Hey Everybody! Sorry it took so long to update, things have been hectic around here! School is a killer... I love junior year but its hard no doubt about it...
I admit, this chapters short... theres a reason for that, I assure you, lol... I liked the way it cut off.
Disclaimer- I do not own Pirates of the Carribean or any characters related to its story line, Disney gets it all... if it was mine, do you really think Jack would be on a ship instead of with ME?
Jack had lost track of time, sitting on the beach, holding the now sleeping Elizabeth Swann.
She had cried herself into slumber, holding onto him, refusing to let go.
And no matter how many times he'd told himself he would move her, he never had.
In fact, after he'd been sure she was sleeping, he'd taken to running his fingers through her hair…enjoying the feeling of her smooth, chestnut locks.
He kept his mind blank though, purposely avoiding the thought of why he was enjoying it all so much, why he loved the way her body shaped to his…the way her fair fell onto his shoulder.
He was Captain Jack Sparrow… he didn't care about anything except himself and his ship.
His ship. That brought on a parade of things he really didn't want to think about…because thinking about his ship meant thinking about being stranded on the island.
Which meant thinking about Barbossa.
Which meant thinking about his crew.
Which meant thinking about how dear William was faring.
Which meant thinking about Elizabeth again.
All and all, Jack Sparrow thought it best not to think.
Elizabeth woke to find herself enveloped in warmth. A smile came to her lips as she felt strong arms wrapped around her, keeping her safe…
She nuzzled her face deeper, earning a soft groan for her efforts.
A chuckle escaped her lips as she started to glide her fingers over his arms…she thought it strange, how the sea and sun had already started to change the texture of his skin. Of course, she had never felt it much before, being a proper lady…but during her encounters with Will she had always found a way to graze his skin, caress his arm, anything that would bring her closer to him.
Her fingers danced to his face, feeling the contrast between scruffy hair and weather worn skin...her body sang in response.
Brushing a few astray strands from his face, she soon found herself enamored with the many trinkets laced into his head, feeling the smooth painted wood…
Oh...
Elizabeth daringly open her eyes…
It was, most definitely, not her William Turner.