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Chapter Forty-nine
In no time, they were picked up and headed for safety. Men wearing FBI vests took over the minute the ship’s crew tied up at the dock. But while they were making their way to shore, Jake had worked on Hakim, lifesaving skills that made the difference between his living and dying.
They all breathed a sigh of relief when Hakim choked and puked up the water. With shallow breathing and pulse almost nonexistent, he’d scared them into thinking he wouldn’t make it.
Thanks to Jake’s skill, by the time the agents crowded around the moorings where their boat had slowed to a final stop, Jake knew the man would be alive to face the consequences of his actions. Revived, knowing that Jake had saved his life, he’d whispered, “Praise be to Allah.” Then before succumbing to the waiting oblivion of unconsciousness, he’d added, “I forgive you.”
***
It was some time later that her and Jake were alone in her cabin, needing to dry off. Carl had followed them into the room, “I’ll go grab the kid and bring him for lunch, and then I guess you two better fulfil your promise and take him to his family. Now that he’s here in Grenada, his anxiety’s back, and he’s in a panic to get home.”
Jake gave Carl a look, that through the ages men understood. In no uncertain terms, it said, “get lost.” Carl nodded. “I’ll leave you guys alone for now and let him know you’re both fine, and that you won’t keep him waiting too long.” The last sentence a warning that their time was limited.
Jake locked the door behind Carl and turned to find Rylee waiting to fling herself into his arms. The towel some kind person had draped around her shoulders pooled on the floor. She clung, making it hard for him to breathe. Pushing him away in a fit of temper, she yelled, “You’re an idiot!” Her voice shook with feelings being held in too long. “What the hell were you thinking, trying to catch Hakim’s attention so he could shoot the leaping, waving idiot and then make the target even easier by swimming toward the prick.”
“He was aiming at you.”
“Only to get your attention and make you react.”
“What can I say? It worked.”
“Oh my God, you’re smiling.” She slugged him in the chest, and he hoped she didn’t see the wince he hadn’t time to hide.
He wrapped his arms around her to stop her breakdown and held her close, whispering sweet words. “Baby, I’m fine. We’re both fine. Shuuu. Don’t cry. It’s over.”
She sniffed; her voice full of emotion, making it hard to get the words out. “I never cry. I hate tears. They don’t help. The pain never stops.”
Hearing those words made him aware they might be talking at cross purposes, a story he’d follow through on another time. Right now, all he wanted was to get her naked and make her his. He slid his face away from hers and tasted the saltiness she’d rejected as not possible, and his heart invoked more passion and caring than he thought he could feel.
He needed to get her on the defensive side. He held her away, his hands on her arms tight yet not bruising; he shook her and realized his enraged emotions hadn’t died away completely. He had to be careful and control the gush of anger that blindsided him. “You think it was easy for me to watch you tied to that chair all night, being slapped around by that ugly bear of a man?”
***
Not expecting this rebuttal, imagining herself in his shoes made Rylee stop and think. Hell, having to watch someone she loved being mishandled and imprisoned and not being allowed to step in would be pure hell.
“You’re right. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Damn right, I’m right. If I’d have lost you, after finally finding you, I don’t think I’d stay sane. He swept her close again and she felt the emotions he didn’t try to hide, couldn’t hide. The explosion of passion had been brewing.
She welcomed the change in his mood, appreciated the shift from the type of emotion she couldn’t handle to the kind she knew all to well. One minute he was whispering platitudes in her ear, and the next, passion had stirred, and he was kissing her silly.
If it were possible for someone’s eyes to actually spin in their sockets, hers would be madly twirling. The taste of his tongue drove her wild and the smell of his damp, warm body overwhelming hers drove her wilder.
Sifting her hands into his hair, she tried to hold his head in place, wanting – no, needing – to taste more of the heavenly feeling his mouth aroused. Their tongues made love and their lips tasted, even while their bodies bonded in a way that made them need to either lay down or fall down.
He swung her into his arms, swept the clothes off the bed and clumsily lowered her, following so he covered her completely. She pushed against him, and he instantly backed up.
Grinning, delighted by his careful passion, she teased, “We’re wet. Help me. Take off the clothes.”
“Right. Clothes. Yes. Here, let me.” He started trying to unravel the clinging, silken, wrap-like garment she wore and in a very short time, gave up. Laughing from being immersed in the mess he’d accomplished, she wiggled away and stood by the bedside.
He rolled over and watched while she undid the almost dry, lovely garment. As she peeled away each layer, she watched his body harden, his breath quicken, and his hands reach.
“I can’t take anymore.”
She stepped back playfully. “I’ve never wanted to strip before.”
He moaned but pulled his hands back and waited… watching avidly.
