004: First Touch

Andy’s POV

I woke up with a violent sneeze.

And another. And another. My nose was clogged. My head hurt like someone was inside banging pots and pans. Everything was so freaking bright it hurt my eyeballs just to see.

“Urghhhhh,”

“You’re up.” A cool, deep voice spoke beside me.

I turned slowly. There he was. The psychopath that pushed me off the ship. In the morning sun filtering through the glass windows, he was so handsome it physically hurt to look at him. That jawline…Urgh. The shape of his nose, just like the men I used to fawn all over on the internet. He looks like he just stepped out of a fashion magazine with the title “dangerous and sexy”

No. I shouldn’t be here admiring this psycho! He tried to kill me!

“You!” I screamed, lunging at him, ready to claw his eyes out.

He stepped to the side.

I fell to the ground, groaning as my knees banged against the floor. Not even a second wasted, I jumped to my feet and spun around to face him.

“What are you doing here?!”

He sighed, muttered something in Italian which I swear was a curse word, then shoved something in my face.

Cold medicine.

“Sit down, Andy. You had a terrible cold last night.”

I scoffed, folding my arms across my chest. “And who is to blame for that?”

His eyes scanned me from top to bottom. Then he smirked. Frowning, I looked down at myself.

My clothes were changed. Instead of the gown I’d worn yesterday, I was in a pair of fancy pajamas.

“Did you change me?!”

“Maybe,” he said, setting the packet of medicine on the nightstand. Before I could speak, he grabbed me by my shoulders and forced me to sit on the bed. “You’re bleeding,” he gestured to my knee.

I looked down. “Oh,” truly, my knee was bleeding. But as usual, I didn’t feel anything.

He left and minutes later returned with a first aid box. He grabbed a chair, pulled it close and went to work.

“This could hurt,” he murmured, slapping on some rubber gloves before he held an alcohol soaked piece of cotton up.

“How do you know my name?”

He swiped it across the bruise. “I know everyone that gets on my ship.”

“That’s not—“ I started to say, then his words sank in.

His ship.

His….

I looked around me. The cabin was made of pure glass, on all sides, showing off a breathtaking view of the ocean. I was in a bedroom, the bed large enough for ten people. Every piece of furniture looked so expensive and classy that I could see dollar signs floating in the air.

I turned back to the psycho.

“You own this ship?”

He lifted his head and our eyes met. My heart skipped. A strand of hair had fallen over his eyes. I wanted to reach out and brush it back, trace my hands over his face even though I won’t be able to feel his skin. Fuck.

“Surprised?” He asked.

I turned away, my chest tightening. “So you’re rich and a psycho. Double horned devil. ”

He patted my lap and rose to his feet. “I’ve been called worse,” he took the medicine, opened it and popped out two tablets. “Drink,”

“No. How am I sure you didn’t poison it?”

“You’re going to be my wife. What do I stand to gain by poisoning you?”

He has a point. Not that I’ll ever say it out loud.

“You’re shaking,”

“That’s because you threw me into the fucking sea! Asshole!”

“Andy, take the fucking pills.” His voice dropped an octave. The smile on his face vanished and his eyes turned dark.

My body obeyed instinctively. I took the tablets, washed them down with water and showed him my empty mouth. “Happy?” I spat.

His smile returned. “Much so.”

I huffed. What a bastard. Urgh. He thinks because he’s handsome that he can do whatever he likes?

“What do you even want from me?” I asked. “I’m not buying that shit about marriage. What is it that you want from me?”

“I want to marry you, that’s all.”

“Bullshit.”

“Why?”

I bit my lip hard. “Because…because I…” I can’t feel touch. I'm cold and lifeless. I could be sawed in half and I won’t even feel it. Even animals feel pain. I’m something below an animal.

“Because I’m poor.” I said. “I don’t have money to pay for a wedding or a ring or anything like that.”

He walked over to me. Each step felt like watching a panther stalk over to its prey. He stood before me, so tall I had to crane my neck back.

“Andy,” his voice was a rich murmur. He touched my chin, lifting my face up.

That spot tingled.

I felt it. I felt the warmth of his skin, the roughness of his touch, yet how gentle it was at the same time.

“I’m not marrying you because of money. I have enough for both of us,”

“Then…” my mouth went dry and I swallowed. “Why?”

His eyes cut to my mouth. Lingering, intense, like he wanted to close the distance and kiss me. If he kisses me, will I feel that too?

“You look at me like…like you want to eat me,” I whispered.

“And if I say that’s exactly what I want to do?”

Oh fuck.

He wants me.

I can see it in his dark eyes. Fuck fuck fuck! The air between us feels charged, electric. Like I can reach out and touch it, feel a shock for the first time.

I don’t know what made me, but I reached out and touched his arm.

Shivers coursed through my body.

“Warm,” I whispered. The first time I’m feeling someone’s warmth. It’s so nice. I wrapped my hand around his wrist, pressing my fingertips into his pulse point. “You’re so warm,”

Tears filled my eyes. The doctors all said I would never know what touch feels like. All the long lists they gave. The complications. My reduced life expectancy.

“You’ll have to manage life without it.” they all said.

But this man…this man touched me and I felt it. I’m touching him and I can feel it.

His thumb swiped over my cheek. I didn’t notice I was crying till he flicked my tears away. When he said my name, I shivered, pressing my thighs together.

“Why do you want to marry me?” My voice was barely above a whisper.

“You,” his fingers traced the curve of my cheeks, before his thumb pressed into my lower lip, pulling it down and letting it snap back into position. His jaw clenched, his eyes darkening even further. “Andy, it’s you,”

The way he said my name made me want to melt into the bed like ice cream on a hot day. The way he looked at me, like I was the only thing they existed in this world. And the way he touched me, like he wanted to mark my skin forever.

My heart fluttered.

No one has ever looked at me. Actually looked at me, Andy.

This man is looking at me. Not through me like everyone else does. Not with pity, or disgust, or even anger.

He’s looking at me.

Like he wants me. And by the gods that made me want to do things I’ve never done before. It made me realize that I wanted him too. I wanted him to keep looking at me.

Pathetic. Attention seeking. Just like my father said when he hit me.

But right now, I don’t care.

I looked up, meeting his dark gaze. His eyes were two dark pools of lust.

“Fuck, I do want to eat you.”