Usual standard declarations about age, ownership etc. apply here.
Still here? Then I'm very pleased to see you again. You sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin...
If you read the first two chapters you're up to speed. If not then you're dragging behind. Give them a go! At least then you'll know something about what's going on, even if it's still a guessing game for most of us at this point. More back-story, more sex, more secrets and a few discoveries in this one. Ain't that always the way?
Listen...
CHAPTER THREE
Lachlan Reid awoke slowly after almost twenty four hours of sleep, the gentle rocking of the boat threatening to return him to slumber at every movement. He knew boats well, but from river and lake fishing, not the deep sea. He wondered idly whether he would get sea-sick before this craziness was over.
He felt a movement beside him, and turned his head to see Wren snuggling in next to him, her naked body alongside him a wonderful thing to wake up to. With a sigh, he settled back on the bed, and then sat up abruptly as he realised they still hadn't sorted anything out about the boat. They could be heading for rocks, into a storm or directly into the path of a supertanker -- and they still hadn't even found out where they were, whether the boat's motor worked, and if it did, if there was sufficient fuel for them to work with.
He automatically began to check his wound as he thought over their priorities. First of all -- the engine. If they could get that working, they could at least steer to some extent; hopefully enough to keep themselves out of danger.
Second -- navigation. He had to try and discover where they were, and decide where they wanted to go -- which raised a myriad of further questions. The boat had become their refuge from King Cole, but he had tentacles all along the east coast, so putting into any port or one of the myriad little harbours along the coastline might be placing them squarely back into the jaws of the monster.
The third thing to consider was supplies. They had to find out what food and water the little boat carried. If they had drifted completely away from land, it could take a long time to get back again -- long enough that thirst and hunger could become an overriding priority very quickly.
While he thought, his hands quickly unwound the makeshift bandage on his thigh, praying that he wouldn't smell the sickly-sweet scent of infection. He had had enough experience of that on the front lines that he knew that the slightest whiff of corruption could very well mean a long and painful death as gangrene made its inevitable journey through his body.
He breathed in deeply through his nose, as the end of the home-made bandage slipped off his skin. With a sigh of relief at the lack of any scent of rot, he peeled off the final dressing.
He slowly and carefully drew up his knee in order to see the back of his thigh, and stared at his leg. The skin around the two-inch wound on each side looked pink and healthy. The stitches Wren had put in were neat and tidy, with no gapping that would require further attention. His respect for the girl's abilities rose considerably.
Tentatively, he stretched the leg out, waiting for the moment that the internal damage to his thigh muscles would halt the movement, requiring weeks of stretching before he could use it properly again.
A moment later, he stared in astonishment at his leg, stretched out perfectly straight in front of him. There was a little painful protest from the muscles in his thigh as he drew his foot backward against his Achilles tendon, but nowhere near as much as he expected. He made a mental note to check out the bottle of antiseptic she had mentioned. Whatever was in it had worked wonders.
Even more tentatively, he drew his knees under him and climbed off the side of the bed, slowly putting weight on his legs and finally standing upright. The roof of the cabin wasn't far from the top of his head, but there was enough headroom for him to move around without needing to crouch.
"Reid?" Wren called, her voice thin with concern.
He turned as she sat up, the blanket falling from her shoulders to reveal the smooth, white skin of her throat and shoulders leading down to her beautifully perky breasts, so pale they seemed almost transparent, with her small nipples pointing slightly upward. He felt his body respond involuntarily, his shaft and even his own nipples stiffening and rising.
"You're standing. You shouldn't be up yet!" she exclaimed, trying to ignore the prominent demonstration of his desire for her. Quickly, she wrapped the towel around herself, tucked it in between her breasts and moved to his side, enfolding her arms around him as if to provide support.
"It's okay," he assured her. "I don't know what you did, but whatever it was, you worked a miracle."
She knelt behind him to examine the wound, touching the skin around it gently, almost tenderly. Reid had the sudden random thought that she would probably make a wonderful mother.
He shook his head and put that out of his mind. He wiggled his leg in front of her.
"It works fine, almost no pain at all."
"It does look to be healing well," she commented, gently brushing over the stitches with her thumb. He was all too conscious of her near-naked body, the heat of her hands high on his thigh, and even more aware that his burgeoning erection was just inches from her lips. With the memory of her previous oral attentions to it all too clear in his mind, he decided that trousers were called for. He was very much aware of her vulnerability at that moment -- homeless, having her lover murdered in front of her, being chased onto a dead-end pier by murderous thugs, all capped with her feeling that she owed him for saving her.
He was determined not to take advantage of her.
He looked around the cabin for his clothes, which were nowhere to be seen.
Wren picked up on his search. "There's a tiny washing machine and dryer in the bathroom. I put our clothes in it while you were sleeping."
She hopped across the bed with far more energy than Reid had expected, disappeared through the almost invisible door and emerged with an armful of clothes. Reid examined his shirt and trousers with delight at the fresh, clean smell of them -- an aroma he hadn't experienced for far too long.
He slipped on the tee-shirt, and then started drawing on the camouflaged trousers that he had worn almost daily since he had left his house, after...
His mind shied away from the thought, and he was glad when Wren spoke up as, disregarding her bra and shorts, she pulled on her plain white panties and the long, thin, almost threadbare blouse with its missing sleeves. When the garment finally covered those wonderful breasts, he felt a surprisingly strong sense of loss and gazed at the delightful hillocks they made in the material instead.
"Give me your pants," she ordered. "Let me sew up those cuts before you put them on."
He handed them over, once again very conscious of being naked from the waist down. To try to hide his recurring tumescence, he sat down alongside her and crossed his legs. Outside, he could hear nothing more than the soft slapping of waves against the hull of the boar -- no waves crashing against rocks or engines of any sort. In fact they existed in a remarkably quiet bubble. So if they were in trouble, he guessed a couple more minutes weren't going to make that much difference.
