Life Interrupted Page 11

  “Why?” she rasps.

  “Because she left me no choice.”

  I cradle her head on my lap, smoothing her hair away from her face, as she drifts to her final sleep.

  My first murder.

  Well, technically, it’s my third, but Holly’s parents were more of a retribution than murder.

  Maddening joy surrounds me, electrocuting the air with my every breath. Eventually, that too dissipates, and all the girl has done is stir the growing desire in me to find Holly. The hunter in me rejoices, knowing the hunt is almost as good as the kill. Only, this time, I won’t be hunting deer or rabbit.

  I’m hunting Holly. She is the only one who can restore me.

  I slowly inhale and exhale, reminding myself not to hyperventilate. But the mouthpiece feels weird in my mouth, and the whole notion of breathing underwater seems surreal. I know my eyes have multiplied five times their normal size, but hell, I’m breathing underwater. If that isn’t a freak-out moment, I don’t know what is.

  Breathe in and out, I remind myself, keeping a cautious eye on the gauge to make sure I don’t run out of oxygen.

  Travis and I practiced my scuba lessons with a professional in one of the island’s marina swimming pools for two weeks before we ventured to the open sea. The swimming pool gave me a false sense of security that doesn’t exist twenty feet below the water’s surface where the barracudas and sharks live—not that I’ve seen any sharks, but I’m sure they’re preying near us, just waiting for the slightest indication of distress so that they can strike.

  Travis thinks my imagination is a bit too animated, and I don’t argue with him. My many drawings suggest that I’m an artist, and artists should have a healthy dose of imagination. Despite my protests, he’s stuck around, so that must mean something.

  We’ve spent a lot of time together since my spectacle of temporary insanity on the beach. I didn’t think I’d see him again. Seriously, who wants to spend their days with a person whose brain has derailed into a world no one can follow?

  We haven’t spoken again about my entrapment or my memory loss. We just spend time together, and when I lose control, he helps me re-collect myself and then pretends my freak-out moment is normal, as if it were a part of everyone’s everyday life.

  We’ve gone back to the abandoned airport a few times, and it’s become one of my favorite spots, especially after a makeshift candlelit dinner comprised of flashlights sitting on the corners of the towels we used as a blanket for our little picnic. Travis had barbecued steaks while I’d made us a potato salad and mac and cheese. It wasn’t just any kind of mac and cheese though. It was my mom’s recipe, which I’d found while rummaging through the pantry. I’d followed the instructions and chopped onions, bell peppers, and garlic, and then I’d mixed them into a pot of Velveeta Cheese and milk that I’d spread over the elbow noodles once they were tender. I had taken a bite before dinner and commended my mother on her ingenuity.

  I wouldn’t call our dinner romantic although it had all the elements for romance. It was more of a relaxing evening filled with laughter and teasing. My desire to be in Travis’s strong arms never came to fruition, the extent of my need incomprehensible. But after hearing my tales of woe, he decided it would be better to take things slow.

  Too slow, but still terrifyingly blinding.

  We’ve continued to kiss, sweet long kisses that melt away every one of the defenses I’ve built. And we hold hands with occasional hugs that always end too quickly, my flesh burning for more contact. So, I have continued to read my mom’s sexually explicit literature and go to bed, thinking about Travis and his slender long fingers touching me. Venturing into my soul, discovering the depth of it.

  Underwater, with my scuba gear strapped to my back, I don’t think about Travis though. I actually don’t think about anything but my breathing. Overwhelmed, I’m about to go back to the surface so that I no longer have to feel the pressure of the tank on my back, but Travis grabs ahold of my hand and leads me to a large reef system. Just what I need, to be closer to the fishes’ village where they can peer out of their homes and insult me for trespassing.

  Grasping his hand, I have to remind myself that I trust not only Travis, but also myself. I am a competent, strong woman, who can surely survive being underwater for longer than God intended us to be. The reef system opens up into what looks like a cave, and I swim through the openings until we’re inside, surrounded by coral. Captivated by the colors and nature’s intricate artwork, I swim deeper than I originally planned on, leaving Travis’s side, until I come face-to-face with a fish whose head is the same size of my body. I jerk backward, slamming my body into Travis. Bubbles escape through his mouthpiece as he laughs at me so I flip him the bird and swim away, determined not to let the larger-than-life man-eating fish intimidate me.

  Travis follows me, probably afraid my psychosis might set in, and I wonder if he has some sort of hero complex. It would explain why he’s interested in me. I want to go deeper, but the minimal light inside our cave has reached its limit, and I can barely see my hand when extended in front of me. With Travis by my side, I turn around, careful to avoid the fish I saw earlier. The smaller fish don’t frighten me, so I continue to explore the part of the cave that is still well lit, and I watch the world below me in motion. Only when I see an eel peer out of its hole do I decide that I’ve had enough of this particular world, and I head back up to the surface.

  When we reach the surface, Travis helps me pull my gear off, but he leaves me with strict orders to stay in the water as he climbs into the boat. Once on board, he starts throwing fruity cereal into the water, and I stare at him, as if he were the one who’s mad. I don’t have time to question him before I’m surrounded by fish, tiny fish that I reach out to as they swim around me. Travis sits on the stern with his feet in the water and hands me a few pieces of cereal, which I hold in between my fingers in the hopes of hand-feeding one of my new friends.

  The fish are fearless and swim up to me, tickling my skin with their gentle nibbles. I admire their courage and willingness to approach the unknown, trusting it won’t hurt them. When I look up at Travis, I find him watching me. The sun gleams against his wet body, the disarray of his dark hair calls to me to stroke my fingers through each strand. Want fills me. To trust him with not only the words that come so easily out of my mouth, but also with my body. I want to give it all to him.

  Mustering up the courage I need, I leave the fish behind without a second glance, and I swim up to Travis, easing between his legs before lifting myself onto the boat. Travis just watches me, his body rigid, his throat bobbing. When he doesn’t make any movement to touch me, I move back, doubt creeping with every second he wastes not putting his hands on me.

  Conflict crosses his beautiful face when he peers back at me. With water dripping off my skin, I sit on his lap and kiss his neck, running my tongue along his skin, tasting the salt from our earlier swim. He remains still, unwilling to touch me, but my mind goes wild with fear and desire clashing into one another until I feel I might break. But I push forward because I want this. I deserve this.

  I trace my lips over his face until my mouth finds his, gently licking them until his lips part, finally taking me. He slips his tongue into my mouth, the muscles on his upper arm tightening when I grip them.

  When we pull apart from each other, I inhale a cleansing breath, calming my scattered nerves.

  Travis sends a careful gaze in my direction and only hesitates a second before he lifts me in his arms and carries me to the cabin below deck. The space is small with only a bed, but that’s all we need.

  He leaves the cabin door open, so plenty of sunlight enters the room and lays me on the bed where he climbs on top of me.

  His body towers over me and when he looks down, he caresses my cheek with a soft brush of his knuckles. So fierce and strong, but gentle and caring.

  I run my hands over his bare chest, feeling his heart pounding just as fast as mine. From below us, the w
ater slaps against the hull, its rhythmic beat lulling me while the sight of Travis excites me. He lowers his face to mine until our lips meet again, and with his tongue dancing with mine, he unties the top of my bikini with one swift move.

  His lips move from mine, his eyes tracing my naked body. My nerves rattle deep inside my stomach when he places kisses down my neck, until his hot breath hit my breast, which immediately pebble at the sudden contact. He’s gentle and with slow movements, I’m able to predict his every motion.

  Still, I lose my control. My mind. And surrender.

  Where I’m a frenzied mess of lust, Travis is calm and patient, and the mixture unhinges any lucid thoughts I had.

  I battle with my mind, reminding it that I want this as much as my body does. Over and over again, like a chant, I tell myself, there is nothing to fear.

  I pull at Travis’s shorts, wanting to see and touch more, and I don’t protest when he removes the bottom part of my bikini. With a satisfied smirk playing on his face, his fingers, those fingers I’ve become obsessed with, go inside me, sending a feverish passion throughout my body. Burning for him, for his touch, for the clash of our lips crashing into each other, I squirm at the tension growing between my legs, but I patiently watch as he removes his shorts.

  An upheaval of emotion whirs around us, frenzied energy that clings to us. I take him into my shaky hand and stroke the tip of his cock. On a harsh intake of breath he slams his lips onto mine.

  “Travis, please,” I mumble into his mouth, my voice needier than I intended.

  A groan born of pleasure vibrates from his throat reaching me as he impatiently puts on a condom. Before he goes inside me, he whispers my name and places his lips on top of mine. I moan out his name, pushing my pelvis upwards, welcoming him.

  At first, his movements are just as devastatingly slow as before, and it’s easy to match his tempo. He kisses my face as I grab the back of his head, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop. My hands are everywhere. Touching, exploring. His muscles twitch beneath my hungry fingers.

  I whisper his name, my voice pleading for more, because he’s all that I can think about. Emotions burn behind my eyes so I close them painfully shut.

  We move together faster, his left hand cradling my face so I open my eyes to him. Intensity brims from behind his eyes and I stop breathing as we watch each other. With my nails digging into his shoulder, I scream his name while his hand caresses the nape of my neck. After a few final jerky thrusts, Travis rests his forehead to mine. Together, we catch our breath.

  Rolling me over so that I’m lying on top of him, he runs his fingers over my upper arm, leaving a blazing trail in the wake of such a simple touch. Playfully, he bites my bottom lip.

  “Not too shabby?” Travis asks me after a moment.

  “Mediocre at best,” I tease him.

  He lifts his head from my chest and bites my chin, stirring even more desire inside me. My eyes cloud over, divulging my lie, and Travis smiles back at me.

  “Mediocre?” He assails my breast with his teeth and tongue, tugging and pulling, until I’m once again out of breath.

  “Yeah,” I gasp. “You have potential.”

  With his eyes set on my body, I let him take complete control over me, living out a fantasy in which I play a normal girl living out a regular life. His fingers stroke me while his teeth graze over my convulsing body until all I can do is whimper his name. He teases my body, bringing me so close to ecstasy, only to ease away from my climax. My body is torn between enjoying the torture and needing the frenzied delirium to reach its end. No longer gentle, I jerk under Travis’s hands. Pleasure rumbles from his throat when my wild eyes meet his. On a cry, I release the flames inside me and look up at his satisfied face.

  “That was better.” More than satisfied, I smile at him.

  Intense eyes track over my face as he brushes a strand of my hair away. My body reacts when his tongue slips from between his lips, wetting them.

  “Next time…” he trails off, not bothering to finish his sentence as my breath catches when he trails his fingers down my neck.

  Before I drift to sleep, Travis lies down beside me, and he wraps me in his arms. His chest is against my back, making it so that his heart beats against me. His heartbeat—that is the last thing I think about before I submit to sleep.

  In the cabin, I open my eyes to find myself alone, in the dark, and my stomach churns in panic. With my hands and feet free, I know that I’m safe, and I quickly remember where I am. With that realization, I smile. I had sex, amazing sex with a beautiful man.

  I crawl out of bed, covering myself with the bed sheet, to find Travis on deck, sitting on the bow, as he watches the sun set. I want to wrap myself around him, leaving little room between our bodies, but he looks pensive, and I don’t want to disturb his private moment.

  “Princess,” he calls out to me, the deep sound of his laughter rolling from him, and I shake my head at his nickname for me.

  “Hi, Thor,” I respond.

  He raises his eyebrows at me, so I shrug my shoulders. If he doesn’t know how well he’s built, I’m not going to tell him.

  I sit down next to him, and he puts his hands around my waist, pulling me closer to him.

  “What were you thinking about?” I ask since I’ve already intruded on his privacy.

  He kisses my forehead. “How I got here.”

  I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t.

  “So, how did you get here? Don’t say, by boat,” I add.

  He laughs. “It’s a long story.”

  I wait for him to continue.

  “It’s really not that interesting.”

  His laughter booms in the air, but his unease is palpable, so I rest my head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat while he continues to hold me. He sighs, a sigh so heavy and full of grief that my heart hurts for him.

  “I was actually born out on the ocean, and I was found by the beach right there.” He points ahead.

  I follow his finger to a small island just out of sight.

  “No one knows for sure who my parents are or what happened to them. All we know is that a small raft arrived on that island with just a screaming naked baby in it. Some of the island people found me and took me in.” He shrugs his shoulders, as if his story didn’t just shatter my heart.

  He pulls me closer to him until I’m sitting on his lap, so I rest my head on his shoulder, still unable to think of anything to say to him.

  Could he and his family have been Cuban refugees?

  I’m not good at geography, so I’m not sure if it’s even possible for a raft from Cuba to end up on an island by Harbour Island, but it’s the only logical explanation—unless they came across some pirates who took their boat and sent them away on a raft. But do pirates even exist anymore?

  Travis pulls me away from him and looks at my face that must show the sorrow I feel for his family and him, an infant lost at sea. If they were refugees, his parents must have been so desperate to find freedom that they risked their lives and ultimately lost the battle. But at least he survived.

  My eyes widen when I realize how easily Travis could have lost his life in the sea, and I turn my head away from him, so he can’t see my tears.

  Then, he suddenly bursts into laughter. “Your face.” He continues to laugh and throws his head back as the laughter takes over his body.

  I look back at him, confused.

  “You should see your face! I can’t believe you bought that story.”

  My mouth drops as I slowly realize what he’s saying. “You made that story up?” The prick!

  “I didn’t think you’d believe it.”

  He continues to laugh in my face while I squirm in his arms, trying to get away from him.

  “Why wouldn’t I believe it?” I shout, not feeling the anger behind my voice.

  “Don’t be mad, Holly.” His voice sounds deceptively sincere.

  I almost let him off the hook until I see his half grin star
ing back at me.

  “You’re a jerk,” I mutter, folding my arms in front of my chest. I purposely don’t look at him, so I won’t start to laugh along with him.

  He kisses the side of my face and moves to my ear where he whispers, “I can give you something to jerk.”

  I turn my head and bite his shoulder. When he lets go of me, I jump to my feet and run to the other side of the boat. My heart pounds in my chest, but for once, it isn’t out of fear. Instead, it’s reminding me that I’m alive, and I have something to live for. My eyes are wild when they land on Travis, who is slowly stalking toward me.

  “You bit me,” he accuses and I stifle a giggle.

  “You lied to me,” I shoot back.

  “Lied?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “I fabricated a story for entertainment purposes.”

  “Whose entertainment? Because I’m not entertained,” I lie.

  Travis closes the distance between us with one final step and puts his arms on my outer thighs, his fingertips grazing my ass. He lowers his lips to mine, and I welcome him in with a soft moan as I wrap my arms around his neck. He moves from my lips and presses gentle kisses on my neck until I lose the ability to speak. All I can do is feel—the tenderness behind his kisses, the warmth of his lips against my skin.

  “See?” He winks at me after breaking our kiss. “I knew you weren’t really mad at me.”

  After successfully boiling noodles and steaming vegetables, I wait for Travis and his supposedly famous meatballs as I stare out the kitchen window. It’s not my favorite scenery, but it’s still beautiful. While you can see the ocean from the kitchen, the window above the sink overlooks a small empty field beside the house where flowers and weeds have grown together, creating a sense of wildness I haven’t found in any of the manicured lawns on Harbour Island. I like the undomesticated touch the field adds to the otherwise perfection surrounding it. My eyes follow a seagull as it takes flight from the center of the field, and I let my mind wander, losing track of time in the process.