Anchored_Book One of The Crashing Tides Duet

by Ruby Rowe

  Sailor

  Elliott covers my body with his, and I suck in a breath from the weight of him and the shock of how quickly things changed.

  Every emotion is swimming in his hungry gaze. There is surprise, hurt, frustration and shame, but it’s being overshadowed by an unexplainable intensity and lust.

  “Tell me I can kiss you,” he murmurs.

  “I can’t.” Gripping the cushion below me, I look at his lips.

  “But you want me to.”

  “What I want and what’s best for me are two different things. Please get off me.”

  Sighing, Elliott climbs off the couch and walks away. I hear the door to the terrace open and close, so I get up, too, and run to my room. Shutting my door, I grab my penguin off the dresser and get under my blankets.

  I’m angry with myself for opening up to Elliott. He knew I loved him back then, but I shouldn’t have reminded him tonight. I’ve held my feelings in for so long, and now that I’m facing my past, they want to be set free.

  If he only knew there was more to our story, maybe then he’d understand why this is so difficult for me, but I can’t find the strength or words to tell him.

  As I weep, I touch the anchor pendant on my penguin. I think back to the night of the wreck and all that I heard Elliott say to my sister by the side of the road.

  He kept telling her he was sorry, and I’m sure it was because they’d been fighting. I didn’t hear enough of their argument to know what they were fighting about, but he was furious with her. He told me later that she shattered his heart.

  I recall the conversation I overheard. She was apologizing and said she made one mistake. He said something about how there had been more.

  Thatcher Davenport… Jake is Thatcher’s cousin, and he would hang out at the Davenports’ country home during the summers. I remember seeing him.

  Holy shit. Is that the night Elliott found out he slept with Rebecca? The thought that Jake could have played a role in the events leading up to the accident only strengthens my cries.

  Swiping my phone off the nightstand, I pull up Carrie’s name to text her.

  Me: Everything’s already falling apart. I’m so freaked out.

  Carrie: Give me your address.

  Me: Don’t come here.

  Carrie: I’ll need it when I move.

  I send her the address, but as soon as I do, I regret it. I want her here, but it’s selfish.

  Me: I shouldn’t have sent it. Spend the rest of your time left in Boston with your family.

  Carrie: You are my family. I’m here if you need to talk.

  Me: I know, and I thought I could, but I’m too upset right now. I’ll talk to you soon.

  I lay my phone on the nightstand and curl back into my ball of protection.

  “Sailor,” Elliott says after opening my door. Hearing my name, I bawl again. Elliott equals heartache and loss, and he has no idea how much so.

  Climbing behind me in bed, he wraps an arm around my waist and brings me back toward him to spoon. He strokes my hair and whispers, “The memories of that night came rushing back while we were watching the movie. It happens sometimes, but it’s been worse since you got here.”

  “Don’t you see? It is worse, and it’s not good for either of us. I don’t belong here.”

  “That was my first thought when I saw you standing in my house, but not now. I want us to find a way to forget the past and start over.”

  I squeeze the penguin tighter. “Forgetting is impossible. There is something from the past I can never let go of.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Sailor

  Ten Years Earlier

  My phone dings next to my pillow with a text message, so I jump. I didn’t realize I left it there after texting with a friend before I went to bed. I flip my phone open, and the screen lights up, displaying 11:30 p.m. at the top.

  Elliott: I’m on your balcony. Can I come in?

  I jerk my head back to see my French doors that lead to the balcony off my bedroom. It overlooks the ocean in Southampton, and he had to have climbed up the side of it. What the hell is he doing here?

  Shit, it’s pouring down rain. After turning on my side table lamp, I flip my blanket and sheet back to get up. I hurry and open the door, and he steps inside.

  Water’s dripping from his blond hair onto his face, and his shirt is soaked, too. His black khaki shorts are wet, but not as much as the top half of him.

  “What are you doing here?” I whisper.

  “I had to see you.” He stumbles forward before stepping back and leaning against my closed door. After dragging his hands down his face to wipe away the rain, he stares at me, and I notice his grey eyes are surrounded by a tinge of crimson.

  “Have you been drinking? God, tell me you weren’t driving.”

  “I had some beers, but I’d never dri–drink and drive again. I wouldn’t do that to you.” His frown and sad eyes makes me feel bad for suspecting it. “Thomas dropped me off.”

  He glances down at my attire. Shit. I’m in a thin light blue tank top and silky navy pajama shorts, so I cover my chest.

  “I had to see you,” he whispers. Worried my parents could come in, I pad to my door and lock it, and when I turn around, Elliott’s taking off his soaked t-shirt. Holy shit, he’s bare-chested and in my room late at night.

  Biting my lip, I hurry to my bathroom and get a towel from the linen closet. I take it back to him, and he rubs it over his blond hair. It’s now an attractive mess, standing up in just the right number of places.

  From being wet, his shorts are hanging low on his hips, his black boxer briefs peeking out at the top, and I watch as he dries his torso off next.

  Tossing the towel on a chair in the corner, he gazes at me again, and uncertain of what to do, I sit on the side of my bed near my pillow. He pulls off his tennis shoes and socks, stumbling several times, before he walks over to sit next to me.

  My white fluffy rug is beneath our bare feet, and I’m staring at it, wondering how we ended up in the same place twice in one day but with fewer clothes on this time.

  Without a shred of warning, Elliott starts crying. He covers his face with his hands, so I wrap my arm around his back to quiet him. He can’t wake up my parents.

  “What happened since you left after the funeral?”

  “I can’t tell you, but I had to see you one last time.” He palms his eyes, wiping away his tears. “I can’t take this fucking guilt. You never should’ve told them you were driving.”

  “Yes, I should have. You can go to college now and get away from your abusive dad. I’ll graduate in a few years and go to Harvard. It’s all going to work out. Look at me.”

  Clearing his throat, Elliott turns his head and waits for me to speak again, and I get choked up, too. “Rebecca’s not coming back regardless of who we say was driving. It’s done. Do your best at school, and don’t forget me.”

  “I could never forget you and what you did for me.” He slides a hand in my dark hair and brings my head closer to his. Our mouths are only a few inches apart, and my lungs feel as if they’ve collapsed and are unable to breathe in air.

  “Even after the way your sister hurt me, I miss her. I love her, Sailor, I do, but I think … I mean, after what you did for me and the way you’ve always treated me … I love you, too.”

  I shake my head. “You’ve been drinking, and you’re sad. You don’t mean that.”

  “I do mean it, and maybe I’m the worst person on the fucking planet for feeling this way, especially on the day we buried Rebecca, but I know in my heart you wouldn’t have treated me like she did. So many times, I wished that you were the older sister.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “I’m a selfish asshole. I know it. I’ve taken enough from you already, but I can’t live with never knowing what it feels like to kiss you. I need something to replace the bad. The pain is fucking killing me.”

  Elliott squeezes his eyes shut, and leaning his forehead agai
nst mine, he cries again, his body shaking from his agony. I can’t take it. I want to forget, too. I want to put a lid on the unbearable grief, even if only for minutes that I’m sure I’ll regret later.

  I press my lips to Elliott’s once and fast. His cries stop, and he pulls back enough to see my face. The heartache swimming amongst his tears is more than I can handle, so I weep, too, my tears tipping over the edge.

  They tumble down my cheeks, leaving my grief behind since there could never be enough tears to carry it all away. A good cry can’t fix this tragedy.

  The events of the last few days crumble the last of my strength, and I close my eyes, wondering if I’m having a torturous dream, but Elliott’s warm lips land on mine, and as his tongue forces its way into my mouth, I realize nothing could be more real.

  Lifting my legs, he turns my body to straighten me out on my bed before he climbs on top of me, the weight of him heavy.

  Elliott’s over a foot taller than me, my tiny frame squished beneath him, and I feel safe and terrified all at the same time.

  He engulfs my mouth, the corner creases stinging from how forceful he is. I slide my arms around his back to touch his skin and muscles, and I’m feeling other things, too: tingling sensations anywhere and everywhere, along with a throbbing between my legs that’s new and exciting.

  I’ve been kissed by other boys, but nothing more, and this is so much more. I pull away as all the pleasure overwhelms me.

  Standing from the bed, Elliott removes his shorts and underwear, and I want to cover my face from embarrassment, but at the same time I want to look at him.

  He’s naked and magnificent, standing before me, and is he seriously thinking of putting that huge thing inside me? He grabs hold of my pajama shorts and panties and drags them down my legs, so I think that’s a yes.

  Sucking in a few fast breaths, I feel a chill before bumps rise to the surface of my arms and legs. Elliott plants a kiss on my belly before he tugs on my tank top and pulls it over my head.

  I struggle to breathe through the excitement and fear as I think about how I’m naked now, too, except for the anchor necklace he gave me earlier today.

  “Tell me to stop, Sailor Girl. Tell me to fucking leave.”

  I should. I should tell him to go and never come back. We’re both terrible people, but I want him to touch me.

  I love him.

  “No … stay,” I whisper.

  “I’m going to hell for this, but after the wreck, that was already the case.” He straightens the pillow behind my head before he blankets me with his weight and warmth, and as he uses his hips to open my legs and move between them, I gasp.

  “You’ve at least been touched before, right?”

  I shake my head, and he mutters, “Fuck,” before he lowers his head, hiding his face against my chest, holding his weight on his forearms. Reaching up, I run my fingers through his hair.

  “I promise that it’s OK. I want it to be you. I love you, too.”

  He kisses me again, softly this time, and I relax a little, having the time to think about what it’s like to taste his tongue and mouth and to smell his scent of soap and rain.

  Scooting his body down, he takes one of my nipples into his mouth and sucks on it. It seems wrong and dirty, but it feels so good, and I don’t want him to stop. I whimper from how it makes me feel pleasure somewhere else, too.

  He reaches between us, and my trembling turns to shaking when he pushes his fingers inside me. Tensing, I squeeze my muscles around them, and he groans.

  “You’re so fucking tight and perfect,” he mumbles against my breast. “My Sailor Girl, forbidden and innocent.”

  He slides his fingers in and out of me, and the more he does it, the less it hurts. Removing them, he moves his body upward, and I feel his hardness right there, ready to go inside me.

  “I don’t have a condom, so I’ll have to pull out. This is gonna hurt.”

  Feeling him draw his hips back, I squeeze his biceps, preparing for the worst, and as he thrusts inside me, it does hurt. He wasn’t fast, but he wasn’t slow, either, and he did it in one move.

  I sling my head back and fight to breathe through the stinging sensations. My body feels weird having him inside it, like he doesn’t belong there.

  But after he moves a few times, it starts to feel different. Better… He leaves kisses on my mouth, neck and chest, but then he grips my pillow and moves faster, causing the sting to return.

  Caught up in the pleasure, he presses his head next to mine. I want to relax, to see if I could feel that good, too, but it still hurts, and all I can think about is how I’ve dreamed of this before, certain it could never happen, but it is happening. Elliott’s in my bed, having sex with me.

  I slide my hands over his back and hug him, but he raises up some and removes his dick. Something hot lands on my stomach as he groans.

  Realizing what’s happening, I’m embarrassed, and I’m glad it’s not lighter in the room to see. He climbs off the bed and grabs the towel from the chair. He cleans up my stomach and a little between my legs. God, make this part stop.

  I figure we’re done, so I’m surprised when he gets back in bed and starts touching my breasts. He plays with my nipples, sucking them next, and I whimper while gripping the sheet beneath me.

  He skirts his fingers down my stomach, but instead of putting them inside me, he rubs me in this spot that feels so freaking good.

  “I promise sex will feel better after a few times.” He keeps rubbing the same blissful place, the pleasure climbing and climbing. It’s unexplainable and magical, and in no time, I’m convulsing, splintering apart against his touch.

  Pleasure shoots across my body, tingly and intense, and I don’t want it to stop, but I feel like I’ll die if it doesn’t.

  “You’re so beautiful.” Kissing my cheek, he whispers in my ear, “I love that I’ll forever be the first to do that to you, and a part of you will forever be mine.”

  Rolling over to face him, I stare at his eyes that are gazing at mine. We stay like this, and I watch as he struggles to hold his eyelids open.

  Now that I’m not distracted by sex, I smell the alcohol on his breath, and I can’t help but wonder if this is something he’ll regret, yet another reason for him to feel guilty.

  I’ll remind him I wanted it, too. I’ll talk to him while he’s at college and go visit him. I’ll make sure he sees that the decisions I made aren’t ruining my life, so there’s no reason for him to torture himself.

  We’ll be closer now, and it will help us both heal. No one ever has to know about this.

  Shooting up in bed, I take choppy breaths and look around only to discover Elliott’s not in my bed … again. How ironic. A part of me is disappointed he left at some point in the night, and another part is relieved.

  Falling back, I stare out the window, hoping the sunshine and new day will help me forget the dream that always brings forth heartache. That night was twistedly splendid, but once I woke up the next morning without him, it was a torturous memory.

  I wonder what this new day will hold. Realizing the humor in that, I shake my head. Before I met Jake, I knew what I would do each day. Normally, I’m thorough in my decision-making process, considering every possible outcome.

  I’m still living with the consequences of making rash decisions as a teenager, so throwing caution to the wind isn’t like me. I need to gain back control, and the first step is to make some plans.

  I think I’ll soak in the hot tub, like I was going to do yesterday, have breakfast and then go shopping. I didn’t buy nearly enough clothes when I went the first time, so I think retail therapy is what I need.

  I pin my long hair up in a twist, and after putting on my white and black, polka dot two-piece I bought, I crack the door open and see that Elliott’s is shut.

  Maybe he went to work. I know he stays at the hospital a few days at a time, which is common during residency.

  I pad down the hallway, but as soon as I reach his
door and hear a woman’s voice, I freeze. Wait … that’s not a woman. I mean, not a real woman.

  “Alexa, tell me a positive affirmation,” Elliott commands his Amazon device.

  “You are one of mind, body and spirit.”

  “That totally sucked. You should tell me something like I’m confident, courageous and get shit done. OK, Alexa, tell me a doctor joke.”

  “Why wouldn’t the doctor help the old lady cross the road?”

  “I don’t know. Why?”

  “Because it was his job not to let her go to the other side.”

  Elliott laughs. “Clever, but I’d work on your tone of voice.” Covering my mouth, I snicker. He talks to Alexa, and he laughs. I’m shocked by both.

  I continue past his door and down the steps to the hot tub. It’s a cool morning, but since the sun’s up and the water’s warm, it’s the ideal time to soak.

  Opening a metal, locker-style cabinet on the terrace, I pull out a towel and lay it at the edge of the tub before I drag off the heavy cover and turn on the jets.

  It’s soon ready to go, so I gradually sink my body into it and sigh. This is relaxing, and I need one of my own. I’ll have to tell Brad to add it as a feature for my new place.

  I may be a tad partial, considering how fantastic Jake made me feel in this one. Remembering the passionate encounter, I lean my head back and close my eyes to revisit it.

  “You better hope I find her since her car is here,” Carrie says. I whip my head up and open my eyes. She and Elliott come to a stop and stare at me.

  My best friend’s wearing a relieved expression, and Elliott’s wearing only a pair of navy athletic shorts, looking fine as usual.

  “There you are,” she says as she pushes back her sunglasses to rest on top of her short brown hair.

  “What are you doing here? I told you not to come.”

  Turning around to face Elliott, she puts her hands on her hips. “Can you give us a minute alone? But don’t go far; I want a word with you.”

  He looks at me, and I nod that it’s fine.

  “Sure,” he grumbles. “It’s not my house or anything.”