Through the Maelstrom by Rebekah Lewis Read Free Book Online Page A

the chairs and towels of people swimming farther down. Christophe was almost upon them now, and if she could melt through her beach chair she would. "What do I say ?" Serena hadn't told her about the misunderstanding the night before and didn't want to. Becky Ann would find it hilarious even though it'd been insulting. Honestly, Christophe didn't deserve any more of her time.
    Becky Ann shook her head and chuckled. "How you've managed to have boyfriends and sex before truly amazes me. You had game at some point, find it. Tell him you want one night, no strings. Men love the freedom, and you never have to see him again if he's bad in the sack."
    She sputtered, searching for her cover-up and realizing it was in her bag, under the reclining beach chair and out of immediate reach without standing and bending over to snag it. She was not giving him that view of her. Becky Ann winked before she turned to the approaching time bomb.
    Christophe finally came to a halt about five feet from her chair. He bowed low, keeping his eyes on hers the entire time. It must be difficult for him, what with my harlot skin exposed. Hmmph!
    "Wow." Becky Ann fanned herself in earnest and flung her legs over the side of her chair as she stood, tossing her shades into the abandoned seat. "B.R.B, Serena . I need to dunk myself in the ocean before I combust." Then the traitor twirled away, leaving a deep indention in the pinkish white sand. Leaving her there.
    To die of mortification.
    Serena glared at her friend's retreating back, the multicolored strings from her sugar skull-designed bikini waved with each step. Not only had she revealed her name to the scoundrel frowning at her friend, but she'd also abandoned her to talk to him. Did anyone ever stop and think maybe she didn't want to talk to this guy?
    I'm going to kill her while she sleeps tonight.
    "What is B.R.B?" Christophe asked, finally saying something to break their tense silence.
    Maybe he didn't use social media or text much. "Shorthand for 'be right back.' Shouldn't be used in actual conversation though; she thinks she's cute." She's not. "You look different."
    Christophe smirked and crossed his arms. "My clothes are being laundered. Seems I smelled strongly of a sea battle." He dropped his gaze to her mouth, and she shuddered, recalling the gunpowder scent. "So the siren has a fitting name. Serena suits you well."
    Resentful of the butterflies taking flight under his gentle tone and flattery, she had no choice but to sully the moment. Misunderstandings or further insults wouldn't be flung her way, and she'd scare him off to ensure it. "So I'm a siren now and not a wench or a whore?"
    He cringed and then glanced away briefly. "I apologize. I—"
    She held up a hand, pointing. "If you dare blame it on my clothing, I will call security and tell them you're harassing me. It's 2015. Get over it. Women dress this way. Every woman on the ship is dressed this way, and it's not an invitation into our pants."
    Shifting uncomfortably, he rubbed the back of his neck and moistened his lips. She hated herself for staring and absolutely loathed the warmth coursing through her abdomen. How could she still be attracted to him? He'd insulted her, infuriated her, yet being the subject of his attention excited all while intimidating her. It had to be the pirate look from the night before. Merely a fantasy created by the romanticizing of an era through film and literature. It was easy to imagine letting a rogue ravish her until her toes curled, but in reality, the lack of respect ruined the moment. She wasn't that kind of girl, and Christophe wasn't really a pirate. He should know better.
    "Right...2015." His voice was different and almost...tense. Like she'd said something weird, but Serena brushed it off when he lifted his shoulders high and dropped them again, slipping his hands into his pockets. "There's a perfectly good explanation as to what occurred last night, love."
    She'd figured out the change in his