Be Careful What You Wish For(30)

Gradually she became aware again of the rocking of the boat, and the soft sighing of the wind as it whispered through the empty rigging. Sean lifted himself, and then pulled her back into his lap, cradling her and kissing her face softly. She felt tears building up and welling out of her eyes, and then it washed over her. Everything that had happened, from her kidnapping to this strange new existence hit her at once. She missed her old life, that was true—but what scared her the most was she’d just allowed herself to be f*cked by the man who’d captured her, in front of his crew, and all she could think was how much she wanted it to happen again.
What had come over her, what kind of person was she deep down inside?
She sobbed quietly in his arms for what had to be an hour, and he simply held her, rubbing the top of her head and giving her small kisses on her face. Then he led her slowly around the deck to the ladder, taking her down into the cabin. She realized later that she still wasn’t wearing her shorts, and that the two other men had seen everything .
It doesn’t really matter, though, she told herself that night as she looked in the mirror. Once two men watch you f*ck doggy style on a boat deck, a little casual nudity isn’t all that serious in comparison.



Chapter Ten
No one should be enjoying life as much as this, she thought in disgust. There was something vaguely obscene about how pleasant it had been over the past week. Much like her time at the villa, she found herself falling into a sensuous routine on board the boat. The only thing that made it less than perfect was the fact that Skip and Jose were still with them. She and Sean had a much better understanding of how to sail the boat, but Sean still didn’t want to get rid of the two men. She wished he would—they frightened her. She knew they still had a lot to learn, but surely there were better people out there to teach them.
They had gone ashore three times, and each time she and Sean stuck together. At first she’d had some dim idea of escape, but it was pretty clear that wouldn’t happen any time soon. For one thing, she didn’t have any money. For another, she was terrified of Skip. Her earlier fantasies of killing the crew and taking over the boat had been ludicrous. She didn’t want to kill anyone, even if she could.
She knew Sean would be able to find her if she ran, but that didn’t scare her. He wouldn’t hurt her. If Skip found her, though, she’d be finished. He’d gut her without thinking, using that long, wickedly sharp knife he kept in his belt. Where the hell had Valzar found a man like that?
Every time he looked at her, he had a smug, smirking look in his eyes. As if he knew all about her, and wasn’t particularly impressed. She supposed part of it was in her head—after all, it was hard to feel friendly toward a man who’d spied on you during sex. But she wasn’t imagining the entire thing. He watched her closely, and his looks weren’t friendly. She felt sorry for Jose. Skip wasn’t the kind of man she’d wish on anyone, and couldn’t help but think that sharing his bed wasn’t the kindest of fates. Still, the young man didn’t seem to be unhappy. He did all that Skip asked of him cheerfully, and each night they disappeared to their tiny cabin near the engine compartment without comment.
Despite this, though, things were good. Skip wouldn’t be around forever.
She’d made a decision, too. She wasn’t going to leave Sean. She didn’t like everything that he did, but she’d realized something a while back. She wanted to be with him. Regardless of “Stockholm Syndrome,” she knew her feelings for him were real. She hadn’t left anything behind that was so important to her. Living with Sean was good, and she wanted it to continue.
Once she made that decision things got a little easier.
The days blended into each other, and she spent her mornings lazing on the deck, occasionally dipping in for a swim when they weren’t under sail. Much of the time they spent anchored off small islands, many of them almost untouched by the tourist trade. She had always been a strong swimmer, and practicing in the warm Caribbean waters only made her better. So when, on the spur of the moment one evening, he asked her to swim to shore with him, she didn’t think twice. She simply pulled off her sarong revealing the two-piece swimsuit underneath and dove in.
They played as they swam, him catching up to her and ducking her under, and her pulling him down with her. He was stronger, of course, but in the water he was still vulnerable. They raced the last hundred yards to the beach, wading up out of the water laughing and gasping for air. She ran to a coconut tree beyond the water line and tagged it.
“I win!” she called, although touching the tree hadn’t been part of the original race. In response he growled, running toward her with a look of mock menace. She squealed, and ran down the beach. He followed, catching her up in his arms within a few yards and tossing her around as if she weighed nothing.