The Paper Swan(23)

Damian was warning me. Don’t do anything stupid.

I nodded and finished my food. We’ll see about that.

I was even more desperate to escape now.



It was dark when the rugged hills of Bahia Tortugas came into view. I had a feeling it was more out of design than coincidence. Damian had planned it so we came in when it attracted the least amount of attention. My heart started to race as we approached the harbor. I had to grab whatever opportunity presented itself in the next few hours.

I stood in front of the mirror and took a deep breath. My hair was dirty and knotted, and I was floating in one of Damian’s t-shirts. I jumped in the shower and washed my hair. People were less likely to help a greasy haired androgynous runaway, so I rifled through my shopping bags and put on a slinky top and frayed denim shorts. Boobs and legs always get noticed. I found a make-up palette and applied some eyeliner and lip gloss.

By the time I was done, Damian had dropped anchor. We weren’t as close to the pier as I’d hoped to be, and looking out from the porthole I could see only two other boats. It was the perfect lonely outpost for a pit stop.

My spirits lifted when a couple of pangas came out to greet us. If it weren’t for the yellow glow from the kerosene lanterns on their masts, I would have missed the small dugout canoes. I remembered enough Spanish to figure out that the men were offering their services and negotiating rates for diesel and water. I thought of running topside, screaming for help, but it was dark and Damian could easily overpower me before I attracted much attention.

I was still peering out of the stateroom window when Damian came in. He stopped in his tracks when he saw me. For one full, glorious second, he wasn’t in control. His gaze swept the length of my legs, over the hip-hugging shorts, and lingered on the swell of my breasts under the scandalous top. Ha! He wasn’t immune after all. He caught the smug look on my face before I could wipe it off, and his eyes narrowed.

Shit.

I took one step back for each one he took forward, until I was jammed up between him and the wall.

God, he was intense. And deliberate. And he could say things with his eyes that made my knees tremble. One side of his face was bruised and distorted from where I’d hit him. He grasped both my wrists in one hand and pinned them above me. Every part of me felt flush with the heat emanating from his body, even though that was the only point of contact. He hooked a finger in the ‘V’ of my blouse, tracing the dangerously low cleavage. His touch was so soft, it was barely discernible.

“Skye?” He seemed hypnotized by the rapid rise and fall of my chest.

I swallowed.

“Don’t play with scorpions unless you intend to get stung.” He yanked the neckline apart.

Round, glass buttons popped onto the floor and rolled around like eyeballs, astounded by the sight of my bare flesh.

“We’re harsh and predatory and full of venom.” He gnashed his teeth at me and ripped my blouse in two.

He tore off a strip and bound my wrists. Then he used the hanging trail like a leash and led me to bed.

“You’ve been trying to get a rise out of me for days. Now that you have my attention, what are you going to do?” He leaned forward, so close that I fell back onto the mattress, trying to get away from him. “Or is it that you want me to do all the work so your pampered * gets a taste of the other side, but you can tell yourself you didn’t have a choice?” He crawled up over me, slowly, until we were nose to nose.

I felt like hell was about to consume me. I could hear the men outside, gearing up to fill the tanks. Would they hear the sound of my screams?

“Would you like me to invite them in?” Damian secured my wrists to the bed post. “Do you really think you’d be safer with them instead of me?” He tore off another strip, giving me the chance to scream or yell or shout for help. When I didn’t, he tied it around my mouth.

He sank back on his heels, kneeling between my legs, and ran a finger from my neck to the front clasp of my bra. I stopped breathing. He moved on, trailing over my stomach, until he got to the band of my shorts. He toyed with the tab, enjoying the start-stop effect it had on my heart.

“Such a frightened little bird,” he said. Then he yanked my legs around his hips so I was flush with his rock hard arousal. “You should know better than to provoke me.”

He rocked against me like that, fully clothed, imprinting his full weight and length on me. Then he got off the bed and spread my legs, tying them to opposite corners. I squeezed my eyes shut as he walked around, checking the knots, ensuring they would hold. Everything inside me was quaking and quivering. I was completely, completely at his mercy.