Taken (13 page)

I swallow hard against the sob gathering in my throat. “You’re not a monster.”

You let out an indignant snort and pound your fists against the railing. “I’ll take you home.”

Your words are a slap to my conscience. Panic digs its fingernails into my spine. I’m on my feet and standing behind you in an instant. “No.”

You turn to me, your face a cocktail of guilt, surprise and reluctance. “I’ll take you home, Rachael. You don’t want to stay here with me.”

“My mom called,” I say, grasping at anything I can think to convince you. “I didn’t answer it. I didn’t know what to tell her. I didn’t want to be tempted to tell the truth,” I glance down at my feet, “and leave you.”

You push away from the railing, squat down and start packing food back into the picnic basket. “Call her back. Tell her your consulting job is finished, and you’ll be home in the morning.”

I dive to my knees beside you, pulling your hands out of the basket so I can take them in mine. But you nudge me away from you. “I wanted you Rachael, and not as an employee.” You grab the olives, sending them rolling over the blanket and deck. “You’re right, I don’t think. I act. I do whatever I need to, to get what I want. I fuck everything up—all the time. We were fucked before we had a chance to even begin.” You reach in the basket, come out with a handful of chocolate cake and throw it against the side of the tree house. “Fuck.”

You sit and lean against the railing with your knees up and your forearms propped on top of them. Your fingers dangle, your right hand covered in chocolate. With your head hanging, chin to chest, I can’t see your eyes.

Doubt and uncertainty circle through my chest. I should let you take me home, but I don’t want to. I can’t stop my insane infatuation with you—a tortured, misunderstood, miserable man I can’t get enough of. I’m walking straight into the lion’s den, and I don’t even care. I only run faster.

You sigh and glance up at me. I can’t stand the anguish in your eyes. I crawl to you and sit on my knees at your feet. Your expression is filled with unasked questions. In answer, I take your wrist and lift your chocolate-covered hand to my mouth. Very slowly, I run my tongue from the bottom of your palm to the tip of your middle finger. You close your eyes and exhale deeply.

With my free hand, I push against your knee, sliding your legs apart and scooting in between them. Closer to you now, I put your index finger in my mouth and caress it with my tongue. Dark chocolate and raspberry make my mouth water. I suck your finger and slowly pull it out of my mouth.

You watch me glide the tip of your ring finger over my lips leaving a smear of frosting that my tongue eagerly licks away. “Why are you doing this to me?” you whisper. “You don’t want me.”

I can’t answer you in words. All I know is what my body is telling me. I suck your pinkie and lick it clean. With only your thumb left, I bring it to my neck and trail a line of chocolate down to my chest. I lift myself higher on my knees and tilt my head, my eyes daring you to resist me.

Your chest heaves. The muscles in your arms clench. You want this. “I want this,” I whisper, and that’s all it takes to ignite you.

You press me against your chest with your hands splayed across my back, your open mouth sliding up my throat. You groan into the soft indentation at the base of my neck, sending thrilling vibrations through my body. I gasp and pull you even closer. I’m breathing so hard; I can’t catch my breath. Your hands tangle in my hair and tug my head further back. Your tongue scorches a trail up my neck to my chin. Then your lips capture mine. We’re panting into each other’s mouths. Tongues tangling, pushing, stroking. Nothing has ever felt as good as you.

“Don’t take me back,” I beg. “I never thought I’d be here.”

Your hands climb to my neck; your mouth moves to my chin, my cheeks, back to my mouth. “Never. I’ll never take you back.”

We lean our foreheads together, sticky and sweaty, dizzy and drunk on one another, your hands on my face, mine in your hair. “Help me get past this.”

“I’m trying.”

I stroke your cheek. “Don’t give up on me.”

You chuckle. “I’m supposed to say that.” Your fingers gently pull strands of hair away from my neck where it’s stuck to my skin. “If I had it to do over, I’d go right to your door and talk to you. I’d take my time, ask you out for coffee, convince you to come down here with me—just for a weekend—long enough to let this place sink into you. You’d choose to be here and never leave. Then we wouldn’t have this…situation standing in our way.”

I rub my cheek over yours, delighting in the sensation of soft stubble prickling my skin. “I know you didn’t mean me harm,” I whisper in your ear.

Your lips slide along my jaw to my ear. “I won’t hurt you. You can trust me, Rachael.”

“Be patient.” I spread my hands across your broad, strong chest and lay my head on your shoulder.

Your hand cups my cheek. “I’ll wait forever for you if I have to.”

We sit in the last remaining moments before darkness falls, perfectly still until our breathing steadies and our hearts stop pounding. “I’m sorry I spilled the olives,” you say. “You were eating those.”

“Somehow most of our meals together end up forgotten.” I brush my lips lightly over yours. “I’m okay with it though.”

“I’ll get everything back out.” Your finger runs up and down my arm. “But I don’t want to move right now.”

I nuzzle my nose in close under your ear. “Don’t move. Stay right here.”

When the first few stars blink in the sky, I take your hand and lead you back onto the blanket. We lay side by side, our folded hands resting over your heart, letting ourselves be smothered by the darkness.

The rapid, steady beat of helicopter blades wakes me the next morning. I dart up onto my knees and press my face against the window pane, trying to see it flying overhead. I can’t spot it in the blinding white sun, but know where it’s headed.

You’re not in the room. We came back late. Both of us had fallen asleep in the tree house. After tucking me into bed and placing a chaste kiss on my lips, you retreated to the couch to sleep. I check the time on my phone. Seven-thirty. I wonder what woke you so early.

I quickly shower, scrubbing off sticky chocolate residue, dress, and head downstairs.

Voices greet me on my way through the lounge. Yours and someone else’s—a woman’s. The two of you sit at the wrought iron table on the patio sipping coffee.

She’s in my seat.

You see me and jump up. “Morning.” You’re all smiles, rushing toward me. “Rachael, this is Joan, my assistant.”

The leggy blonde stands and holds out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Rachael. I brought you a wardrobe so you don’t have to wear Merrick’s clothes anymore.”

I wonder if all of your employees call you by your first name. “Thank you.” I shake her hand and glance down at myself wearing your t-shirt and baggy basketball shorts cinched tight at the waist. I like wearing them.

You pull out the chair on the other side of yours, across the round table from Joan. “I’ll get your coffee.” You plant a kiss on top of my head and disappear inside.

Joan raises an eyebrow and gives me a smug smile. “Well. I’ve never seen him like this. He’s the one who gets waited on hand and foot, certainly not the other way around.”

“He’s been very attentive,” I mutter, wishing she didn’t look quite so perfect in her short red sundress and spiky heels. “Did you come alone?”

“Yes, I was dropped off first thing this morning to coordinate the arrival of the work crew and building supplies.” Her red fingernails tap against her mug. “And to touch base with Merrick privately before things got crazy around here.” She laughs, but it’s fake.

I tap my teeth together. I don’t like the sound of this woman having private time with you. My intuition tells me her motivation isn’t work related at all.

I shouldn’t be jealous. I barely know you, and Joan obviously does—well.

You stride back out through the patio doors and set a mug of coffee and dish of fruit in front of me. “You have to be starving. Joan and I are wrapping up here then I’ll make us breakfast.” You squeeze my shoulder. “Wow, you’re tense.” You stand behind me and massage my shoulders for a few minutes while Joan sips her coffee with her back ramrod straight and keeps her eyes glued to her mug.

“When will the crew arrive?” I ask, leading the conversation back to business.

Joan picks up her phone and taps a few times on the screen. “Forty-three minutes from now.” She opens a file folder and directs her question to you. “Will they start on the hotel or the pool and cabana area today?”

You sit and look at me, smiling. “Rachael?”

Joan’s eyes widen and shift to me. She doesn’t say a word.

“You and I can begin clearing out some of the guest rooms,” I say to you, ignoring Joan. “The crew will need somewhere to sleep. They can start on the pool area and work their way to the hotel once we’ve got everything we’d like to use in the restoration safely stored away somewhere.”

You knock your knuckles on the tabletop. “Perfect. Got that Joan?”

“Oh, I’ve got it.” She makes a few notes in her file before she stands. “I need to get to the landing area. Enjoy your morning.” She shoves a pair of sunglasses on her face and strides out through the gate.

“I have no idea how she’s going to make her way around the island in those heels,” I say, watching her go.

“She’s very resourceful,” you say, following her every stride.

“I figured.” I pop a grape in my mouth and crush it between my teeth.

You give me an uncertain look, like you’re not sure at all what I’m thinking. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” I force a smile onto my lips. “Thanks for the coffee and fruit.”

“You’re welcome.” Leaning back in your chair, your lips curve slightly at the corners and your eyes trail over my face. “I love how your skin glows in the morning sunlight. It’s been one of my favorite parts of having you here with me.”

My chest surges with nervous excitement. I can’t pull my eyes away from you. You’re so at peace. I’ve never seen you without a hint of torment playing over your face. Your fingers come up and teepee under your chin. Suddenly, the peaceful look is gone, and your brows furrow. “I never even considered…”

“What?”

“Do you have someone? A boyfriend? Someone I took you away from?”

“Did you see me with someone while you were watching me?”

A shadow crosses your face and then it’s gone. “No repeat offenders.”

I secretly enjoy the fact that you saw me going out with other men, and it bothered you. “If I did have someone, I suppose the relationship would be over now, don’t you think? My leaving without saying a word about it would put a strain on things.”

One eyebrow cocks up. “But you didn’t?”

I shake my head. “No. I didn’t.”

Your hands fall, and you grasp the arms of the chair, exhaling noisily. “Thank God. I didn’t need one more hurdle between us to leap.”

“That’s what I’m talking about though,” I say, leaning forward. “You need to take the feelings of others into consideration.”

You reach for my hand and place yours over it on the table. “I’m trying. It’s been about me for so long. I’ve grown accustomed to being selfish.” You lace your fingers with mine. “I promise you, anything I do from here on out will be to make you happy.”

Despite the fact that you’re getting ahead of yourself—and me—your words fill me with warmth. “If you can do that for me, you can do it for Heidi.”

Your hand squeezes mine. “When this restoration is well under way and the hotel is fit for guests, I’ll bring her and my brother-in-law and niece and nephew down to see it. And to meet you, if I haven’t run you off.”

“Let’s take us day-by-day. I think your sister and her family would love it here. Maybe we should put a slide in the pool.”

“The kids would love that.” Your smile is enormous, infectious.

“Merrick, you know that one kind gesture might not fix everything between the two of you, right?”

Your smile falters a little. “I know. But it’ll be a good start.”

“A very good start.” I push a strawberry around in my bowl, thinking about how to ask you what I’m wondering and deciding the best approach is to just ask. “Does Heidi talk to your father? How does she feel about the lawsuit?”