Give And Take: Taken Part 8

I hunch back into the couch, trying not to question why I didn't answer it. I don't need anything more to a.n.a.lyze.

Chapter Nine.

"This is amazing." My voice echoes in my ears through my headset. "You can see the whole island from up here." I grip my seat with sweaty hands as you fly us high over the island in your helicopter. My stomach drops and lurches each time we turn or dip, but my fear of heights has gone right out the window with the stunning view. The sunset is a spectacular sight when you're right in the midst of it. Orange, pink, and gold streaks stripe the blinding blue sky as it fades to gray.

You stare at me with a smile on your face and the oddest expression in your eyes. It's almost like reverence. "What?" I ask. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Your reaction makes every year I worked my a.s.s off to be able to own luxuries like this helicopter worth it." I didn't think your voice could affect me more, but through the mic it reverberates low and deep in my headphones.

I turn away, pretending to be enraptured with the view more than the look in your eyes. I could get lost in them if I let myself. It's unsettling. You make an amused sound, like you want to laugh. You know you're getting under my skin. It's obvious I'm holding onto my resolve by a thread. A fine, fraying thread.

You fly us around the island, stopping to hover by the boathouse. "Look." You say in your headset, pointing to the bank where we shoved off into the water in the fis.h.i.+ng boat. "See him? I told you there were gators around here."

Scooting to the edge of my seat, I lean over you to see and rest my hand on your thigh. You lower your hand on top of mine. "I don't see it." I squint, but can't make out any movement or alligator shapes on the sh.o.r.e.

"He's in the water now, about to go under."

I give you a sideways glance, and you start laughing. "You made it up."

Your arm circles my waist, and you tug me closer to you. "I'll admit it. It was a ploy to get you to slide over here."

"Sneaky."

"Strategic."

"Is it always about winning with you?"

A sly grin hitches across your lips. "No. It's mostly about s.e.x." You pat the picnic basket behind us. "And food. It's mostly about food and s.e.x."

My chest and neck flush, and I grin back at you. "Is that why you brought a blanket?"

Your eyebrows shoot up. "Well no, but I like where you're going with this."

Oh, G.o.d. My mind's in the gutter. Why do you do this to me?

Your smile grows wide, dimples showing. "Your face is blood red. Why are you embarra.s.sed? It's not like we haven't shared a moment...or two."

"I know. I was there." Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I glance out the side of the helicopter again. I feel like I'm sitting on top of the sun-too close, too hot.

Your fingers stroke up and down my side. "I'll put us down. I have a special place to show you."

"This entire island is a special place."

"This is more special. And secret. I was thinking you might want to keep it that way-secret-just for the two of us."

"What is this special place?"

Curiosity makes me turn back to look at you. My breath stutters. You can't keep the wide smile off your face. Your brown eyes glow amber in the setting sunlight. Waves of dark hair blow across your forehead. You exude s.e.xuality. I know it's helpless. I'll give in the next time you kiss me. I'm not strong enough to resist.

"You'll find out soon enough." Your hand runs up through my hair, and you squeeze the back of my neck. "Dinner comes with a free ma.s.sage. Lucky you."

"You're trying to get around the no touching rule."

"I'm touching you right now."

I lean my head back as you squeeze. "Not where it counts."

"Hmm...tell me where it counts."

"You know where it counts." G.o.d, your fingers feel good.

"I want to hear you say it. What do you call it, Rachael?"

"What do you call it, Merrick?"

You chuckle. "Right now I'm calling it The Forbidden Destination and trying like h.e.l.l to find a map."

I press my lips together suppressing a laugh. "Keep trying, you're getting closer."

You s.h.i.+ft in your seat. "You're making me hard again."

"Oh, I could take care of that for you, too." Your eyes meet mine. "If you had that map."

A deep groan growls from your throat, and you squeeze my neck again. "You're going to keep me at arm's length forever. I'm going to die on this island with the bluest set of b.a.l.l.s ever found on a man."

"Don't you have an a.s.sistant for that, too?"

Your hand flinches then freezes on the back of my neck, but you don't respond.

We start descending back toward the gra.s.sy area where you keep the helicopter. I've struck a nerve, but I'm not sure why. Are you sleeping with Joan? Were you at one time? Something happened to make you react this way. "I'm sorry if I said something I shouldn't have."

Your fingers work into my neck again. "You didn't."

But I did. I crossed a line. The thought of Joan arriving tomorrow makes my stomach clench. It's odd how quickly I've gone from wanting off this island to wanting to stay here alone with you for a while longer. I don't want Joan interfering before I get sure footing with you.

The copter b.u.mps down onto the ground. You flip some switches and pull your headset off. I do the same. "Don't move," you tell me.

I wait until you come around to my side and help me down. You take the picnic basket in one hand and place the other on top of my head to make sure I bend down with you, clearing the propeller slowly rotating to a stop. "It's not far from here," you say.

Unlike the first time you showed me the helicopter, we don't head through the Mangroves toward the water. This time, we walk the opposite direction through the gra.s.s and into the trees. They're just as dense, but don't have the cage-like root systems that make it almost impossible to get through. These trees are tall and fat, solid with high, leafy branches. Moss trails down like streamers blowing in the breeze. You approach one and hold the basket out to me. "I'll lower a hook down for the basket."

I'm confused until you start climbing a ladder-or rather, wooden planks nailed to the tree trunk. Following the boards up the tree, my eyes land on the underside of a ma.s.sive tree house. "Oh, wow. How did you find this?"

"I got lost on my way from the helicopter to the hotel the first time I came here. Wandered around for a few hours then leaned against this tree. One of the nails ripped a hole in my s.h.i.+rt."

"Is it safe?" I grab a board try to wiggle it. It doesn't budge.

"As far as I can tell." You take a few more steps up and disappear through the square hole in the floor. A few seconds later, you appear leaning over the side of a railing. "Okay, hook the basket on to this, and I'll haul it up. Can you make it up the ladder? I can come down and get you."

"I can climb a ladder, Merrick. You're the old man here. I'm only twenty-five."

I can't see you anymore, but I hear you laugh. As I reach up to grab hold of a board, you yell, "Watch out for snakes."

I jerk my hand back to my chest. "Very funny. Now you might have to come down and get me."

"How about I lower the hook? You can stick it in your pants and I'll pull you up. I'd like to see you with a ma.s.sive wedgie."

"And somehow you've reverted to the humor of a fifth grader." I start climbing, grinning hugely.

"I'm saving my fart jokes for later."

"You're sure you're Merrick Rocha, the billionaire real estate G.o.d? I'm starting to think you're an impersonator." I reach the top and grab the floor through the opening. Your hands grasp my wrists, and you pull me up to my knees. You're kneeling, and we're face-to-face.

"I'm just Merrick, okay? Nothing else. Just a regular guy."

I nod, but you'll never be just a regular guy. Regular guys don't buy islands with historic hotels on them. Regular guys don't own helicopters and have their a.s.sistants fly in food to stock their kitchen. Regular guys don't whisk women away-if that's what we're calling it.

We settle onto the red and green plaid blanket, and you open the basket. "Water, pasta salad, olives." You pull each item out one at a time, taking lids off of plastic containers and setting them in the center between us. "Grilled rosemary chicken and chocolate, raspberry cake for dessert."

I pop a green olive in my mouth. "When did you put all of this together?"

"I cooked a lot when we first got here." You frown, busying your hands with napkins and silverware. "You slept for quite a while." Your eyes find mine. "You slept so long, I was afraid I'd hurt you."

A wave of anger rolls through me. "You said you'd never done that before-put something in a woman's drink. How did you get it? How did you know how to use it?"

"A guy in the men's room offered it to me for twenty bucks. I didn't even think about it. I paid him, found you and bought you a drink. It seemed like the answer I'd been waiting for."

I grit my teeth. "It wasn't an answer."

"I know that. It was stupid. Dangerous. I could've hurt you. If I'd given you too much..." Your hand flies to your head. Your fingers pull at your hair. "I was seconds from taking you to a hospital when you finally woke up."

I pull my knees up and wrap my arms around them. "I don't believe you. How would you have explained what happened to me? You would've been arrested."

Your eyes glaze over, glaring at me. "You think I'd let you die?"

I flinch. "I--"

"I gave you your phone. You can call 911 any time. I offered to take you home. Why would I do that if I was afraid of being arrested?" You jam a bottle of water back into the picnic basket. Plates rattle and clank. "I wouldn't let you f.u.c.king die." You voice is quiet, steel.

On your feet, you lean your elbows on the railing. Both hands run over your head, fingers gripping and sliding through your hair in frustration. "If I could go back to that night, I'd leave you alone and find a way to forget you. n.o.body has ever distrusted me like you do. It's eating away at me. I can't fix it. I can't make you forget. You'll always think of me as the monster who abducted you."

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 c.o.c.ktail 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 f.u.c.k everything up-all the time. We were f.u.c.ked 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. "f.u.c.k."

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, pus.h.i.+ng, 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 p.r.i.c.kling 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."