Swept Away 2 (8 page)

Chapter Sixteen

Ethan lies back willingly. I kiss his lips before trailing more kisses over his tight T-shirt and down his front. I lift his shirt a little after reaching the hem of it and spend some time exploring his rippling six-pack. After stopping at his belly button, I follow the light trail of hair down to the waistband of his boxers, then grip them and tug them downward. The waist catches on the tip of his cock, but I peel the cotton over it, and Ethan lifts his hips, and when they’re down near his knees, he kicks them off.

He is long and hard and thick. And…I never thought I’d feel this way about a man’s penis, but it makes my mouth water. The crazy, insatiable desire for him to be inside me pulses in the part of me that wants him so, so bad.

I’m going to have to make do with having him in my mouth—which, right now, doesn’t seem at all like a hardship. I
want
to taste him, want to feel him under my lips and over my tongue.

A part of me realizes this is a basic, instinctual reaction that begins at the primal core of my humanity. The insatiable desire to mate and be mated. I feel primitive and raw, and so turned-on and needy, my eyes can’t seem to focus on anything.

I raise my hand tentatively to his cock. When my fingertips stroke over him, his whole body jerks in reaction.

I slide my fingers from the head to the base, marveling at the softness of the skin over the solid length of him, at the dry, searing heat of him.

I take my time exploring him with my fingers, stroking with my fingertips, then wrapping my hand around him and experimenting with moving my fist over his length, rubbing my thumb over the head, squeezing him loosely, then more tightly, roughly, then gently.

From the tempo of his breathing, from his gasps, it’s clear what he likes. When my hand strikes the perfect balance between soft and hard, he pants and thrusts up into my touch. When he does that, pushing the head of his cock through my fist, my mouth is ready, and I wet my lips and take him in.

We both groan. He is hot and hard under my lips, and he tastes clean, like Ethan always does, and salty and intrinsically male. Stretching my mouth wide to accommodate his girth, I move my fist and my mouth down him, taking in as much of him as possible.

“God, Tara,” he whispers roughly, pushing his fingers into my hair. “God…” He shudders. “Your mouth feels so…fucking…
good
.”

Strong, heady arousal washes through me, and my sigh brushes over his skin, making him shudder yet again. I love this, having this power over him, this ability to make him tremble and moan and to bring him pleasure. I love the taste of him inside my mouth, foreign yet so erotic.

My eyes sink shut as I focus on pleasuring him. I lose myself in moving my lips and hand over him. The glow of my recent orgasm fuels me, and my only goal is to bring him as much satisfaction as he’s brought me. Soon, his hands thread in my hair, and he begins to guide me. I let him direct my movements, always learning how he wants it, how he likes it, storing this information in my head for the future. Because I want to do this again and again and again.

He lets out a long, low groan and grows even bigger, a tight fit against the circle of my lips. He thrusts up against the back of my mouth, and I relax my throat, taking him in as deep as he can go. His thrusts become frantic, and his hands tighten in my hair.

“I…I’m going to come… Tara…” he forces out. “Stop… Stop…” He tugs me back halfheartedly, because he doesn’t want to force me to take anything I don’t want to.

But I do. I
do
.

I hum with pleasure, with acceptance. I squeeze my hands on him and my lips over him.

He thrusts over and over again, deep, his movements jerky, almost desperate. A moment later, he freezes, and he starts to come, his cock pulsing violently. I swallow convulsively, and as he shudders, my body shudders too, fully succumbing to the sheer carnal pleasure of this moment, and I am close to coming myself.

I keep sucking as the pulses recede, drawing out his pleasure for as long as possible until my mouth slips off him. I lay my cheek on his thigh for a long moment, then slowly crawl up his body, thread my hands into the softness of his hair, and give him a wet kiss, knowing he can taste his own release on my lips. And right now, that is the most erotic thing imaginable.

God. I want him. I want to wrap myself all around him, hold him close, and let him take every single bit of me into his care and keeping.

These are wild thoughts. Crazy thoughts. Unsafe ones. Stupid ones, since he has absolutely guaranteed me that he cannot be held responsible for the care and keeping of any part of me.

I try to push it all away. I want to enjoy this moment and not think of anything deeper, anything beyond. But I can’t help it. It’s unstoppable, this desire for more.

The kiss slows, becomes sensual, then languid, and we finally pull apart, both of us sighing in satisfaction. Then, Ethan tugs me against him. I entwine my body with his.

Moments later, with my leg draped over him, my arm wrapped around his torso, and my head safely resting in the crook of his arm, I drift off, rocking along with the
Temptation
in a warm sea of contentment.

* * * * *

“Ethan! Ethan!”

The screech rips me out of slumber, and for a moment, I have no idea where I am or who’s lying beside me or who’s screaming.

A figure sits up beside me, and I realize it’s Ethan, still wearing his black T-shirt, his dark hair sexily rumpled…maybe from sleep, maybe from all the illicit things we did to each other earlier.

Ethan directs a frown at the closed door. “What is it?” he calls out roughly.

“There’s a problem.” Nalani’s panicked voice comes from beyond the door. “A serious problem.”

Ethan glances at me in alarm, and we both scramble to pull on some clothes. “Okay, we’ll be out in a minute.”

A few moments later, Ethan and I come out into the main cabin, him in his T-shirt and sweatpants, and me in my pajamas. Kyle is there, shirtless, his hair in haphazard spikes. His expression is one of complete bewilderment. Nalani is standing in the doorway that leads down to the two cabins on the opposite side of the boat from Ethan’s and mine.

“What’s going on?” Ethan asks.

Kyle swallows hard and turns to Nalani, who’s visibly trembling. She stands there, looking first at Ethan, then at me, and finally at Kyle. Then her gaze moves to the front window and unfocuses, as if she’s gazing at a vague outline of an island miles in the distance. “It’s Mick,” she says in a reedy voice. “He… He’s
gone
.”

“Gone?” I repeat. “Gone where?”

She shakes her head. “He’s just…disappeared.”

“Are you sure?” Ethan asks her.

“I just checked the bunks again.” Nalani’s dark eyes are wide with shock as she finally turns back to Ethan, as if imploring him to tell her what needs to be done next. “No trace.”

“Did he fall overboard? He must have fallen overboard.” Kyle’s words are flat. Emotionless. As if he’s in shock.

We all stare at one another in silence for a moment. I turn to Kyle and Nalani. “You two were on watch after Ethan came down, right?”

“Right,” Kyle says. “And nothing strange happened, until…” His voice drops off. Nalani sinks onto the sofa as if her legs can no longer support her. Her café latte complexion drains until her skin is the color of curdled buttermilk.

“Oh God,” she whispers.

“What?” Ethan asks sharply.

Nalani swallows hard and gestures roughly at Kyle. “He came down to go to bed, but he went into my cabin. I went down to tell him to get the hell out of my bunk, that he has the couch until we get to Hawaii, and after that, I never want to see his—” She breaks off, not making eye contact with Kyle or anyone.

“We were arguing,” Kyle explains, as if that weren’t already obvious.

“How long were you down there?” Ethan’s hand slips into mine, and he squeezes tight.

Kyle shrugs. “Maybe half an hour. Maybe longer.”

Nalani groans and presses her forehead into her palms. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”

“We need to see if we can find him,” Ethan says. “We’ll get the boat turned around, then we’ll align our course with the GPS so we retrace our route.”

We all nod.

“Let’s do a thorough search, see if there’s anything missing or that can give us a clue about what happened,” Ethan continues. “Once we get closer to the area where he disappeared, we can post ourselves around the boat and see if we can spot him.”

Everyone agrees…our plan is set, and we all move into action. Nalani is losing it, though. Muttering “Oh my God, oh my God. Oh God…” as we go up onto the deck to prepare the
Temptation
to make a 180-degree turn.

But as soon as I go out into the cockpit, something seems amiss. Different somehow. Wrong. I step all the way to the stern and look over the back of the boat.

“Oh no,” I whisper. “The tender.”

Ethan comes up behind me and stares, then Nalani and Kyle move in behind him. All of us are silent as we stare at the empty spot where the tender—the small rubber dinghy that’s used for going ashore when the
Temptation
is anchored—used to be.

Finally, Kyle laughs shakily. “I guess that answers the question of whether he fell overboard.”

None of the rest of us laugh. Why would Mick do this? Why steal the tender and leave the
Temptation
?

Ethan stands beside me, tension rolling off him in hot waves. “He knew I was on to him,” he mutters in a voice so low only I can hear.

He’s guilty
. Ethan was digging, getting close to the truth, and Mick knew. He got scared, and he left.

Deep in my heart of hearts, I now know that the slick on the deck was deliberate. The peanut poisoning was deliberate. God knows what his motivation was, but Mick was responsible.

I press my hand to my stomach to stanch the nausea.

Nalani makes a strangled noise behind me. “Oh God.” For a moment, I wonder if she’s lost the rest of her vocabulary, and then she says, in a flat voice, “He took all the gas cans.”

I turn to see that she’s opened up one of the hatches leading to a storage area in the cockpit and is gazing down into it. Ethan goes over to her and looks down into it as well. “All our extra gas?”

She nods.

Of course. Of course he took the gas. We’re still fairly far from land. He’ll probably need all of it to fuel the tender’s motor the rest of the way to Hawaii.

“How much do we have left to run the engine?”

“About a quarter of a tank.”

“Should be enough, right?”

“Enough to get us into the harbor?” Nalani nods. “I think so. If we don’t use the engine until we get there.”

“Should we still go after him? Try to find him?” Kyle asks.

“No, we shouldn’t,” Ethan says firmly. “He’s clearly fucked-up and dangerous. We need to call this in and have the coast guard deal with it.”

“Oh God,” Nalani murmurs again. Then she straightens, shakes herself, and swivels around. She disappears through the companionway, and we all follow her back into the cabin to watch her put in the call to the coast guard.

We head to the chart table where the radio is. She turns it on. Nothing happens. She checks the fuse, and it’s fine. The wires are fine—everything looks fine. She tries it again—nothing.

Ethan turns to Kyle. “Go check the bridge.”

Kyle, his expression more serious than I’ve ever seen it, doesn’t question Ethan’s command. He just nods and disappears.

Suddenly, Nalani gasps. She raises her hand to the DC panel, riveting our gazes to it. My eyes flicker between the AC, DC, and inverter panels. None of the lights are illuminated on any of the panels. All three are completely dead. There’s no power.

“Oh God,” Nalani whispers yet again. She shoos me off the sofa, removes the cushions and the hatch that leads to the battery storage underneath. The batteries are missing. Just…
gone
.

Ethan, Nalani, and I stare at the empty space in silence. Then Nalani opens the drawer where the satellite phone is stored. It’s not there.

We have no phone. Without the twelve-volt batteries, there’s no power on the
Temptation
. No lights. No Internet. No radio and no computers, once their batteries die. No autopilot or GPS. No engine, because the engine starter requires battery power. We’ve got nothing to get us to Hawaii now but the wind and the sails.

“How did this happen?” I murmur. I was sound asleep last night, wrapped around Ethan. But Nalani and Kyle were supposed to be on watch. How could they not notice Mick taking the batteries and the tender?

Because they were engaged in a passionate argument, that’s why. Because they’d lost all awareness of anything but each other.

Kyle’s shout from the companionway gives us the news we already know. He leans inside, his eyes wild. “Holy shit! Everything’s dead up there.”

“How’s the boat steering itself without autopilot?” I asked.

“He lashed the wheel in place,” Kyle says, coming fully inside. He leans on the galley counter. “I checked the compass, and we’re on the same heading we were when I last checked it last night. He probably wanted us to keep going along thinking nothing was wrong so he could make his fucking getaway, or whatever.”

“Jesus.” Ethan shakes his head.

“Why?” Nalani moans, pushing her fingers into her thick black hair. “Why would he do this to us?”

I wonder the same thing. I want to moan like Nalani, but there’s only numbness. My feet are glued to the floor of the cabin, my muscles too heavy to move, as if roots have grown from me into the floor of the
Temptation
, and even taking one step would require too much effort.

“We can still sail this boat,” Ethan says quietly. “We’re just over two hundred nautical miles from Oahu.”

“There’s no GPS,” says Kyle.

“We continue on this heading,” Ethan responds in a reasonable tone. “We’re aimed directly at Oahu.”

“There’s a storm coming tonight,” Nalani points out. “It’s going to throw us off course.”

“But you have your sextant, right?” Ethan asks her. “You know how to navigate the old-fashioned way?”

Nalani gives a slight nod. “Yeah,” she says gruffly, “if I remember. And if the weather clears.”