sounds all too familiar. It’s the song she sang on the dock the other morning, a song that has haunted my every waking moment since. I flinch, trying not to react to the beautiful lilt of her voice and how I’m drawn to her in a way I can’t explain.

  My Little Siren.

  Mine.

  Gritting my teeth, I glare at the few men who are finishing up their breakfasts. “Get off home, storm’s rolling in and we need to close,” I bark out. Out of the corner of my eye I see Connie stand up.

  “So the wanderer returns,” she mutters with an unimpressed snort, continuing to tidy up behind the counter.

  Immediately my back stiffens, and my hands itch to spank her round arse. This girl is pushing my patience, but I take it out on the punters. “I said out!”

  They don’t need to be told a third time. I watch as they throw their money on the table and head out. One of them wink’s at Connie and holds up an extra five-pound note.

  “Your tip, Connie, for the lovely… grub,” he says, staring at her tits so blatantly that I have the sudden urge to pummel his face with my fists. Instead I bare my teeth at him as he passes by. Dickwad.

  “Thanks, Dan,” Connie smiles sweetly, oblivious to his ogling. Though her smile does turn into a self-satisfied smirk when she spots the look on my face. Traversing the counter, she picks up the money left behind. I grab the door, locking it quickly before scrubbing my hand over my face. “Arseholes,” I mutter.

  “Nice of you to turn up, finally,” Connie states, collecting the remaining plates and heading to the sink to wash up. Her tone is doing stupid things to my cock. It jumps and leaps as though wanting to break free from the confines of my jeans.

  “You expected me to stick around after the stunt you pulled earlier?”

  Connie doesn’t respond, she starts washing up the dishes, but her agitation shows as she scrubs the plates vigorously. Her hair is now piled up into a messy bun on top of her head, tendrils falling free from the hair tie, giving me a good look at the curve of her neck and the tops of her shoulders and back. My god, I’ve never wanted to touch anything more in my life.

  This is getting ridiculous. I should go before I do something I can’t take back.

  Overhead the distinct rumble of thunder tells me the storm is closing in. Very soon the ocean will morph from a gentle lapping against the dock to a wild crashing of waves that will batter everything within ten meters, including this shack.

  “Leave that. You need to get back home before the storm hits. It’s going to be a rough few hours and you don’t want to get stuck here,” I say, moving closer because Connie doesn’t appear to be listening to a word I’m saying. “Connie, are you listening?”

  When I reach her side, she pulls the plug in the sink then dries her hands on the towel. “Yes, I heard you,” she says, looking up at me, her features impassive now.

  “Good.” I swallow hard, restraining myself from touching her. The fire that burned within her earlier has disappeared, leaving just a smoulder. Yet, somehow, it’s more powerful than the burning flames of her lust.

  “I’m just going to call Grandma and check in on Lola.” She turns away from me, and I try not to look at the sway of her hips as she moves. “I folded up your sleeping bag and put it with the rest of your stuff in the office,” she says, pointing to the small space off to the side of the kitchen.

  “Thanks,” I mutter, straightening up a few chairs as she speaks with Ma Silva. I hear Connie reassuring her grandmother that she’s heading off home within the next ten minutes and that she will call as soon as she’s in. I establish from the conversation that Lola is feeling a little better, though her fever has yet to break.

  “I need to thank your Gran for looking after Lola,” I say, when she ends the call.

  “Sure,” she retorts, gathering her bag. She searches for the keys, pulling them free when she finds them.

  “I mean, not just for tonight. For the past year. I owe her.”

  “You can tell Grandma yourself because sleeping here tonight isn’t an option.”

  “I’m staying with Rob. He’s putting me up,” I immediately respond.

  “I see.” Connie grabs her things and heads outside just as the first spots of rain begin to fall. “I’m walking back home. You can walk with me if you want, Rob’s place is a mile or so on from ours.”

  “That probably isn’t wise…” I begin.

  “I promise not to touch you,” she says softly, her cheeks heating. A crack of lightning splits the sky in two and Connie jumps. “Shit.”

  “You don’t like storms?” I ask, noticing her tremble.

  “I love storms. I just prefer to be inside when one is taking place…” Her gaze lifts to the sky and she frowns, biting on her lower lip with worry.

  “Let’s go then.”

  Connie locks the door just as more thunder rumbles and another flash of lightning cracks overhead. The sky has fallen so dark that it feels like it’s long past nine pm rather than a few minutes after three in the afternoon. With the next roll of thunder, the heavens open up and a sheet of rain falls, drenching us both in seconds.

  “Fuck!” I exclaim. “I need to get you home.”

  “I have my bike…” Connie says, as she unlocks it with shaking hands. The rain is cold, the temperature falling rapidly. “It will be quicker if I cycle home.”

  “Not in this weather you won’t.”

  “Then I’ll walk it back.”

  The sky cracks again, and the waves begin to rise higher, crashing against the harbour wall. It's getting rough, and fast. Making a decision, I turn my attention back to Connie.

  “I’ll cycle. Get on the handlebars,” I order, taking the bike from her.

  “You want me to sit on the handlebars?” she asks, frowning. The rain plasters her hair to her

  head, and she has to swipe her hand over the rivulets of rain to get a good look at me.

  “That’s what I said.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Never more so…”

  “I’d rather walk.”

  “Get on the damn handlebars, Connie.”

  She laughs, almost shrilly now. “You love to blow hot and cold, don’t you, Malakai. I thought you didn’t want to be anywhere near me. You’ve spent the whole day avoiding me and now you want me to get close to you. Your three hundred and sixty-degree turns are making my head spin.”

  She’s not the only one who’s head is fucking spinning, but I refuse to tell her that. Instead, I lift my leg over the bike, ignoring her sass. “Get on, Connie, or I will leave your damn bike here and carry you over my fucking shoulder the whole way. It’s up to you.”

  Challenge flares in her eyes and for a moment she hesitates long enough to convince me that she’s actually considering that as an option. I swear my heart stops fucking beating, but I hold her gaze regardless. There’s no way I’m going to let her know how much the thought of throwing her over my shoulder turns me on.

  “Fine,” she finally snaps, lifting herself onto the handlebars awkwardly and holding her legs out in front of her. I can’t help but notice how the cotton of her dress sticks to her thighs and the purple of her knickers shows through the material. A stream of swear words reel off inside my head but I don’t voice them.

  “Ready?” I ask her.

>   “Yes,” she responds, letting out a surprised gasp as I kick off the ground. The sudden movement makes her slide backwards on the handlebars until her upper back is pressed against my chest and shoulders. I keep my eyes fixed on the road ahead and definitely do not breathe in her scent like it’s the oxygen I need to survive.

  Twenty torturous minutes later I pull up outside her house. We are both wet to the bone, our clothes sticking to us. Her jaw is chattering with the cold and I can barely unfurl my fingers from the handlebars when she slides off awkwardly and turns to face me.

  “Come in,” she shouts over the rumble overhead. The rain is sideways now and it’s as though the whole island has been pitched into semi-darkness. I can’t see any lights on for miles.

  “No.”

  I turn away down the path but when a lightning bolt rips through the air not more than a hundred feet away, splitting a small apple tree practically in half and scorching the bark, I change my mind. Thank God it’s raining so heavily, otherwise that tree would be alight in seconds.

  “Leave the bike! Get in, Malakai!” Connie yells at me from the doorway.

  Despite every instinct telling me to run, that I’d be in less danger outside in the storm, I lean the bike against the wall and head inside. She reaches for the light switch, but after flicking it up and down several times, it’s clear the power’s out. Connie groans.

  “That’s all we need.”

  “Let me check your fuse box. Is it under the stairs?” I ask her, closing the front door and sweeping past her in one movement.

  “Yes,” she responds, turning on the flashlight on her mobile phone so we can both see a little clearer. Connie holds up the light, aiming it over my shoulder as I check the fuses.

  “The problem isn’t here. Must be a power outage on the island. Got any candles, matches?” I ask as she moves backwards, giving me space to get by her.

  “In the kitchen. Under the sink.”

  I nod my head, ignoring the fact that she’s trembling and looking at me with wide eyes. Gone is the siren of earlier today. Instead, it’s a girl who looks like she’s bitten off more than she can chew. This is what she wanted, me and her in close confines, only now it seems like she’s afraid of what’s going to happen. Not that anything will because I’m not fucking touching her.