THREE - JOY

I WOKE UP TO a man kissing me. In the normal run of things, that might be a pleasant way to end a deep sleep. It had been a long time since it had happened, being woken with a kiss. Two things prevented me from enjoying it. One, I had no idea who the man was who was kissing me. Two, I had a lungful of water that came spurting out of my throat an instant later and sprayed all over his face.

"Get off me," I tried to say, pushing his arms away. I was being attacked. He'd kidnapped me and I was being attacked. I fought him off, shoving at his hands as he tried to get hold of me.

I blinked, the sky fading as I lost consciousness again. I felt myself coughing and heard a deep voice saying something but I couldn't figure out the words, it was too hard. Then there was nothing for I don't know how long.

I woke up a second time to find myself floating. No, not floating. I was being carried. That was it.

I looked up. It was the same man. He was carrying me across the grass. Where was he taking me?

"What's going on?" I asked, surprised by how weak my voice sounded.

"Don't try to talk," he replied, looking down at me. I was blown away by how rugged he was. When he turned his eyes down to me, it was like being noticed by a God. He didn't seem to struggle with the weight of me at all, though his features were set hard as he kicked open a door and then I was out of the open air.

"Sit there," he said. "I'll get the fire going. It'll be faster than the heating."

I was wearing a life jacket. Why was I wearing a life jacket? Where was I?

I watched him go before my eyes closed again. It came back to me slowly as I lay there shivering, my head slumping down on the sofa.

I had been kayaking. In a flash, I was in the water again, my head once more catching on the rock. I'd come to on the beach. I could feel the sand under my fingers. What had happened there? He'd given me the kiss of life. That was it. That would explain why I spat water into his face. But what had I done? Something bad?

I'd pushed him away. I'd thought he was attacking me. Then nothing, then carried into here. Where was here? It was the lighthouse. I was on Coquet island and he had to be the man I'd seen waving on the shore.

He reappeared in the doorway a second later with a bundle of kindling. Shoving it into the fireplace, he set it alight swiftly, confidently. He'd clearly done it many times in his life.

When he turned around to face me, I was again taken by how good he looked. He pulled off his top as he faced me. "Soaking wet," he explained, slipping his socks off a second later. "So are you."

I couldn't speak. I was staring at the broad muscles on his chest, those wide shoulders, the thick arms of his, the ones that had carried me out of the water. "You saved my life," I muttered. "Thank you."

"Buy me a coffee sometime," he replied. "Now we need to get you into some dry clothes. You were in the water too long."

My wetsuit was great at keeping me warm when I was in the water but sitting there dripping on his sofa, I realised just how cold I was. My teeth had begun chattering and I hadn't even noticed. I reached behind me for the zip but my fingers wouldn't work.

"Do you need a hand?" he asked, walking over.

"Have you got anything for me to change into?" I asked, trying not to look at the top of his wet jeans as the weight of them tugged them towards his hips. Suddenly I felt shaky and not because of the cold. I knew what was inside there. I could picture it, as big as he was, as hard as he clearly was. I felt as if he were towering over me, like he could toss me up into the air or over his shoulder and I wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

He was so fucking handsome, it was impossible to see anything else but him. He had a touch of stubble on his chin, broad cheeks, the sea water had done little to damage his hair, it sat perfectly tousled above his dark brown eyes. His expression was one of concern but I caught a twinkle in the corner of his lips, as if my plight amused him.

"There might be something in one of the lockers. If not I've got a change on the boat you can have."

He left the room and a second later I heard the clang of a metal door opening. He came back in carrying a bright orange boiler suit. "It's this or a tea towel," he said as he saw my expression.

"Could you give me a second?" I asked, taking the boiler suit from him.

"Sure, I'll be out here," he replied, leaving the room once again.

I tried my best to get the wetsuit off but my arms were too weak, my fingers refusing to respond. "All right in there?" he shouted as I swore to myself.

"I need help," I admitted.

He pushed the door open and I gasped. He had taken his jeans off and was only wearing a pair of black boxer shorts. They were soaked to his skin, giving me a perfect outline of his cock. My insides tingled at the sight.

"Come on," he said, walking over as I forced myself to look away from his crotch. "Let's get you changed."

He stood me up and I faced the fire, not that it was warm yet. I felt his hands on the back of my neck and I almost melted into the floor. Then he slid my wetsuit from my shoulders.