Depths of Salvation (Love on the Edge) (9 page)

Connell’s laugh filled my ear over the roaring of the engine as he wrapped his arms around my middle. He didn’t have a choice if he didn’t want to be left behind to swim to the island. His hands were warm and rough against my skin where my tank top had hiked up from the movement through the waves. Electric tingles sparked underneath his touch, and though I knew he was only holding me out of need to stay on the ski, it felt incredible.

I didn’t realize how long it had been since I’d been touched like this by a man until it happened, and I sighed with the relief from the contact. I’d craved it more than I even realized.

It was over too quickly. Once I slowed down to dock the jet ski, Connell returned to his first position, which was relaxed and with hands to himself. I shouldn’t have been disappointed by any of it, since we barely knew each other, but I couldn’t deny the connection I had to him. It made no sense—much like my lack of fear of sharks and other threatening aspects that came with my job—but it was something I couldn’t ignore.

We snagged the same table we ate at last night, the sun setting over the ocean on the horizon, turning the sky a mixture of fire-orange and ink-purple.

“Did Slade give you full leave to survey my site or do you still have to report to him daily?” I asked after we’d finished half our drinks in silence—not uncomfortable, but still not satisfying my nagging curiosity for something real from him, something more than surface material.

“I’m on call. Emergencies, or jobs too big for the welders he has on site.”

“Are you getting paid less since you’re splitting your time?” A wave of guilt hit me with the thought.

He shifted in his seat and glanced down at his beer. “No.”

I sighed in relief. “Well, that is a good surprise from him.”

Connell nodded, and I waited.

Then waited some more.

As much as the closed-off personality was intriguing, it was also infuriating. I wasn’t used to having to work so hard for some easy chitchat, not that I conversed with a ton of people outside my team, but still.

The waitress set down my burger and sweet potato fries, and his same order of fish tacos he’d had last night. I stopped her before she could leave. “Could you bring us four shots of top-shelf rum, please?”

The girl smiled. “Absolutely.”

“Thank you,” I said and then scooped up my burger, chomping down on it with the ravenous fury that was my stomach. When I did long dives like today, I could almost never slake the insane hunger that hit me afterward. I peered over the massive thing, grease dripping down my fingers.

Connell raised his eyebrows. “You want to get drunk?”

I swallowed the oversized bite in my mouth and wiped my face with a napkin. “Maybe. Maybe I just want to get
you
drunk.”

He snorted. “Why?”

“Experiment.”

“I don’t like being toyed with. I’m not one of your plants to run tests on.”

“Or perhaps you just haven’t been played with in the right way?” Good Lord, I’d only had half a rum and OJ so far. What was it about him that made my mouth sound so dirty?

“Shots!” the waitress said, setting the shot glasses on the table with a giddy smile. “My kind of people. Check on you in a beat,” she said and went to attend to her other tables.

I picked up a shot glass and raised an eyebrow at Connell. The sun had fully set, leaving the wooden patio lit up by the fire-torches that lined the sand just outside its perimeter. An indigo sky hung above the ocean, which looked like wine in the moonlight.

After a few moments, he finally scooped up a glass of his own.

“Progress.” I clinked my glass against his before tossing it back. The sweet-heat of the rum hit the back of my throat and felt good all the way down. I hissed from the final burn and turned the glass upside down, slammed it on the table, and immediately picked up the next one.

Connell followed suit, his eyes lit with an orange glow. He clinked my glass this time, and we took the shot in sync. He raised his eyebrows at me. “You know it would take more than two shots to get me drunk, right?”

My head buzzed with a pleasant fuzzy sensation already. I wasn’t a heavy drinker, but I was for anything that would fast-track my getting to know Connell. He was too important to my site to keep up the wicked silent game for two months.

I nodded and took another bite of my burger. When our waitress passed our table, I told her to bring four more.

Connell shook his head between bites, and I gulped a good amount of water to help pace myself. The girl was back in a flash with more rum.

“Thanks!” I said a little too enthusiastically. Maybe my brilliant plan wasn’t so sharp? Oh well, I was nothing if not committed. I reached for another shot, but Connell snatched it out of my reach and tossed it back before I could blink.

“Easy, darlin’,” he said. “This is one area I know you can’t keep pace with me.”

I sat up straighter.

“That’s not a challenge. Just a fact. Now eat,” he demanded, taking another shot.

I smiled and nibbled on a fry. After he’d taken the third of the four, he sat a little deeper in his chair.

“What was your worst close call?” I asked, deciding to start with something easy. A question about his job should earn me some conversation.

He licked a few drops of rum off his lips, and my eyes were slow to leave them.

“Got stuck underneath a ship once. Umbilical twisted around a rotor until it was so tight I couldn’t move. Basically tied me to the bottom of the ship, which was still running. And I had been cutting metal—and with that kind of heat you’re splitting water molecules, creating hydrogen pockets—and they were all around me.” His eyes trailed to the side, lost in the memory. Funny, I figured he’d show terror or pride at having survived, but he maintained his aloof calm while telling the story. “I was sure one would hit the flame and blow the whole ship up . . .” He adjusted in his seat and shrugged. “But it didn’t.”

He sounded disappointed. Was I that drunk? Who would be sad over
not
dying?

“That must have been terrifying. I’ve never worked with open flames before. Damn. How long did it take to work the tangle?”

“An hour.”

I shook my head. “What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

I raised my eyebrows, begging him for more.

He shrugged. “I stayed still. Managed to get the torch off after a few minutes. Thought about . . .” He pinched the bridge of his nose for a few moments before he grabbed the last remaining shot on the table and inhaled it in one gulp. He held the empty up to the waitress, who glanced at him from another table.

A weight settled over my shoulders, but my fuzzy brain was slow on the draw. “Impressive that you came out of that without a scratch.”

“Part of the job.”

“Right. I get that. I was in a silt-fall on my last site. Blacked out everything around me. I couldn’t see a damn thing, and I was inside the cave, of course, and lost all sense of direction. When I realized the sediment wouldn’t settle before my tank was out and that no one was getting my radio for help, I slowly worked my way outward. I honestly don’t know how I found my way out of the cave and to the surface. It was like something was—“

“Guiding you?” Connell cut me off.

“Yeah. Exactly. Like a magnet.”

He nodded. “Been there. I think it’s the ocean.”

I tilted my head. “I’m not following.”

He raked his hand through his hair as he leaned forward on the table, a slight sheen over his hazel eyes. “The ocean. When you spend enough time in it, become one with it . . . it doesn’t let you go easily.”

My heart kicked up a few notches. I didn’t know anyone else who felt that way about the sea like I did. Not even my team. It was work for them. It was for me, too, but it was also . . .

“Home,” I said out loud.

“Right.”

I laughed.

“What?” he asked, his last taco in hand.

“I usually get the
she’s crazy
looks when I talk like that.”

“Oh, you probably are,” he said but laughed before he took a huge bite. “But I am, too, so there is that.”

Warmth filled my chest that had nothing to do with the liquor I’d had. We were getting somewhere. After our waitress had dropped off another round of shots, my hopes were at an all-time high to keep him talking.

We each drank another one, and I made sure to finish off my burger before I even thought about drinking more.

“So, who did you leave behind in Oklahoma?” I asked after the waitress had cleared our plates.

He flinched, and I instantly regretted the question.
Damn
. A woman no doubt.

He took another shot and set it down. “Where is home for you?” he asked instead of answering.

Noted.

“Phoenix. But I haven’t lived there since I was seventeen. I visit as often as I can, but you know how much you have to travel for the jobs we have.”

He smirked. “Wasn’t it you last night giving me shit about not living near a coast?”

I raised my hands in defense. “I wasn’t giving you shit! I was surprised; that’s all.”

“Could say the same about you.” He stretched his arms over his head, the motion lifting his shirt just enough to remind me of the ridiculous set of abs he was rocking. I looked away as quickly as I could, not needing the temptation to throw myself at him while I was already seriously buzzing.

“Seems like we’re two for two, then.” I managed to find my voice. “I wonder what else we have in common? Besides your family being in the marine biology field as well.”

“You sound so hopeful.” He rested his elbows on the table after taking another shot.

I elected to do his signature shrug. “Two months would be a long time if you were a pain in the ass.”

“True. Anything else you hoping for?”

I grabbed another shot and threw it back, noticing how the burn wasn’t as bad this many in. “I want to save the
Falconer
.”

“And you think by getting close to me you can make that happen?”

My cheeks flared with heat. “Maybe? Maybe I’m just intrigued by the whole mysterious
Angel
thing you’ve got going on.”

He scrunched up his face. “Angel?”

“Buffy?”

“Are you speaking English?”

I laughed. “Never mind.”

“That’s it. I draw the line on shots when you’re no longer coherent.” He cracked the first genuine smile I’d seen yet. Not a smirk or a laugh, but a full-on smile that made my stomach flip.

“I’m not drunk.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

I fanned myself. “It’s abnormally hot out here tonight, isn’t it?”

“No, that would be the rum.”

I shook my head. “I think you’ll have to drive us back.” I dug in my bag for the keys to the jet ski and handed them over to him. His fingers lingered on mine during the pass, the rough skin eliciting those damned sparks again, only magnified because my guard—thanks to the rum—was completely down.

He pocketed them and paid for the check—despite my protests—and led the way back toward the docks. The damn wooden planked walkway was extra hard to navigate tonight, and I tilted to the right like my axis was off.

There is a thing as too much rum.
But I’d gone all-in with the best intentions, and hey, he had opened up just a crack. Enough for me to want more.

I stumbled over my own flip-flops, but Connell’s reaction time was much faster than mine. He caught me before I ate the dock, pulling me against his hard chest in one swift motion. I steadied myself, letting my heavy forehead rest against him for the briefest of moments. A quick inhale and a mental kick in the ass, and I was ready to behave like the grown woman I was, not the drunk college kid I felt like.

I moved backward, glancing upward. “Sorry,” I said, totally embarrassed.

He kept his hands on my hips. “Don’t be.”

“Think you can manage to get us back to the ship?”

He smiled again, and damn if it didn’t light up my insides. “I’ll take care of you.” He swept an arm beneath my knees so quickly I couldn’t blink before he cradled me to his chest and continued walking down the dock.

“Oh, hell no. I’m not that drunk,” I said, kicking my feet.

“No, but you
are
that slow. I’d like to get back to my bed before the sun rises.” He chuckled.

I froze, the air going out of me like a popped balloon. Why the hell was I so sad about that? Was it him leaving?
Had you intended on inviting him into
your
bed?

Yes, yes I had.
Holy hell, the stark realization of the fact hit me like a cold bucket of ice water, the sensation clearing my foggy brain.

“If you’re going to be sick give me a warning,” he said, his eyes on my face.

I quickly forced a smile to my face. “I’m fine.”

He carried me to the end of the dock where we’d left the jet ski without even breaking a sweat. Once I got over how ridiculously damsled the situation was, it was incredibly nice.

He shifted his weight, releasing my legs. I clung to his neck as I found my footing, sliding down his hard body so slow I felt
every
inch of him. And
damn
he felt as good as he looked. I sucked in another long breath, taking in his sultry sea scent, and looked up at him with hooded eyes.

Some jagged strands of black hair hung in his eyes, and with the rum as my motivator, I pushed it back, my hand lingering on his cheek. “You could stay,” I said, but quickly added, “we have plenty of rooms on board.”
You know better.

I saw the debate in his eyes, but the battle was long enough to flush my skin with embarrassment. The rejection was clear long before he opened his mouth, and I put a foot of space between us, my hand on my forehead. “You were right. I’ve had too much.”

Or maybe it was the combination of the rum and the insane connection I had to Connell, which had only amplified since we’d dove together. “Do you get that?” I asked, before realizing I hadn’t voiced my thought.

He tilted his head.

“When you dive with someone, as easily as we did today . . . do you ever feel like it’s more informative of compatibility than a month’s worth of conversations?”

“I do actually. It’s how I knew Ryan was a trustworthy guy. Just like Nemo.”