32. Downpour
Chapter 32
Downpour
Haley
C alvin’s hand is still in my pants, but I’m doubled over his arm like a rag doll. A dirty, filthy rag doll. Who wants nothing more than for him to fuck me hard. His fingers are big and ruthless, and I want more. I’m not sure if it’s my nerves over being stuck on this island, the guys, or the ocean breeze, but I’ve never had need build so high in me before. It’s like the whole island is an aphrodisiac.
“Give it to me, Haley.” His gruff words send goosebumps down my neck and arm. He slides another finger into me, changing the pressure, and I break apart. I shake until my hands fall forward to the sandy log in front of me, my ass high in the air.
Calvin removes his fingers, but a firm grip on my hips keeps me from collapsing. He tugs up my pants and slides his large palm over my ass. I push back into his hand. I want more. I want to touch him, but I know that if I try, he’s going to shut me down.
His rough hand helps me up. He’s licking me off his index finger. I throw myself at his chest. This close, I have to tilt my chin far up to look him in the eyes. I’m not sure what I’ll see there—indifference, disdain?
But it’s confusion. “They’re waiting in the raft for you.” He nods at our makeshift home.
I suck my lip in. This is so confusing. Calvin acts like he wants me. I hug him. His broad shoulders freeze. “Listen, I’m not giving up hope. You’ve got good points. You’re a man of reason. But we can solve each of the problems. You don’t throw away a boat engine if it needs new spark plugs.”
“You might if no one makes replacements.”
“Well then, we’ll just have to think outside of the box, because there’s already a damn cat in it.”
He kisses my nose. “I can try.”
“You promise? Not just with your words, but in here and here?” I touch his thick hair and then his heart.
“No. I can’t promise that. Because I never make a promise that I can’t keep. But I’ll try. I’ll try really hard.”
I smile at the word “hard” and slide my hand down to his cock. But he catches it.
“If you’re still bored, I’m sure Zane and Easton can find something for you to do.”
I step back from Calvin, my brow furrowed and the confusion pulsing through me.
“Don’t you go overthinking now. There aren’t any rules here. You said it yourself.”
“And you reminded me there is a rule.”
“Stay alive.” Calvin nods at me. “Yeah, well, if I thought you were in danger, I wouldn’t let them anywhere near you.” Even in the dim light, I see the sincerity on his face. “Go to bed, Haley. I have work to do.”
“I’m not tired yet.” I sit down on the same log that Calvin sits on, the one facing the ocean, with the best view for spotting boats and planes. I don’t really believe he’s given up on being rescued. If he had, why would he try so hard to keep the fire going and stay up all night doing the watch? Unless... I glance at the raft. Is he worried about seeing something or hearing something to do with me? No. He doesn’t care that much about me, or he’d let me touch him.
He stares at me and the log and then sits down. There isn’t room for both of us, so I duck my head under his arm and pull myself as close to him as possible.
“I need to keep watch now.” He puts another log on the fire. “You can stay up until the moon rises. It’s too dark to use my knife now, anyway.” And he lifts me into his lap. It’s a small victory, but I’ll take it.
The air rushes out of my lungs, and I want to tell him I can stay up until I want to. There are no rules on this island. But then I remember his caveat: stay alive. And I keep my mouth shut.
He reaches behind him and pulls on his shirt. I lean forward and help to smooth the shirt down his rugged abs. The firelight bounces off his skin. He’s glowing, and his tan arms flex around me as he periodically pokes at the fire. I’m sure if I wasn’t out here, he’d be carving in the dark or pacing the beach getting different angles of the horizon. But I’m cozy and no way am I moving unless he makes me. I’m doing his safety a service by making it impossible for him to hurt himself.
The thud of his heart in one ear and the rushing of the waves in the other makes me drowsy. When he smooths my hair down the back of my head, my eyes close. The wind whips around our beach, but Calvin’s got enough heat for the two of us.
I’m almost asleep when he stands with me still in his arms. I’ve never thought of myself as small, but nuzzled against his chest, I’m like a child. “Let me stay up with you for a little longer.”
He looks down at me. “Fine, but the moon is rising and I need to work.”
I smile at the pile of sticks next to his seat. That pile of wood isn’t for someone who thinks they are going to die. “Good. You work. I’ll watch the horizon.” I sit on the rock next to the log we shared.
“Haley. I like you, but we’re not a thing.” He picks up a stick and sharpens the end.
“I get it.” I do. My stomach doesn’t, but I do. My eyes are on the horizon, but I turn to watch him. He nudges my leg with his foot and points to the water. I turn back to the ocean. “How far can we see, anyway?” I’ve wondered this before, but I’m not usually on the deck of a yacht, just hanging around. There is always something to do.
“From here, three miles. But from our platform when it’s finished, twenty, maybe more.”
“Okay. The platform is going to be a good thing.” I nod. Watching the horizon, I scan back and forth like back in my high school lifeguarding days. The moon is getting brighter, but then I see a little fleck of light. My heart races and the little speck is gone. I blink and squint, focusing on the spot. Did I imagine it? But it’s back.
“Calvin, there.” I point. Stumbling up as quickly as possible, I round to the other side of him to get the flare gun. It’s on the rock Dante uses as a counter.
But Calvin is quicker; he has it in his hand. “Where?”
“Right there.” I take his hand and point where I saw it. “Shoot the gun!” I’m jumping up and down, the pain of my ankle absent with the adrenaline of the light. He’s holding it, staring at the water. “Shoot it off, Calvin. What are you waiting for?” I’m staring at him, not the light. I look back and the light is gone. I’m dying inside. “Shoot.”
His eyes are focused. I know he’s looking in the right spot. A white light appears and then disappears again. It’s small, so small. It has to be as far as we could possibly see from here.
“The light is white and there’s only one.”
“So. Fire the damn gun, Calvin.” I want to take the thing out of his hand, but my training told me they’re like a regular gun and misfire could kill someone.
“That’s the aft light of a small boat. It’s after midnight. The chances of someone looking out the rear are next to none.”
“But not none, Calvin. Not none.”
“We only have four shots.”
“But we have four shots. Sometimes good things happen, Calvin. Take a chance. Please.” The white dot is gone.
“What’s going on?” Zane holds the flap open. He sticks his hand outside, and then his eyes flick to the flare gun that Calvin holds. The fire is going strong, and the moon is rising. Crabs are scurrying around the outside of our fire ring, waves crashing. Time seems to stand still.
“Did you see a boat?” Zane asks loud enough to wake anyone in the raft.
“There’s a boat?” Easton echoes from behind Zane.
Calvin stares out into the night. “It’s heading away from us,” he calls over to Zane.
In an instant, Zane is by my side. “You’re sure it’s going away from us?”
Now we’re four across, shoulder to shoulder, moving away from our fire. I can’t see the light anymore. Dante is next to us; only Easton hasn’t come out of the raft.
“There,” Zane yells. “Damn, it’s the white aft light. It must be small.” He shakes his head. “It’s too bad. It’s too bad.”
“What, a ship?” The sleep is gone from Easton’s voice as he steps out of the raft. His hair tousled, he stares at the four of us. “Fire the damn gun. Use the flare gun, Calvin!” Easton reaches for Calvin’s arm, but Zane steps in between the two of them.
“No, man. No, we’re not gonna fire the gun. They’ll never see it. They’re heading away from us. Look at the size of that speck. Do you see it?” Zane points to where the light had been flickering.
“I don’t see it.”
“Wait for it.” Calvin’s voice is steady. Two more beats, and the white dot appears. But it’s only there for a second. “The seas are rough out there. And they’re heading away from us. There’s no way they’re going to be looking for a flare on their tail. They’re smaller than the Rock Candy —a yacht, most likely. Hopefully not pirates. If they hadn’t gone away from us, they might eventually have come back toward us. But not tonight. Not with the coming storm.” The clouds are rolling in, and the moon darts in and out of them. It looks like it might rain.
Dante nods at Easton. “No, they wouldn’t see it if we fired the shot. It would waste one of the few we have.”
Easton glares at Calvin. I can see the uncertainty in his eyes. He wants to use the flare gun as much as I did before Calvin explained it.
Zane puts his hand on Easton’s arm. “They’ll never see it. They’re too small and too far away. To top it off, they’re not looking at us.” Zane says the same thing as Calvin and Dante, but now it’s sinking in.
“But you never know?” Easton mumbles.
We all stare at the spot the light was in, but it doesn’t reappear. None of us move. We watch the dark line of the horizon, the wind blowing the clouds in front of the moon.
Someone throws another log on the fire someone else started. More logs, more fire. “Let’s get the fire shade back over it,” Zane says, looking at the cloudy night sky. “It’s gonna rain.”
Calvin grabs one of the loose side windows from the raft, and Zane helps reposition it over the fire. Then thick, large raindrops start falling from the sky, ones and twos to begin with, but they soon flood together in the sand. We gather as much firewood as we can, putting it underneath the edge of the raft to keep it dry. Calvin gathers his tools, shuffling them under the rain cover. It isn’t much, just a sort of a tripod of long bamboo covered in palm fronds. We’ve been lucky so far, with no rain falling on us.
Zane moves containers around to pick up rainwater. We have the stream, but rainwater is even safer.
Drops turn to a downpour. The rain pelts down, hurting my bare shoulders. I pull my shirt up over my head. We all scurry around, picking things up and tucking them away. The jerky Dante made is in the tackle box hanging from the tree. We’re still not sure what else is out on the island, so we’re keeping food out of the raft as much as possible. No one wants to wake up next to a boar or rat.
We don’t have much, so it doesn’t take long to gather things. I dive into the raft after dusting my feet, getting as much sand off them as best as I can before Easton and Zane follow behind me. We’re all pulling off wet clothing. All the cushions and towels are in the raft. The way the wind shakes the raft cover, there is no way the fire is going to stay lit.
I crawl back over to the door. “Calvin, get in here. There’s no reason to be out there. You’re not going to be able to keep the fire lit.”
“She’s right,” Dante says over my shoulder.
But Calvin shakes his head.
“Come on, Little Bird. You’re letting the rain get in. He’s old enough to decide what he wants to do for himself. There’s no talking sense into him.” Zane lightly touches my shoulder and passes me a towel. “You use it first,” he says. “Then Easton and I will take a turn with it.”
I look around, and there are three towels. But they’ve set up one as a bed with a cushion. I’m a little shook up about seeing the boat, our potential rescue gone. But they’re right. I let my emotions go and get ahold of myself. If there was one boat, there could be more.
“Remember the rule, Calvin,” I say.
He looks at me, water pouring off his hair.
“Don’t drown.” I pull the flap down, closing myself in with Dante, Easton, and Zane.