Bossy (46 page)

I draw a deep breath, then nod. Surprisingly enough, I trust him.

Without a word, he starts to move, nearly carrying me with him. Water spray and strong winds tear at me as we move slowly forwards. I support myself with my legs and balance as well as I can, but I’m pretty sure that even if I were unconscious he’d still carry me in. Even through our clothes, I feel the strength of him as he brings me to safety.

Several long, wet moments later, he pulls open the door. Its hinges squeak in protest and the wind does its best to slam it shut again, but he grunts and holds it in place, ushering me in ahead of him. As soon as I’m inside, I collapse against the wall, sliding down to the floor, my forehead resting on my shaking knees. My heart’s jackhammering in my chest and my whole face tingles. I can’t help it. I start to sob.

The door shuts with a slam, and I look up through saltwater and tears to see Gavin engaging the lock. His clothes cling to him like a second skin, and especially his t-shirt looks painted on. Even more than usual, I mean.

He turns, his face hard and his hair plastered to his skin. “What the fuck were you doing out there? You could’ve gotten hurt.” The calm is over, and now the storm has moved inside.

“I—I thought I saw Mabel out there. I was just trying to...” I sob. “I was just trying to help her, but it was a stupid serving rack, and then the waves got stronger and I didn’t count to seven and I slipped and—” A hiccup shakes my chest and I draw in a ragged breath.

“Never mind. Save your strength.” The anger has left his voice. When I open my eyes again to look at him, all I see is concern and relief. “You can tell me later.”

And with that, he scoops me up like a little kid and carries me. At first I want to tell him to let go of me, and that I’m still mad at him, but the words die unspoken. Instead, I wrap my arms around his neck and rest my face against the warmth of his chest. His shirt’s still wet and sticky, but I can hear his heartbeat through it and that feels too good to ruin by arguing.

He heads straight for the elevator, keeping his feet even with the rocking of the ship. The idea of being trapped in an elevator during the storm still scares me, but I trust his judgement and he doesn’t hesitate, hitting the call button. The doors open immediately. Most people are keeping in their staterooms today.

We ride up in silence, and he never lets me go. I’m pretty sure I can stand just fine on my own now, but I don’t say anything. I remember the last time he carried me. It was over the threshold on our wedding night. With all my heart I wish I could relive that night instead of the bickering and accusations that will probably begin as soon as he puts me down.

Our suite’s a mess. The room service cart from last night has fallen over, scattering popcorn, napkins and what was left of the melted ice. The rocking’s worse up here, but not as bad as I remember from this morning. Maybe the storm is settling.

I push at his chest, and squirm a bit expecting him to put me down, but instead he brings me right into the bathroom, sets me on the floor and starts the shower. “We need to get you warmed up. Don’t take this the wrong way, babe, but you look like hell.”

A glance in the mirror leaves me speechless. I don’t know if I’d say hell, but it’s not my finest moment. “Yeah well,” My teeth clack together as a shiver runs through me. “You aren’t exactly a catch either. Unless it’s the catch of the day.”

He laughs and bends down, unzipping my hoodie. “I can’t gawk at you in the shower if you’re wearing all these things.”

And here I thought I’d be glad if I never saw that smirk again. It actually makes me smile.

“Hey.” I protest, but weakly, my teeth still chattering. I’m pretty sure I can undress myself just fine, but it feels nice when he does it. We aren’t arguing yet, and I want to enjoy the feeling for as long as I can.

He drops my hoodie on the floor with a wet plop, then pulls me gently to my feet. I shiver in front of him, only my bra covering my top half. His gaze darkens as he takes in my breasts, but he’s all business as he hooks his fingers into my sweatpants and yanks them off along with my panties. Blood rushes to my face and my flush battles the residual cold from the wind and rain.

“Turn around,” he orders.

I clutch my arms in front of me and obey mechanically, until he stops me with his hands on my upper arms. He unlatches my bra and slips it off. I half expect him to grope me as he does, but he’s a perfect gentleman. “Alright, in you go.” The gentleman act goes right out the window when he lands a sharp smack on my ass to get me moving.

I forget to be annoyed when the hot water streams over me. God, that’s good. Two days ago I’d have said better than sex, but now I’m not so sure. I tilt my face up at the showerhead, the warm water streaming over my skin a welcome change from the stinging rain outside. For several long moments, I forget about anything else.

I
snap out of it when I hear the shower door open and close behind me. I sense him just before I catch him out of the corner of my eye.

He’s naked, and I’m not sure how to feel about that. Nothing has changed, including the way I react to him. Except now that I know how he can make me feel, the heat of the shower is nothing compared to the heat that’s pooling between my legs. Even so, the last time we were in the room together he pretty much called me a gold digging slut. My whole body tenses at the memory.

“My clothes were soaked too,” is all I get in explanation. He’s got a washcloth, which he reaches past me to get wet before he douses it in shower soap. “Stand still.” So close behind me that we’re almost touching, he begins to scrub my back and shoulders.

I feel weak for letting him do this before we’ve resolved anything, but my muscles slowly relax and I don’t say a word. Is it his way of apologizing? It’s not nearly enough, but damn if it isn’t half convincing me. I’ve had far, far worse apologies.

The cloth slips lower, until he’s running it over my hips and my ass. Down the outsides of my thighs and over my calves. He even gets my feet, making me giggle when it tickles, before he slides back up along the insides of my legs. Definitely weak, but I can’t find it in me to care.

When he starts to wash the insides of my thighs, I spread my legs a little without thinking about it. He soaps almost all the way up, but not quite, then stands. “Turn around, babe.”

I swallow. Am I ready for this? We have so much we need to talk about, but would it hurt to just let this happen? One more perfect moment to remember from a trip of confusion and heartache. I should say no, but I turn to face him.

As soon as Gavin comes into view, my eyes eat him up. He’s standing straight, his muscular, decorated body wet and flushed from the steam in the shower. I can’t hide my desire quickly enough, and the corner of his mouth turns up. It’s not the only thing that’s up. His cock is pointing at the ceiling, swaying slightly with his movements. A shiver runs through me when I remember the magic of feeling it inside me. It had to be magic for something that big to fit, right?

“I’m sure you’re still pissed as all hell at me,” he says quietly.

I shake my head. Not in denial, but I don’t want to think about that. Not right now.

He begins to scrub, first my left arm. “I can’t help myself. You drive me crazy, babe.” The rough cloth leaves a soft tingle in its wake as he moves from one arm to the next.

“I’m not your babe,” I whisper.

“You’re naked in my shower with my hands all over your body. I’m just calling it like I see it... babe.”

His hands move to my shoulder blades, rubbing slow, soapy circles along my chest just above my breasts. My nipples respond, hardening into shameless little points. Traitors. When he slides the cloth down between them, he leans in and whispers hotly in my ear. “You make me so fucking hard.” This close, I can smell his musk even over the flowery scent of the soap. It’s heady, making me just a little woozy. He steadies me with his hands. “Do you need to sit down?” At first he sounds concerned, but then he adds while soaping my breasts, almost as an afterthought, “And while you’re down there...”

Good to know some things don’t change. “Are you sure? I have pretty sharp teeth,
babe.
” I emphasize the last word sarcastically.

He only laughs, crouching to wash my thighs and hips. I’m very conscious of him being face to face with my pussy, but he doesn’t seem to notice, concentrating on my legs. His touch is so soft, sliding smoothly through the sudsy soap that covers me.

Suddenly he leans forward and puts a kiss right on my mound, just above my clit. I squeak and jump, but his hands grip my hips to hold me in place. “Easy, tiger. I think it’s time to rinse.” He grins mischievously when he stands.

Grabbing the showerhead, he detaches it so he can spray me clean. Starting at my shoulders, he works his way down my body, passing the head close to my skin. The temperature is just on the edge of comfort, tingling without burning. He runs it right over my spine, making me gasp as the stream pounds against my lower back. Up and down my legs and over my ass, and then the insides of my thighs, letting it jet over my pussy for just a moment. I draw a sharp breath, but I stand still, waiting.

He moves the head to my front, but stays behind me, reaching around. Starting at my throat, he rinses my chest down towards my breasts, tickling my nipples rock hard with the pressure. I can’t help myself and push back against his naked body.

Gavin’s broad chest is like a wall, and his hardness slides against the small of my back. I wiggle against him, loving the feel of his skin against mine. His free arm goes all the way around below my breasts, clutching me to him while he moves the showerhead lower.

“That’s right,” his gruff voice rumbles next to me. “Rub yourself against me. So soft and sexy.”

Ashamed at being caught out, I try to think of some glib remark, but his hand cups my breast, catching the nipple between his thumb and index finger. When he rolls it, I moan, reply forgotten.

He puts the showerhead right between my legs. The powerful stream rushes against my clit, burning with heat, thrumming against the sensitive nub. I writhe in his grasp, but he holds me tight. So good, but so much at the same time.

Sparks of pleasure arc out from my center, making my skin tingly and hot. Between his solid grip on my breast and the showerhead, he’s got me right where he wants me and he’s merciless. Usually I need to ease into it, but maybe I was just so worked up already, because the steady rush of water sets off a chain reaction.

“Come for me. Show me how fucking beautiful you are when you come.” His voice is husky with need, sounding so damn sexy. The constant spray, the sound of his voice, his touch on me—they all combine to push me over the edge, and I explode in his arms.

My whole body goes tight and my toes curl as I press into his powerful chest. His arm is like rock, holding me up while I squirm, coming like a freight train. There’s a keening sound, and it takes a couple of moments before I realize that it’s me. It echoes off the walls, throwing the primal sound of my orgasm right back at me.

It’s not until I begin to squeal and laugh as the tingling sensations become too much that he pulls the showerhead away. I let out a sigh of relief and go completely limp, his grip the only thing that keeps me from collapsing on the floor. Holy crap, that was intense.

“Warm enough yet?” He’s still rock hard against me. I don’t trust my voice, so I just nod, making him chuckle. “Good. I can only wait so long.”

He drops the showerhead and it hits the floor with a loud clunk, spraying hot water wildly. Turning me around, he presses me up against the shower wall and mashes his lips against mine. His kiss is eager and possessive, claiming me while his hands boldly explore my body. His large cock is hard against my stomach, and unable to help myself, I slip my hands down to grip him, to feel his heat between my fingers.

The deep groan he makes when I touch him stokes the fire inside me. I stroke his length, sliding my hands up and down him, loving the silky smoothness of his skin. “I want you in me.” The words slip out before I know what I’m saying. “No, wait.” I look up at him as earnestly as I can, fearing rejection. “I want to try something.” He looks at me curiously as I slide down to my knees. I glance up again to make sure I have his attention. “I’ve never done this before, so you’ll have to show me, okay?”

He swells in my hand while he watches me, eyes bright and full lips parted. “Fucking hell, Angie. You’re so perfect I almost don’t care if it’s real.”

It hurts that he still doesn’t trust me, but I push it aside for now. I don’t trust him either, but I want this anyway. Licking my lips, I eye his cock with trepidation. I’m not even sure I can get my lips around it, but I’m going to try. I take him in, but just barely, stretching my jaw until it burns. Touching the underside with my tongue, I taste him for the first time. I explore his texture, sliding over his bumps and ridges. Somehow this feels dirtier than sex, even here in the shower.

He threads his hand through my hair and grips so tightly that it hurts a little. I look up with just my eyes and I’m a little scared by the intensity of his gaze. Then he pushes the back of my head, forcing me to take him deeper.

Oh God, I don’t know what I’m doing. He bumps into the back of my mouth, and I struggle to keep my gag reflex under control. I brace against his thighs, trying to control the depth and he doesn’t force the issue.

Instead, he uses his grip to teach me a rhythm, showing me how to move to make him feel good. For once, he’s not making crude comments or trying to get a rise out of me. He’s too busy moaning, the sound deep and sexy. His eyes are closed, so I can’t help slipping a hand down between my legs. I’m soaked, and it’s not from the shower.

His breathing comes faster, emphasized by sharp gasps. He thrusts, fucking my mouth while I tease him with my tongue. “Shit... I’m almost there, babe.” Looking down at me hotly, he makes me blush when I realize he’s watching me play with myself. His eyes are half-hooded with lust, and even his trademark smirk is gone as he tenses up.