Enslaved by the Ocean
Page 22
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I turn, staring over at the lifeboat. I still wonder about escaping on it. I don’t know if I can, or what my chances are, but it’s more than once crossed my mind. I peer around the deck, and see no one is up here, so I head over to it. I’m halfway up when I trip on a pile of ropes on the ground. I land with a thump, and curse loudly. Dammit. I go to move, only to realize my leg is tangled in one of the thick ropes. I squirm and tug, twisting my foot only to tangle myself more.
“What’re you doin’?” I hear Hendrix’s voice coming from behind me.
Of course he chooses now to come over.
“I got stuck.”
He leans down, gripping my foot and trying to untangle it.
“How the hell did you get it so tangled?”
“I don’t know,” I mutter. “Trying to untangle it?”
He shakes his head, and crouches down, twisting my foot to try and get it out. I squirm and pull, and he slaps my thigh. “Stop moving.”
My mouth drops open. He stops moving, as if he realizes what he just did. Our eyes meet and we just stare, confused.
“Did you just…slap me?” I whisper, shocked.
“If you quit moving, I wouldn’t have had to,” he grunts, turning his focus back to the ropes.
My mouth hangs open.
“Close that, before I find good use for it,” he growls, lifting his dark eyes to meet mine. My skin tingles.
“Stand up, this will be easier if you do,” he orders. He stands, taking me with him, and I lose my balance when I accidentally try to lift the wrong foot. Hendrix reaches out, taking my shoulder and goes to take a step forward to steady me, only to realize he’s wrapped the rope around his ankle, and is now tangled too. As if in slow motion, we topple backwards. I scream, and land with a thump on the ground as the ropes surround me. Hendrix lands over me, but manages to put his hand down to stop me taking the force of his body. He’s pressing into me in places he really shouldn’t be.
“Fuck,” he curses, tugging his hand to try and untangle it.
“How the hell did you get tangled too?” I cry out, squirming.
“Stop fuckin’ squirming like that,” he orders, and I stop as soon as I realize why he’s asked me to. He’s hard. My God, he’s hard.
“You’re…you’re…”
“I’m fuckin’ hard because you’re squirming against me. I’m a man. Get over it.”
I gape up at him, and he gives me a determined glare before tugging one of his hands, and freeing it. He reaches down and untangles my hand, and I shift to try and move my feet.
“Stop fuckin’ moving, you’re tangling us again.”
“Well, I can’t just lay here and not move,” I protest. “Why don’t you just get up and let me figure myself out.”
“If I leave it up to you, I’ll come back next week to a bag of rotting bones.”
“That’s mean,” I snap.
“Stop fucking squirming,” he hisses.
I didn’t realize I was squirming again. I try to stop myself, and I let him focus on untangling us. Stopping has me focusing on his erection pressing against my thigh, and that’s really not a good thing. I close my eyes and try to focus on anything else but the way his body is flexing and moving against mine.
“Errr, boss?”
We both turn our heads to see Drake staring down at us.
“Drake, cut these fuckin’ ropes,” Hendrix barks.
“Yes boss,” he says, but I can hear the humor in his voice.
“It’s not funny, Drake,” I snap.
He doesn’t answer; he just cuts us free. After Hendrix pulls himself to his feet he reaches down and pulls me up too. I kick the strands off my foot, and refuse to meet his gaze as I hurry off.
“Thank you would be nice,” Hendrix yells.
“Thank you,” I cry, and scurry down the stairs.
God, could it get any worse?
Ahoy, me heartie!
I hide in shame for the remainder of the day. My cheeks flush every time I think about my little moment with Hendrix. I decide today I won’t go and see Eric; I just need to think. When night falls, I go to bed early, trying to avoid any confrontation. I’m becoming bored and desperate, and the only thing I can do is sleep. Tonight, however, sleep isn’t happening. I just can’t settle, and my body is restless. I decide after much debate, to make a dash to the kitchen. I need milk. It fixes all my sleeping problems.
I climb off the sofa and sneak out to the kitchen. When I get inside, I flick on the light and tiptoe in until I reach the fridge. Opening it, I ruffle through until I find a bottle of milk. I take it out, and pour some into a glass before popping it into the microwave. I hit 30 seconds, and wait. The ship is noisy this evening. I guess the guys decided it was time to party. The microwave dings, and I pull my warm glass out, swishing it around before bringing it to my lips. The warm liquid soothes my dry throat, and I sigh.
I turn to head back out, when the kitchen door swings open and Hendrix comes stumbling in. Oh magic, he’s drunk. He doesn’t notice me at first, and walks over to the cupboard, opening it to pull out a packet of crackers. I clear my throat, and he spins, sending crackers flying across the floor. I snort a laugh, and wrap both of my hands around my milk to stop it from spilling.
“What the…?” he mutters.
His eyes are glassy, so my guess is that he’s had more than just a few. I hold up the glass. “Just getting milk. You guys are noisy and I couldn’t sleep.”
“What’re you doin’?” I hear Hendrix’s voice coming from behind me.
Of course he chooses now to come over.
“I got stuck.”
He leans down, gripping my foot and trying to untangle it.
“How the hell did you get it so tangled?”
“I don’t know,” I mutter. “Trying to untangle it?”
He shakes his head, and crouches down, twisting my foot to try and get it out. I squirm and pull, and he slaps my thigh. “Stop moving.”
My mouth drops open. He stops moving, as if he realizes what he just did. Our eyes meet and we just stare, confused.
“Did you just…slap me?” I whisper, shocked.
“If you quit moving, I wouldn’t have had to,” he grunts, turning his focus back to the ropes.
My mouth hangs open.
“Close that, before I find good use for it,” he growls, lifting his dark eyes to meet mine. My skin tingles.
“Stand up, this will be easier if you do,” he orders. He stands, taking me with him, and I lose my balance when I accidentally try to lift the wrong foot. Hendrix reaches out, taking my shoulder and goes to take a step forward to steady me, only to realize he’s wrapped the rope around his ankle, and is now tangled too. As if in slow motion, we topple backwards. I scream, and land with a thump on the ground as the ropes surround me. Hendrix lands over me, but manages to put his hand down to stop me taking the force of his body. He’s pressing into me in places he really shouldn’t be.
“Fuck,” he curses, tugging his hand to try and untangle it.
“How the hell did you get tangled too?” I cry out, squirming.
“Stop fuckin’ squirming like that,” he orders, and I stop as soon as I realize why he’s asked me to. He’s hard. My God, he’s hard.
“You’re…you’re…”
“I’m fuckin’ hard because you’re squirming against me. I’m a man. Get over it.”
I gape up at him, and he gives me a determined glare before tugging one of his hands, and freeing it. He reaches down and untangles my hand, and I shift to try and move my feet.
“Stop fuckin’ moving, you’re tangling us again.”
“Well, I can’t just lay here and not move,” I protest. “Why don’t you just get up and let me figure myself out.”
“If I leave it up to you, I’ll come back next week to a bag of rotting bones.”
“That’s mean,” I snap.
“Stop fucking squirming,” he hisses.
I didn’t realize I was squirming again. I try to stop myself, and I let him focus on untangling us. Stopping has me focusing on his erection pressing against my thigh, and that’s really not a good thing. I close my eyes and try to focus on anything else but the way his body is flexing and moving against mine.
“Errr, boss?”
We both turn our heads to see Drake staring down at us.
“Drake, cut these fuckin’ ropes,” Hendrix barks.
“Yes boss,” he says, but I can hear the humor in his voice.
“It’s not funny, Drake,” I snap.
He doesn’t answer; he just cuts us free. After Hendrix pulls himself to his feet he reaches down and pulls me up too. I kick the strands off my foot, and refuse to meet his gaze as I hurry off.
“Thank you would be nice,” Hendrix yells.
“Thank you,” I cry, and scurry down the stairs.
God, could it get any worse?
Ahoy, me heartie!
I hide in shame for the remainder of the day. My cheeks flush every time I think about my little moment with Hendrix. I decide today I won’t go and see Eric; I just need to think. When night falls, I go to bed early, trying to avoid any confrontation. I’m becoming bored and desperate, and the only thing I can do is sleep. Tonight, however, sleep isn’t happening. I just can’t settle, and my body is restless. I decide after much debate, to make a dash to the kitchen. I need milk. It fixes all my sleeping problems.
I climb off the sofa and sneak out to the kitchen. When I get inside, I flick on the light and tiptoe in until I reach the fridge. Opening it, I ruffle through until I find a bottle of milk. I take it out, and pour some into a glass before popping it into the microwave. I hit 30 seconds, and wait. The ship is noisy this evening. I guess the guys decided it was time to party. The microwave dings, and I pull my warm glass out, swishing it around before bringing it to my lips. The warm liquid soothes my dry throat, and I sigh.
I turn to head back out, when the kitchen door swings open and Hendrix comes stumbling in. Oh magic, he’s drunk. He doesn’t notice me at first, and walks over to the cupboard, opening it to pull out a packet of crackers. I clear my throat, and he spins, sending crackers flying across the floor. I snort a laugh, and wrap both of my hands around my milk to stop it from spilling.
“What the…?” he mutters.
His eyes are glassy, so my guess is that he’s had more than just a few. I hold up the glass. “Just getting milk. You guys are noisy and I couldn’t sleep.”
