S.E.C.R.E.T.: An Erotic Novel (18 page)

Rescue me? Were it not for the very real weather, causing very real panic, I would
have assumed this was, indeed, my rescue fantasy. But there was a storm to survive,
and this man’s tight expression made it clear to me that this wasn’t part of the fantasy
at all. I
was
in danger. I clutched a rail, my tunic soaked to my skin. Was it really safer in
that tiny little boat than on the enormous solid yacht? Nothing was making sense.

“Cassie! Come closer and grab my hand!”

I stepped out onto the deck and saw the churning sea around me. Wave after wave smashed
high over the deck, slapping my legs, sending gallons more water over the polished
wood and into the blue pool. Another wave hit, this time sweeping me off my feet and
onto my hip with a bang. I sat there, legs splayed, frozen, as I do in times of abject
panic. I could no longer hear Jake’s voice, just the sound of the angry, black sea.
I grabbed onto a lower rail, afraid to stand up. I had the doomed sense that if I
let go, I’d be washed over the side of the heaving boat. Before I knew what was happening,
an arm like a tree trunk grabbed me around my middle and lifted me off the ground.

“We have to get off this boat, now!” Jake bellowed.

“Okay, then!”

What can I say? I flailed like a scared, wet cat in the driving rain. I clutched where
I could, but his T-shirt was slippery and I couldn’t get a grip. I went over the side
of the boat, felt the sharp sting of the water. For a second I went under and could
see only the churning above my head. I screamed underwater, soundlessly, and felt
my body buffeted by the swells until at last my head emerged and the scream pierced
my own ears. I pulled in a fast breath and had just a second to see that if the boats
moved any closer to each other, I would be crushed. Before I could figure out what
to do, I saw Jake struggling through the waves to reach me.

“Cassie! Calm down!” Jake yelled, splashing towards me. “You’re gonna be okay, but
you have to relax.”

I tried to listen, tried to remember that I could in fact swim. I helped us move towards
the side of the rescue boat and from there he secured my hands around a lower rung
on the ladder, climbed ahead a few steps, then reached down and pulled me aboard like
I was a wet rag doll. I dropped onto the deck, breathless. He shook out his hair,
knocking the sea water from his ears, then took my face in his hands and said, “Good
going, Cassie.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “I nearly killed us both! I panicked!”

“But then you calmed down and you helped us swim to the boat. And we’re okay now.
We’re going to be okay.” He moved strands of dripping hair away from my face. “Let’s
get you below deck.”

I finally got a good look at the man who had saved me, as he stood up. He was enormous,
at least six-foot-five, with a shock of black wavy hair and black eyes. He had the
profile of a Greek statue. He caught me looking at his torso and then it struck me.
He knows my name!

“Are you one of the men from …”

“I am,” he said, yanking me to my feet. He threw a thick wool blanket around my shoulders
and added, “Now that we’re here and you’re safe, maybe we should get back to the plan.
What do you think? Do you accept the Step?”

“I … guess so, yes. I do.”

“Well, either way, I still have to get us out of here. I am a certified diver and
lifeguard, just in case you were wondering.”

He placed his firm hands on my trembling shoulders
and ushered me below to a much smaller room, cozier than any I had seen on the yacht,
but much less steady. The waves were slapping at the portholes. I made a beeline for
a space heater in the corner and used the blanket to cup the warm air on either side
of me. I looked around, trying to keep my balance as the storm tossed the boat. The
room was dimly lit with gaslight sconces, oak walls and quilted pillows strewn about
a high bed. I noticed a quaint kitchenette with an old-fashioned stove and a ceramic
sink. It looked like the captain’s quarters.

“I’m sorry I panicked. I thought we were moving
away
from the storm. Next thing you know, I was in the storm.” I started to sniffle, the
events of the last half hour finally catching up to me.

“Shhh … it’s okay,” Jake said. He swiftly crossed the room and took me in his arms.
“You’re safe now. But I have to leave you here to steer us away from the hurricane.”

“Hurricane!”

“Well, initially it was a tropical storm. It turned very quickly. Wait here. And get
those wet clothes off. It won’t be long until we’re safely away,” he said, his muscled
torso apparent through this wet white T-shirt. This man was romance-cover-model perfect.
And though I didn’t want to be alone again, he had an authority to his voice that
was hard to ignore.

“Get under those covers and warm up. I’ll join you soon.”

He went to leave, then pivoted and made his way over to where I was standing in front
of the heater. When he bent
to kiss me, I almost laughed at the image of us, me a naked woman under a blanket
being kissed by a giant, shirtless god, one with wet curls and the thickest eyelashes
I’ve ever seen on a man. He placed his lips on mine and pressed, parting them easily,
his warm tongue prodding, tentatively at first. He folded over me, his massive hand
cradling my head like it was no bigger than a peach. When he pulled away from me it
was only reluctantly, I could feel it.

“I won’t be long,” he said.

“Hurry back.”
Hurry back? I might as well have said that in a Southern accent!
We were in real danger and I was swooning like a schoolgirl.

Dropping the damp blanket to the floor, I looked around the room. I opened the small
galley closet and found a few blue work shirts hanging there. I peeled off my wet
clothes and carefully strung them over a chair in front of the space heater. I threw
on one of the flannel shirts. It was so big,
he
was so big, it hung to my knees. I crawled on top of the big bed, feeling the waves.
With every passing minute, the Gulf waters seemed calmer and calmer. I thought about
the cute pilot and hoped he had reached shore safely. I made a mental note to ask
Jake to check for me. There must be some number, some central call-in place where
members and participants could reach someone from S.E.C.R.E.T.

The sound of the motor dying down woke me from a nap. I had no idea how long I had
been out, but the waves had calmed considerably. I could hear Jake bumping around
above me, making his way across the deck to the stairs to the galley,
where I lay on the bed waiting. I wasn’t good at waiting. Calmness in the face of
chaos wasn’t my style. But this was, after all, my rescue fantasy. While I decided
I didn’t like being rescued one bit, I was willing to take part in the aftermath.

“Hi,” he said, grinning from ear to ear at the sight of me on the bed.

“Hi.”

“Everything’s good up there. We’re safely away from the storm. Do you mind if I take
off the rest of my wet clothes?”

“I don’t mind at all,” I said, resting back on the pillows. If he was going to rescue
me, I was going to play along. “So I’m safe, then?”

“You were never in any danger,” he said, shuffling off his damp jeans. This comment
pricked the fantasy bubble and left me reeling in reality.

“Are you kidding? I fell off a
boat
into the
Gulf
during a
hurricane!
”

He was so tall he had to duck in the galley as he made his way to the bed.

“Yes, you did, Cassie, but I’m trained to save lives. And yours was never in great
danger. I can assure you.”

He was so smooth from head to toe that he looked like marble. “But, but what if … something
had happened to me?”

“It was a tropical storm that became a hurricane very quickly. No one saw it coming,
not even the weather bureau.”

I had to admit, there is something exciting about surviving an accident. You feel
alive in the most visceral way; your veins pulse; you can detect your skin breathing.
You feel
very fragile and human, but at the same time nearly immortal. Jake tentatively approached
the bed. I could smell the salt water on his skin and some other scent beneath that,
something velvety and dark.

“Do you still accept the Step?” he asked, his black eyes on me, his hands pushing
his wet hair back in a way that reminded me so much of Will.

“I … guess,” I said, my chin jutting out over my blanket like an impudent child’s.
“But I don’t know if I can feel sexy and terrified at the same time.”

“Let me help,” he said, taking a fistful of my blanket in one hand.

He drew the blanket away from my shoulders and nestled it around my waist. He took
a long look at me, then tugged me closer to him, tilting my head up and putting his
salty lips to mine. He loomed over me, making me feel safe again, protected. He told
me over and over that I was okay, that I’d be okay, slowly nudging the blanket at
my waist to the floor and pushing me back onto the bed. I felt my damp hair spread
out around me, and his skin, that expanse of smoothness, meeting every inch of my
own flesh. I closed my eyes and let my resolve melt. And I took in his smell: the
ocean.

“I’m going to take very good care of you, you know that, right?”

I nodded, too stunned to talk. This was a man the likes of which I’d never seen, never
experienced. He made me feel soft and small and delicate. In my constant self-sufficiency,
I had forgotten it might be possible to have a man protect me, to
be my anchor. I swear to God I trembled as I watched him move to the foot of the bed,
gently fold his enormous hands around my ankles, lift a foot to his face, then run
his tongue along the tender arch, kissing the tips of my toes, then putting them in
his mouth. I couldn’t help but giggle. I relaxed back on my elbows as he slipped his
hands up the length of my calves, my thighs, and then stopped to look at my face,
devouring me with his eyes. He knelt on the bed, resting my legs on either side of
him, and parted me. He trailed his hands along my quivering thighs (yes, they really
were quivering!). He skimmed over me with his thumbs, not quite touching me there,
then up my torso to my breasts. I arched forward, aching for him. I arched in a way
that said,
Now, please!
And yet he continued to tease me with his tongue, arousing me so quickly and so fully.
See? See what you’re doing to me?
I wanted to say. But I was speechless. Oh God, I had never been with a man this compelling,
this strong. He was a work of art.

“Do you want me inside you, Cassie?” he asked, propped up on one elbow, his free hand
caressing my breast.

Do I?

“Um … yes.”

“Say it. Say you want me.”

“I … want you,” I said, with an urgency that had me on the brink of tears.

With that, he trailed a hand from my breasts down to my stomach and thrust his finger
inside me. “You
do
want me,” he said, a dark smile crossing his lips.

I almost made a joke about going overboard, but I shook it out of my head. His face
came towards mine and his kiss was full of vigor and fire. I kissed him back with
the same force. It was different from Jesse’s kiss, or any kiss I’d ever had. This
one was all-consuming. I kissed him like my life depended on it. Then his hand reached
beneath a pillow and freed a condom, and he stopped kissing me just long enough to
rip the package open with his teeth. He slipped it on with ease and then guided himself
into me.

“You’ll never be afraid again, Cassie,” he said.

I lifted for him, and then with my eyes closed, savored the feel of him. How long
had it been since a man entered me? Had I ever been taken so richly, so completely
before? Never. My wanting was so intense, it almost felt like my first time.

He was thrusting into me, deeper and deeper, stopping every inch so that I could take
him in, breathe into him, and then began to move above me, slowly at first, and then
faster, rhythmically, smoothly. I couldn’t help but gasp. His arms were beneath me,
pulling me towards him so he could move deeper inside me. I couldn’t believe how wet
I was. My thighs were now wrapped high around his back, the muscles in his arms tensing
and twitching.

“Cassie, this is incredible,” he said, before nudging me to turn over and slide on
top of him, which I did. His hands found my waist and held on, and he lifted me until
we found our rhythm again. Then he put his thumb to me, bringing yet another part
of me alive.

“I could do this to you forever,” he said.

But it was too much to bear. I threw my head back, my hands on his chest. He was so
far inside me it felt like he was part of me, and as he stroked in and out, something
in me ignited as he touched a spot, the sweetest spot I owned.

Pleasure swam to the surface, moving me out of the way so it could take over. “Baby,
you’re going to make me come.” The words tumbled out of my mouth.

He pushed into me, into that spot inside of me, until I had no choice but to let go.
It was like a wave, inside and out. I rode him hard, and as I did I could feel him
tense up and let out a low, deep moan. I didn’t care anymore about falling, about
the danger, about where I was, and what was happening outside with the sea. Only what
was happening inside mattered, here on the bed, in this boat, with this Greek god
of a man who’d plucked me from the water and who I was now straddling on a high, soft
bed.

Moments later I collapsed across his chest. I felt him recede inside of me until he
gently eased himself out. And then he lay there, lazily stroking my back, tugging
at my damp hair, and muttering, over and over again, “Incredible.”