I tentatively follow him as he strides down the corridor towards the big room I heard the partying come from the other night. We arrive at a set of stairs and I frown at him.
“Up here.” He gestures to the stairs.
Oh my God. Where is he taking me? My heart is going to go into cardiac arrest at any moment. We get to the floor above us and he walks down the corridor and knocks on a door. My eyes widen and I take a step back. Oh no. What is he doing?
The door opens and a pretty blonde girl stands before us. “Hey, Mac.” She smiles sexily.
“Hey, Chels.” He gestures to me and her face falls. I fold my arms nervously in front of me. What’s a girl doing on this horror ship? “Have you got any clothes she can borrow?” he asks.
She looks me up and down and I shrivel on the spot. Who is this? She hesitates for a moment. “Yeah, I guess.” She opens the door and gestures for us to come in.
He grabs my hand and leads me into her room. I nervously look around as I cling tightly to his hand. There are mirrors on the wall and a fancy lace lightshade that hangs down low. A large bed. The room is feminine. Huh? Does she live on this ship? She disappears back into the bathroom and takes out her mascara and begins to apply it. “The clothes are in the wardrobe, help yourself,” she calls.
He opens the wardrobe and begins to search through drawers and pull things out as he inspects them.
Okay, what is going on here? I don’t understand this at all.
I glance into the bathroom and she is applying red lipstick. She’s wearing a tight, low-cut, black dress that leaves nothing to the imagination. She’s gorgeous. She reappears from the bathroom and puts her small, gold handbag over her shoulder. “I’ll meet you both up there.”
“Yeah, okay,” he calls after her, distracted at the task at hand.
She leaves the room and closes the door behind her.
I wait for a moment as he keeps looking at the clothes. “Who is she?” I ask.
“Chelsea,” he replies as he hands me some clothes.
“She lives on this ship?” I ask.
“Aha.”
I take the clothes he has passed to me.
“Put them on,” he demands.
I frown. I’m not getting dressed here in front of him.
He rolls his eyes. “In the bathroom.”
“Oh. Okay,” I whisper. I disappear into the bathroom and put on the clothes he has selected for me. A short, pink and purple tartan skirt with a dropped waist and box pleats, and a white flowing singlet with shoestring straps. I need a bra. I stick my head around the corner of the bathroom door and he looks up from his sitting positon on the bed. “Umm.”
“Umm, what?”
“I need some underwear,” I whisper through embarrassment.
He raises an eyebrow and tries to hide his smirk. He stands and rustles through a drawer and passes me a pair of panties. “You won’t fit her bra.” He smirks.
I stare at him blankly.
“She has big tits.”
“Oh.” Oh God, how embarrassing. I walk back into the bathroom, closing the door behind me to put on the white lace panties. I glance at myself in the mirror and cringe. I look like shit. I have a black eye and a small cut on the bridge of my nose. What must I have looked like four days ago when this first happened? I grab some concealer from her makeup bag and try to fix my face a little. I brush my long dark hair, which is frizzing to oblivion from his shitty shampoo, and I grab a hair band and tie it back into a high ponytail.
I walk back out into the room and his eyes drop to my feet and back up to my face, a trace of a smile crosses his face.
I hold my breath as I wait for his reaction.
His dark eyes slowly undress me.
He stands abruptly and steps forward, bringing him way too close. “You look edible,” he whispers as his huge frame invades my space.
I step back without thinking, our eyes locked on each other. My eyes drop to his tongue as it darts out to lick his bottom lip.
The hunter and his prey.
The electricity zaps between us.
“Do you want to stay alive pretty girl?” he asks as he dusts the backs of his fingers down my face.
I nod subtly. My eyes drop to the floor as his breathing becomes magnified. His fingers burn my skin.
“We need to show the crew who you belong to,” he whispers.
My eyes meet his and I frown. What is he talking about? The primal urge to kick him in the balls is overwhelming, but I know to stay alive I need him on my side.
He bends and puts his mouth to my ear and his breath causes goosebumps to scatter up my spine. I close my eyes in dismay. Damn it.
“I need to show my crewmates who you belong to.” His breath dusts my neck and I get a tingle all the way to my toes.
My horrified eyes meet his.
“Let’s see how good an actress you are,” he whispers darkly.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, if you want to survive, you need to play along.”
“Play along?” I frown.
“Play along that you’re mine,” he murmurs, distracted, his eyes following his fingers as he brushes them over my lips. “Pretend that you like me touching you.” His fingertips run down the length of my neck and I close my eyes. “Although you wouldn’t have to act much.” He leans in and gently kisses my ear. “Would you?” he whispers.
I drop my head in dismay, knowing I need to change the subject or I’m going to be on my back on that bed in one second flat.
He rubs his hand through my long ponytail and down over my breast.
My eyes rise to meet his and disgust fills me as I feel my nipples harden under his touch.
In seemingly slow motion he leans in and whispers in my ear. “You like my touch.” His breath on my neck sends goosebumps scattering down my spine again.
I shake my head nervously. “No, I… I don’t.” I stammer.
He rolls my nipple between his large fingers and it hardens even further.
Oh God.
“Yes, you do.” He growls before sinking his teeth into my ear.
“No,” I breathe as my knees feel like they might collapse beneath me.
“Liar,” he whispers as he licks my ear again.
Dear, God.
I close my eyes. “Please,” I hesitate as I try to think. “Please, leave me be.”
He grabs my jaw aggressively and pulls my face so that our eyes meet.
My fight instincts start to fire up but I try desperately to control them. Control it I remind myself. “Please,” I whisper.
His eyes drop to my lips and he smiles sardonically. “For now.” An uneasy feeling washes over me. I’m disturbed by the way my body reacts to him, the way my heart races when he looks at me. His touch is electric.
As if reading my mind, he smiles sexily and takes my hand and pulls me with him out the door.
* * *
We walk into the large, messy hall and I see everyone’s eyes lift as they see us. I feel sick. What the hell am I doing here? He towers above me and holds my hand in his. I glance around the room. To the right is a big kitchen where a male chef is cooking. In front are six tables and chairs where some people are eating. To the left is a super large plasma television. Lounges are in front of that and scattered in no particular order. At the back is a bar with a pool table and a table tennis table. The room is huge and nice… not at all what I was expecting. In fact, this whole ship isn’t what I was expecting. I thought container ships were supposed to be dirty and unkempt? I stand nervously as I await his instruction and he walks us over to the kitchen.
“Just two?” the chef calls.
I stare at the chef. Is he in on this? Will he help me?
“Thanks,” Mac replies.
He then leads me by the hand to the back bar and another man smiles from behind it. I step back when I see him. He is one of the men from the other night.
Mac feels my fear and puts his arm protectively around my shoulders.
I drop my eyes to the floor as I try to concentrate on the task at hand.
“What do you want to drink?” Mac asks.
“Diet Coke,” I reply without emotion.
I glance over to the pool table where I see six girls in sexy clothing playing. I frown. More girls… Oh, thank God. They will help me. I just need to talk to them alone. Mac tightens his grip around my shoulders. I glance around the room and see approximately fifteen men. Some I recognize, some I don’t. None of them are at all surprised to see me here. They all know I am taken and they don’t care.
What fucking kind of ship is this?
He gets our drinks and takes them over to the dining table area and pulls a chair out for me. I sit down. I can feel the eyes on my back. He sits down opposite me and picks up his Coke.
“You’re drinking Coke?” I ask. Every night this week he has come back to the room smelling of beer or Scotch. Why is tonight different?
“I’m on call tonight,” he replies.
“Oh.” I frown. I forget this is actually a job.