I am a blank canvas that even the artist in me doesn’t know how to fill. My life started the day I escaped and woke up in the hospital.
Escaped from reality. Escaped from fear. Escaped from him.
Nothing exists before that, and as the days trickle by, I’m positive there’s nothing after that either.
I try though. For Poppa, who hasn’t left my side since I woke up, I try to live.
But every attempt is futile. So I escape again and start fresh on a small island, where there aren’t any expectations to fulfill. Where family and friends I don’t remember can’t look at me with sadness and disappointment.
And when Travis Keillar comes into my life everything changes. The memories I’ve lost become unimportant to the memories I’m creating with him. For the first time since I opened my eyes that fateful day in the hospital, life smiles back at me.
Until it doesn’t.
Until he comes back for me.
For revenge of crimes I don’t remember committing.
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 lies me on the bed where he climbs on top of me.
His body towers over me and when he looks down at me, 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 water 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. I remind 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 an upheaval of 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 pelvic 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 touch.
I whisper his name, my voice pleading for more, because he is 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.
Yessi Smith lives in South Florida with her husband, seven-year-old son, and newborn baby. She is also owned by a neurotic border collie and “ferocious” rottweiler.
She has a bachelor’s degree in business management and a master’s in human resource management. She has held several jobs, from picking up dog poop to upper management positions. Now, she hopes to leave the business world behind, so she can live full-time in a world that does not exist until she places her fingers on a keyboard and brings it to fruition.