37. Helen
Ifeel like I’ve been caught by the principal—or what I imagine it must feel like to be caught doing something wrong by an authority figure, since I don’t have much experience with that. Okay, any experience with that. I’m pretty sure my high school principal never even knew who I was. My grades were good but not stellar, I never got detention or ditched school or smoked in the bathroom or whatever else teenagers do to get in trouble. I don’t even have the imagination to guess what other kinds of things might get someone on the principal’s radar.
But somehow I have no trouble imagining Thad as the stern principal catching me doing something naughty. Calling me into his office. Telling me in that gruff, stern voice that I need to learn my lesson?—
Whoa. Where the heck did that come from?
Swallowing, I pivot to face him, hoping that absolutely none of that weird mental detour is showing on my face. Knowing my face, however, that hope is probably in vain. I do my best to smile, probably overcompensating with my cheerfulness, and wave at him for good measure. Okay, definitely overcompensating. “Hi, Thad! Funny meeting you here.”
“Is it?” he retorts, not looking in the least bit amused. “Is it funny?”
My whole body is on alert, bracing myself for the moment when he takes in my outfit. Half-anxious, half-hopeful that his eyes will linger like Shane’s did. But Thad doesn’t move his eyes from mine. He looks seriously pissed. And not in a fun-but-stern, spank-me-over-the-desk kind of way.
“I thought we agreed you were going to stay in the hotel,” he says to me through clenched teeth, the muscle in his jaw doing that flexy thing again.
I’m so not used to actually being in trouble that I feel myself dialing up my positivity, as if through sheer force of sunny willpower I can convince him not to be angry at me. “So actually, it is a funny story—the sorority girls sort of ambushed me and did a whole makeover thing. That’s why I’m here, wearing barely any clothes.”
I wait to see if he’ll take the bait, finally check out my outfit, but his eyes remain locked on mine, and his face remains unsmiling. I give a nervous laugh. “I guess it’s more situationally funny than humorously funny.”
Thad’s eyes flash at me. “You need to get off this boat. There are other people on board who really don’t want me taking Dean into custody. I can’t have you getting in the way, distracting me.”
His tone wipes the uneasy smile from my face. I no longer feel the need to diffuse the tension, because now I’m pissed, too. “I’m not here to distract you—but if I am, I feel like that’s your problem, not mine. Because I’m here to help my brother and make sure he stays safe.”
Thad inhales sharply through his nose, stepping in closer to me. That muscle in his jaw jumps, like he’s clenching his teeth, hard. “If you’re not here to distract me, then why the fuck did you wear this dress?”
I still haven’t seen him actually look at what I’m wearing. But that look in his eyes, the closeness of his body, makes me feel more undressed than any single piece of clothing ever could.
“Helen, here’s your drink.”
I startle, turning to see that Shane is back, with my white wine in hand. He offers Thad one of his winsome smiles—though something about it seems a little strained. Calculated. “Hey, buddy,” he says to Thad, as if just noticing him. “Glad you could join us. Sorry I didn’t bring you a drink, too.”
Shane steps in unnecessarily close to me. Too disoriented to think better of it, I take the drink he’s handing to me. As soon as Shane’s hand is free, he touches my arm. “You okay? Things seemed a little…heavy when I walked up.”
I open my mouth to respond, but Thad cuts me off, taking me by surprise by closing his hand over my arm that’s closest to him. “Fuck off, Shane. We’re in the middle of a conversation.”
Shane responds by closing his hand over my other arm. “Language, Thaddeus. The fair Helen of Troy is present.” Despite his light tone, Shane is glaring at Thad over my head, and his grip on me tightens.
What the Hootie and the Blowfish is happening…? I don’t fully understand the exchange going on between these two men—I mean, I get they’re having some kind of pissing contest, but I’m not sure how I got dragged into the middle of it. And I’m a little worried they’re actually about to start playing tug-of-war with my body.
“Hey, do I get a say in this?” I let stern-inner-city-teacher Helen’s voice come out. “Or is it inconvenient when the fire hydrant has an opinion?”
Shane frowns at me. “There’s a fire hydrant on board?”
Thad, at least, loosens his hold on me, though his expression doesn’t become any less intense. “Do you want me to leave you with Shane?”
My mouth runs dry. Honestly, I’m a little scared of Thad’s ferocity. Goofball Shane is a much more familiar, digestible alternative to…whatever is going on right now between Thad and me.
Shane must sense this, because I can hear the smirk in his voice as he trails his hand down my arm. “Come on, Helen. I, for one, would love to have your help finding your brother. And whatever else the night might bring…”
My body makes the decision for me. Shane’s innuendo, the feeling of his fingers trailing down my skin, making me shiver—and not in a good way. I instinctively step in closer to Thad to get away from him.
Thad responds by putting his hand on the small of my back. It’s a protective, almost primitive gesture—like he’s announcing to anyone who might be looking, and Shane most especially, This is my woman. Back off.
I shouldn’t find this absolutely thrilling. But I do.
“Come on,” Thad says curtly, steering me through the crowd, and putting as much distance between us and Shane as possible.
I expect him to comment about Shane as soon as we’re out of earshot, but Thad is completely silent as he guides me off the main deck and into the interior of the ship. He seems to know where he’s going, so maybe his silence is just due to his concentration, but I’m not very good with silences. Especially not tense, angry silences. It was one of my major failings as a sister, and not in a fun, “How do you solve a problem like Maria” kind of way. At least, I’m pretty sure nobody ever sang a song about how much I annoyed everyone around me during times of silent meditation with my complete and utter inability to shut up.
“This is a big ship,” I hear myself saying, almost like a disembodied voice coming from someone else entirely. “How old do you think it is? It looks like the one from Show Boat, but like it’s been updated? I wonder if there’s a whole market for boat renovators. You know, like the people who flip old houses on HGTV, but boats instead. I’d totally watch that show!”
Thad leads me through a series of hallways that I could definitely not find my way through again on my own, until we wind up in an empty, darkened room. The room opens up onto a balcony that overlooks the water below; some of the lights from elsewhere on the boat make it so the room isn’t pitch black, but it’s dark enough that I have to carefully make my way around so I don’t trip over anything. That proves to be a moot point, though, since there doesn’t seem to be anything inside.
Thad shuts the door behind him and locks it with a heavy click.
Turning in surprise, I swallow. “What are you doing? Is Dean in here?”
I know it’s a stupid question as soon as it leaves my mouth. It’s an empty room, with no closets or cabinets or furniture, so unless Dean is under an invisibility cloak, there’s no one else in here. Thad stands with his back pressed to the door, his eyes following me in the shadows. “Dean isn’t on board. I’ve searched all the decks, every room, twice. He isn’t here.”
I blink in surprise, worrying my lip with my teeth. “Do you think something happened?”
“I hope not. But we can figure it out once we’re off the boat. Not much we can do now.”
I swallow again. “So what is this room, anyway?”
“I think it’s usually used as a private playing room. But not tonight.”
“Oh.” So no one will be coming into this room for the next two and a half hours. It’s just Thad and me, and the door is locked.
Abruptly, I turn, moving to the balcony. There’s an overhang above us, so I can’t see any of the higher decks, but I can hear faint music and laughter trickling down from the top deck, where the pool is. “Do you want to go swimming?” I ask hopefully.
“Don’t have my suit.”
“Oh,” I say again, stupidly. My heart is racing, my mouth dry. I focus on the dark water down below. “That’s the Mississippi River, right? Do you think there are alligators down there?”
Of course it’s the Mississippi River, and of course there are alligators. It’s Louisiana, and it’s a big body of water. But I couldn’t stop the verbal bullet train coming out of my mouth if I tried.
I hear Thad approaching, and I grip the handrail as I feel him press in behind me. Brushing into the softness of my backside, he starts to harden against me, growling a little under his breath. “I honestly haven’t thought about it. At all,” he murmurs, his breath warm against the back of my neck.
“Thad,” I gasp, gripping the handrail more tightly.
“Do you want me to stop?” He reaches up to touch the ends of my ponytail with a surprising gentleness.
“No,” I admit, then shake my head. “Maybe. I…I don’t want you to do this because you feel sorry for me.”
A pause. “Sorry for you?”
“The nun virgin, who’s never done anything.” I take in a shaky breath. “I don’t want to be pitied.”
Another pause, then Thad laughs, just a little. “Are you serious?”
That makes me frown—at the dark water, since I’m caged in by his body and can’t turn to look at him. “Yes. I have some pride, you know?—”
“I don’t pity you,” he cuts me off. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop thinking about all the things I want to do to you. That only I wouldget to do to you. I want to be touching you all the time. I want to make you feel good.” His lips brush over my shoulder, and I shiver. “Will you let me make you feel good?”
A moment passes, where all I can hear is the rushing water below, and the pounding of my heart in my ears. “O-okay,” I say at last, so quietly I’m afraid that maybe he didn’t hear it.
But he must have, because the next thing I know, his fingers are dipping into the holes at the shoulder of the fishnet dress, finding the ties holding the bikini top together. “This fucking ridiculous bathing suit.” His breath is hot against me. “I wanted to tear it off the moment I saw you.” He sounds completely sure, confident, but I feel his fingers shaking a little bit, and it makes my breath catch in my throat.
“Oh,” I say, stupidly. All night, I haven’t been able to shut up, and now I can’t think of a single thing to say. All the energy in my body is channeled into the feeling of him pressed against me, his hot words against my ear, his fingers tugging at my clothing.
A moment later, I feel the bikini give. He tugs it some more, and it drops to the ground. Except for the flimsy fishnet dress, my breasts are completely bare in the night air. Thad takes one in each hand and groans into my neck as he massages them. The thumb of his left hand works into the fishnet material of the dress, finding my hardened nipple and circling it, circling it.
A jolt of want courses through me, straight down to my core. “Oh,” I breathe, instinctively arching back into his touch. I want more of it, whatever is happening to me. I feel greedy for it, needy for it, in a way that my logical mind is telling me should be embarrassing, but the aching inside of me won’t let me be self-conscious. He’s opened something inside of me that I understand will forever be left wanting if it isn’t seen through to the end.
Thad groans in response to me pressing back against him, and it’s a jolting reminder yet again that his actions aren’t prompted by pity. He wants this, needs this, as much as I do. “Your body,” he mutters into my ear. “Your fucking body. It’s a sin it’s been hidden away for so long. Your body deserves to be worshiped.”
I feel like Thad and I have changed places. A moment ago he was dead silent and I couldn’t stop talking. Now he’s saying the sweetest, naughtiest things to me and my mind is a total blank. Everything is being channeled toward that pressing want building up inside of me.
Thad’s right hand releases my breast, and I make a little whining noise in protest, but he just laughs into the crook of my neck. “You like that, huh? I bet it feels good. But I know other ways to make you feel good, too.”
He trails his knuckles down my side, spreading out his hand again to grip me at my hip. Those clever fingers wrangle their way inside the fishnet again, finding the ties for my bikini bottom. My breath catches, and he notices. “Too soon?”
“N-no,” I stammer, waiting for him to continue.
But he holds back, a little laughter now in his quiet murmur against my skin: “You want me to touch your pussy?”
Even the naming of it sends a spike of hot want through me. I can tell he’s waiting for an answer. “Yes,” I manage finally in a whisper.
“Good. Because I can’t wait to touch your pussy. I can’t wait to feel how wet you are for me.”
Lord, give me strength. My head is spinning. I grip the handrail even tighter.
“But first”—Thad guides me back from the railing—“I want to see you.”
He turns me around to face him, and my breath catches in my throat as our gazes collide. Everything up until now has been intoxicating, incredible, but facing him now, the intensity is instantly heightened. Keeping my gaze, he tugs at the string holding up one side of the bikini bottoms, then at the other. After a moment the strings give, and I feel the fabric slide down my legs and onto the deck. His gaze finally lowers, and I watch his face as he takes in my body, the way his jaw clenches and he gives a long, slow swallow.
“Holy Jesus,” he mutters.
But as his eyes meet mine again, I can see that he’s at last run out of things to say. I turn my face up instinctively as he leans in to kiss me, his hands burning through the flimsy fishnet to my skin beneath, his body pressing me up against the railing.
The kiss is consuming, and in any other circumstance, I would have been totally lost in it. But just a moment ago, he promised to touch my pussy, and the now-aching need down there is drowning out every other sensation in my body. I whimper, shamelessly rubbing up against him, and he finally breaks away from the kiss, looking a little dazed and disoriented for a moment before laughing under his breath, pressing his forehead to mine. “You need me?” he asks simply.
The first brush of his fingers over my folds is an electric shock to my system. I buck and moan, and when he touches me again, I cry out, overcome with it, this want, this need. “Thad!”
I’m not even sure what I’m asking him for, but he seems to intuitively understand. He slides one finger up into me, and that feels so good I could cry out again; and then he slides up a second, and that feels so good I do, my eyes flying open to find him watching my face intently as he slowly pumps his fingers in and out, in and out.
Some new pressure starts to build up inside of me, somehow even more powerful than what was already happening. It feels so good I’m starting to lose focus, but I know I need something else.
As if answering my unspoken request, his thumb snakes up, finding that little powerful detonator that’s been throbbing, throbbing this whole time, and sets it off.
I come apart so suddenly that it knocks the wind out of me. My whole body stiffens, tightens, and then releases.
Holy…holy shit.