“Or maybe she had life all figured out.” I’ve known too many men who lost their lives too soon. Who lost their chance of living by their own rules and enlisted and risked it all to fight for the freedom of others. No chance of once in a lifetime opportunities because of one pivotal moment, one split-second decision, and their chance at lifetime was taken from them.
“Because life is beautiful and terrifying,” she whispers. “And we deserve to feel it down to our bones.”
“Yeah, maybe.” I study the horizon, poring over her words and being calmed by the gentle swell of the ocean when the pole between her knees arches, suddenly followed by the whirr of the line. “Fish on!”
“What do I do?” She squeals and reaches for the pole with both hands.
I race up behind her and grip the reel, locking it down. “Hang on tight! We’re gonna reel this bitch in together, got it?”
“Got it.” Her hands are shaking.
The delicate scent of her skin mixed with coconut sunscreen assaults my senses. I lean in so that my lips nearly touch the shell of her ear. “Deep breath, Cece.”
She gulps the air, then blows it out and I can’t help the satisfied smile that pulls my lips.
It takes almost an hour before the fish tires and I’m able to reel it in. My muscles are soft from exertion and my shirt soaked with sweat.
“What is it?”
Pulling the tired fish to the side, I grab the line and peek over the railing. “’Bout an eighty-pound yellowfin.”
She pushes up next to me. “No way! You caught that?” The excitement in her voice is contagious, there’s just something euphoric about reeling in big fish.
“You baited, so . . .” I hook it by the gills and heave it up and on the boat. Blood spills onto the deck. “Guess we both did.”
She covers her mouth with her hand. “Aren’t we going to throw him back?”
“Throw him back, are you kidding? This is dinner, freckles.”
Her jaw falls open, and those lips taunt me.
“Feel like lunch on the fly bridge?”
“The what?”
I point up top to my favorite spot on the boat.
Her gaze follows my line of site. “Sure. What’s for lunch?”
I wipe the sweat off my forehead and grin. “Sushi.”
SAWYER
Oh no, fuck no!
I thought he was kidding. I should’ve known better. Aden’s intentions with me since I stupidly boarded this boat have been my torment for his enjoyment. He loved watching me squirm over the bait tank and when I proved I wouldn’t shy away from a challenge, he pulled out the big guns. From his flirty smiles to his teasing touches, he’s discovered my weaknesses and is exploiting them for his own entertainment.
Now this? Raw fish probably still warm from fighting for its life.
And now I’m God knows how many feet above water sitting on a two-seater bench held up by rusty ladders and staring down a piece of glistening pink meat.
“You have to eat it, it’s a rite of passage.” He offers the meat to my lips and I quickly turn my face away.
“I’m really not hungry.” As if the idea isn’t enough to turn my stomach, watching him clean the fish before sectioning off enough for lunch wasn’t much of an appetite builder.
“Of course you are.” He brings the piece to his own mouth and takes a bite, closing his eyes with a moan as he chews.
I feel a rush of bile hit my throat, or maybe it’s beer, either way it’s warm and it burns. “That’s disgusting.”
“You’re telling me you don’t like sushi?”
My eyes widen. Sawyer would say she’s never had sushi. But Celia’s a different story. She ate a live cricket in the eighth grade on a dare. She didn’t even flinch. “I like sushi, just not directly from the . . . um . . . source.”
“Doesn’t get fresher than this.” He takes another bite and I can’t deny that his response to eating it does give it some appeal.
“I think I need soy sauce or that green stuff.” What’s it called?
“Just try it.”
“I really don’t want to.”
“Oh come on.” He smiles in that cute crooked way that makes my heart dip and dive. “Live a little.”
I chew the inside of my mouth debating the cost/benefit of taking a bite of this fresh-out-of-the-ocean fish. On one hand, I’ll impress Aden. That in and of itself is worth the ick factor. But what if I throw up all over his boat? Is the chance of impressing him worth totally humiliating myself? I groan when I realize what I’m doing, exactly what I swore I wouldn’t do. I’m making an internal pros and cons list. I close my eyes and steel my resolve and my spine. Don’t think, just decide. I pop open my eyes followed by my mouth.
“Yeah?” He stares at my parted lips.
I nod, hoping he’ll hurry before I change my mind.
Lifting the rose-colored flesh forward, he places it between my teeth. It’s a small bite so I close my lips around his fingers expecting him to pull away . . . but he doesn’t. For a moment I’m suspended in his gaze, totally stuck while his hot fingers rest between my lips. This should be grossing me out; after all, I watched him gut this fish with his bare hands and to wash off all the blood he merely dipped them into the ocean. But all the thoughts of raw fish and a stranger’s finger do nothing to stave off the warmth blooming in my belly. My tongue pulls the meat deeper into my mouth, brushing against the rough pad of his forefinger. He bites his lip but finally drops his hand.
He watches intently while I chew and swallow.
“How was it?” His voice is low and gruff.
Lost in the heated moment, I barely tasted it. “Good.”
His hand cups the back of my head and he pulls me toward him, stopping just short of our lips touching. “I can’t fucking take this anymore.” His breath is sawing in and out, bursting against my mouth with impatience. “Let me.” It’s a demand, not a question.
A kiss. I don’t need to channel Celia or flip a coin . . . I know what I want.
I lick my lips and close the slight distance between us.
The moment our mouths come together a fire like I’ve never felt before bursts through me. He presses against my neck, tilting my head and probing my lips open with his tongue. I gasp as the heat of his mouth invades mine and he takes full advantage. My eyes slide shut on a long moan as his attention pulls at something deep inside me. His other hand comes up to cup my jaw and the touch is so innocent yet conveys a feeling of being cherished. Protected. Like I’m something valuable and breakable.
He sips from my mouth while taking time to lavish each of my lips in sensations. Alternating between gentle tugs from his teeth and soothing suction as if my mouth is his favorite playground. My hips tingle, my thighs tremble, and I ache in places I never knew it possible to ache in. He slows the kiss, and I chase down his lips, not ready to give them up. He chuckles but indulges me, kissing me so deep my body seems to liquefy. This time when he pulls back and I go after him again, he presses his thumb against my chin and nips at the corner of my mouth.
“I’m sorry, Celia. I can’t.”
Hearing him call me by my sister’s name does the work of a cold shower. Reality crashes down all around me and shame at what I’ve done fills my chest. How could I lose all control so easily?
I scoot as far back as I can on the love-seat-sized bench in the sky to reestablish a safe distance between us.
“Shit. Don’t do that.” He runs a rough hand through his hair and I turn to hide my quickly heating face.
“Do what?”
“Don’t act like I’m rejecting you.”
That gets my attention and I brave a peek only to find him staring at me looking as close to regretful as I’ve ever seen him. “But you are.”
Stop it right now, Sawyer. Cut this off right here. Whatever I’ve been feeling since I met Aden is nothing more than the backlash of being Celia. This isn’t me, it’s nothing like me. I don’t kiss men I hardly know.
&nb
sp; His beautiful face twists in a grimace. “I guess it would seem that way, but it’s not.” He scoots closer to me so that our thighs are touching and when he leans in I’m grateful the sunglasses are blocking the shock my eyes would surely give away. “If you were any other woman . . .” He blows out a breath. “The things I would do to you.”
My entire body warms and I resist the urge to rip the hat from my head and use it as a fan.
“But you’re not. You’re Celia Forrester.”
His words douse the raging fire in my belly.
“Uncle Cal thinks the world of you.” He laughs, but only barely. “Pretty sure he’d disapprove of me fuckin’ his favorite girl.”
Fucking.
Right, because we’re virtual strangers.
No, he thinks I’m Celia Forrester, which means we’re literal strangers.
My skin practically crawls when I realize how close I came to doing something I’d surely regret. A one-night stand with a handsome man I hardly know. “You’re right. I’m not the type to sleep around—”
He lifts an accusing eyebrow, but it’s more of a gentle tease than an accusation.
“Okay, maybe I was once the type, but I’m not anymore.”
“No?” He readjusts to put some space between us. “You one of those born-again virgins?”
“Not exactly, but let’s just say casual sex has lost its appeal.”
He flashes me a playfully confused smile. “Is that English you’re speakin’?”
I laugh and just like that we’re back to comfortable conversation.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Damn straight I wouldn’t.” That beautiful crooked grin shines in the sun. “We better get back to fishing. Here.” He reaches into a small cooler I thought was only filled with beer and hands me a wrapped-up sub sandwich. “I’m assuming you’re no longer a vegetarian?”
My cheeks warm beneath his gaze. “It would seem that way.”
He chuckles. “I hope you like roast beef.”
I take the sandwich from him, smiling. “You had this the whole time?”
“Of course.” He pushes up to stand. “Man can’t live on raw fish alone.” He eyes me in a way that ignites my blood again, as if he could live off me if I were on the menu. Which he’s made very clear I am not. And I agree. “Fishing.”
“Yeah.” It’s agreement with a hint of disappointment, because I won’t lie to myself. I want Aden, in more ways than my imagination can even conjure. And what’s the harm really? People have summer flings all the time. In a week or so I’ll be gone and he’ll never know who I really am.
SEVEN
ADEN
The sun is setting by the time we get the boat back to the dock. It’s a mostly quiet ride except for the times I point out something I think Celia might find interesting—the lighthouse on Point Loma, Navy ships docked on Coronado Island, and the clusters of sunbathing sea lions on buoys.
The seagulls soar over our heads, their eyes downcast in search of fish scraps they can scavenge as they squawk every sailor’s welcoming song.
“Who’s Nancy?”
Celia’s no longer wearing the sunglasses, but the hat is still on, which is surprising with all that unruly hair fighting to get free from beneath it. “My aunt. Uncle Cal’s wife, he never talked about her?”
“Of course he did.” She adjusts the straps on her life vest. “I just . . . the boat is named after her, right?”
“Aunt Nancy is a good Catholic girl. She hated the name Nauti Nancy. They’d always fight about it.”
Her lips tip up warmly. “I can see why.”
“I’m surprised Cal didn’t tell you that story.” I head north toward the marina.
She dips her chin, but only slightly. “Yeah . . . maybe he did and I just didn’t remember.”
I steer the boat slowly through the inlet. “You mind throwing those bumpers over?” I motion to them and she hops up to play deckhand while I back into the slip and cut the engine. “Toss me the rope.” I jump over the railing to the dock. She tosses me one tie-up rope and I secure it to the cleat before following through with the others.
Not gonna lie, having a deckhand was helpful. Usually it’s Jenkins and he can’t really do more than sit with a fishing pole in one hand and a drink in the other.
When I come back on board she’s moving around the deck putting things away.
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll get it.”
She ignores me and continues wiping everything down with a dirty rag. “No, it’s fine.”
I grab her forearm and her eyes come to mine. It must be because of the contrast against her sun-kissed cheeks, but her eyes appear even greener than they did this morning. “Stop. You’re sunburned, you should go shower and put some aloe on. I got this.”
She twists to see her shoulder. “Oh, yeah. That’s a good idea.”
Against my own will I release her and stand back to keep from pulling her in to my chest.
And what the hell is that all about, anyway?
A drunken kiss that leads to sex and an awkward goodbye is what I’m best at. But what happened today with Celia was totally unplanned. I knew going in for the kiss was risky, and I expected her to shoot me down. What I never expected was voracity. If she were anyone else I would’ve dragged her down to my cabin and taken her on every available surface. It took all my military training, every ounce of learned control and counter-interrogation strategies to peel myself off of her. And even though I know it was the right thing to do I’ve regretted it ever since.
She bends and fumbles to untie her skirt.
“I got it.” Anything to put my hands on you. I drop to a squat and just like before I’m tempted to lift the skirt like some horny teenager hoping for a panty shot. I wonder if they’re conservative white cotton, or if Celia has an inner sex goddess and they’re red lace. Either one would be a fantasy in the making.
I force myself to be a gentleman and untie the fabric, watching it fall to cover what little of her skin she was showing. “There.” I stand and her chin tilts to meet my eyes.
“Thanks.” She flashes a bashful smile.
“I have to say . . . your deckhand skills were impressive.” I lean back against the railing. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”
She pulls off the hat I gave her, tossing all that wild hair around her face, and hands it to me.
I take it from her and resist the urge to press it to my nose to see if it smells like her shampoo.
A few beats of silence stretch between us until she blows out a long breath and dips her chin. “Right, well . . . I better go.”
She grabs her purse from inside the cabin and runs her fingers through her hair in an attempt to smooth it down as she heads to the back of the boat to disembark.
An impulse to call out to her pushes at my chest, an urgency to keep her close.
You use women as a distraction, a hobby to fill your mind so you don’t have to think about what happened in the valley.
The shrink’s words tumble through my head.
Celia is most definitely a distraction. I may have instigated the kiss and there’s absolutely a desire for more, but I’m not chasing after her as a means to run away from my problems.
And Cal wouldn’t appreciate me using his friend as amusement for my dick. No, that’s not what this is. I actually enjoyed myself today. The view was a lot better with Celia around, and we had some good laughs, she didn’t seem at all uncomfortable when the conversation died and we’d sit for long stretches of silence.
“Aden?” She’s on the dock gazing up at me. “Thank you for today. That was a lot more fun than packing would’ve been.”
That’s right. She’s moving. “You’re welcome.”
Well, fuck . . . any time I’m going to get to spend with her is going to have to happen before she leaves to . . . where is she moving?
“Is there a number I can reach you, ya know, if I have any questions?” She’s rocking back and forth, s
hifting her weight from one foot to the other, and I notice she’s rolling a silver coin between her fingers.
I hop over the railing and she jumps when I land just a few feet from her. I hold out my hand. “Phone.”
She nods and fishes the device from her purse. I add my cell, my chest feeling warm at the idea of her using it.
“There.” I hand it back and she shoves it in her bag.
“Great, so . . .” She looks up at me with those eyes and those fucking lips. “I guess I’ll see you around.”
Limited time.
Cal’s gonna kill me.
Fuck it.
I hook her around the back of the neck and pull her to me. She stumbles and places both palms against my chest. Her touch feels amazing. “I want to kiss you again, you good with that?”
“But I thought—”
“Just a kiss.” It’s risky, but I have to try, because the alternative is nothing at all and I don’t think I could stand knowing Celia is in the same town as me and I can’t put my lips on hers.
Her breath hitches, and damn, the sound is an injection of pure lust. “Yes.”
“Good.” I brush my thumb along her jaw and my eyes are drawn to her tongue as it swipes her lower lip. I groan and every part of me wants to get closer. “And what about tomorrow?”
“You want to kiss me tomorrow?” Her pulse beats a rapid rhythm against my palm.
“If I did, would you let me?” I stare at her lips and prepare to suck them between mine when she nods.
Thank fuck!
Pulling up to bring her mouth close, she’s forced to her tiptoes and I smile seconds before I press my lips to hers. Damn, but her mouth is like falling onto the softest pillows after a lifetime of resting on concrete. I lick my way inside and close my eyes when our tongues slide together. My body throbs for her. My fingers fork into her hair and it’s so damn soft and smells like strawberries, I could literally eat this woman alive.
But I won’t.
I have the willpower of a seasoned soldier; surely I can resist every urge to possess the woman in my arms.
It’s just a kiss.
Even as my defense blares in my head so does the truth.
Wrecked Page 9
