Docked (25 page)

I remain quiet, staring up at him. He makes it all sound so glamorous, so easy. But I see the unpaved bricks before me. I see the path, even though it’s yet to be laid. My gut screams to say no to this man, this beautiful, irresistible man. But I don’t. I can’t. Not when he’s looking at me like this. Not when his hands are on me. I can’t deny the rush of excitement that races over me, that zips through like wildfire at the thought of spending another blissful two weeks with him.

Against my better judgment, I nod and say yes. I listen to Lana’s nagging voice, the one telling me to admit I want him. That I want something more—or at least the chance to see if he does. At the very worst, I’ll walk off his ship again with a heavier heart, with more weight to carry home.

The biggest grin breaks out on his face, instantly making me forget what the hell I was so worried about in the first place. He moves in and hoists me up, tugging on my bottom lip with his teeth. “You won’t regret it, Miss Banks.”

“I need to do laundry.”

“We’ll buy you new clothes.”

I jut my head back and glare up at him. “You might have talked me into going back on that ship with you, Mr. Christensen, but you will not convince me to be a kept woman for the next two weeks.”

“Haven’t you already been a kept woman?” His chin cocks up and his smirk tilts, blue eyes narrowing as he challenges my gaze. “I believe I’ve spoiled you rotten for the past twelve days. Do you honestly object to being spoiled for fourteen more?”

I slap his shoulder and wiggle in his grip. “Put me down.”

“No.”

“I mean it.”

“No. What you really mean is, put me down on the table and fuck me senseless. Admit it, Miss Banks.” He bends and pecks my cheek. “You want it just as much as I do.”

“I never denied that.”

“Then perhaps it’s time to quit arguing and time to let me please you, yes?”

“Tanner,” my voice softens and I raise a finger to his lips, “will you really insist on buying me new clothes? I’d like to bring my own. I’d like to do my laundry.”

“How long will it take you to do laundry?”

“I don’t know, a few hours?”

“Where are your washer and dryer?” He glances around, holding me tightly around his hips.

“Over there.” I nod toward the hall closet.

“And your laundry?”

“There.” I point to my suitcase. He lets me slide down his body. My feet hit the floor and I can’t help the pout that spreads over my face. “You want me to do the laundry now?”

“Yes.”

“What happened to pleasing me?”

His amused, cocky smirk twitches and he slips his hands casually into his pants pockets. He hangs his head with a husky laugh and his baby blues roll up, watching me. “Miss Banks, I have two weeks to please you. I assure you, you’ll get your fill. And when you’re done, you’ll be ruined for all men.”

My cheeks flame and my chest swells with indignation. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Isn’t it?” His brows lift.

“Maybe I’ll skip the laundry.” I cross my arms and thrust my hip to the left. Lana would certainly be proud. “In fact, maybe I’ll skip the cruise altogether. Maybe I’ve changed my mind.”

“No, you haven’t.”

“You condescending son of a—”

“You’re wasting time, Anya.” He gestures to the hallway. “The sooner that laundry gets done, the sooner I can carry you back to my ship and worship your body.”

I gulp quietly. The more he talks about pleasing me and worshiping my body, the less appeal laundry seems to have. This man must be out of his mind if he thinks he’s gaining any momentum here.

Channeling my inner Lana again, I call on the sassy, brave seductress she’s encouraged me to be and walk forward, giving his chest a firm shove. He doesn’t budge, barely flinches, just watches with cool, easy indifference; the kind I’ve learned drives me mad. It truly takes me to the brink, especially when it comes from him, and knowing this irks me like nothing else.

“You,” I demand, lifting my chin in triumphant defiance, “need to sit in that armchair and shut up, Mr. Christensen. It’s my turn to please you.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

He collects my wrist and yanks it behind my back, stepping forward, eyes raining down on me. “At what point did you begin to believe you have control here, Miss Banks?”

Everything in me wants to cower, to shrink before him. Not in fear, but in cooperation. His bossy ways have grown on me, and it pleases me to no end to submit to him. As I stand here, though, I don’t see Tanner Christensen, owner of Trident Voyager. I catch another glimpse of Tanner. Just Tanner. The man standing here in my apartment. The one who came here of his own free will to pursue me. To extend our arrangement. To offer the possibility of something more, something he’s never given any other woman.

Despite my desire to submit, I fight the natural inclination. I stare up at him innocently. “The minute you walked through my door, Mr. Christensen.”

His lips swish to the side and suppress the laugh sneaking up. Without a word, he releases my wrist and slowly steps backward, his hands coolly tapping the sides of his thighs. He glances over his shoulder to locate the armchair in the living room area.

“Well,” he finally says, “I’m all yours, baby.” He continues to shuffle backward, settling into the armchair with an easy grace that makes my heart jump into my throat. Once he’s comfy, he splays his legs wide, drapes his arms on the armrests, and lifts his chin.

All of my nerve is shot the moment we lock eyes.

“Getting cold feet?”

“No.” I gulp.

“On your knees, Miss Banks.” He gestures to his feet. “No turning back now.” My mouth waters as I walk toward him, eyes dropping to his lap. He tilts his head and watches me lower myself to the floor, spreading his knees farther apart. He leans forward a hair, and his voice drops an octave, becoming silky, smooth, and wholly authoritative. “Take it all the way, baby.”

I glance up. I can’t wait to taste him. My fingers find his fly, trembling a bit as they work the zipper. His breath hitches above me when I take him into my hand and lean forward, teasing his moist tip with my tongue. The sound sends a thrill through me. This isn’t the first time I’ve taken him in my mouth, but it’s the first time he’s allowed me complete control in this position. I’m the director, and he’s the treasured talent, ready for me to mold, ready for creation.

My body stretches as I move in closer. I freeze when his hand snakes out to wrench at my hair. His fingertips glide over my skull and he latches on, getting a good handful, forcing me to tilt my head back. I peer up at him, waiting for whatever it is he’s trying to tell me. I know it then, when his baby blues sear mine. I’m a slave to this man. He’s done something to me, and he’s absolutely right.

There’s no turning back now.

Soon I’ll be on the Trident Voyager again. Once again, I’ll be Tanner’s goddess, and he’ll be all mine. Once again, I’ll be facing the roaring sea and all of its glory, but this time, it’s not the ocean I’m afraid of.

TWELVE

I double check my purse to make sure my meds are carefully tucked away in the side pocket. I’m hoping I won’t need them this time around, but reality remains. The ocean’s power can strike without warning, and at any time can send me into a spiraling meltdown. I may have confronted my fear during my first cruise on Trident Voyager, but I know I’m not out of the woods yet.

Lana yaps wildly at me on the phone as I hurry out the door. Tanner awaits me in the parking lot in a shiny, fresh-from-the-factory luxury sports car, sunglasses dipped low on his nose, watching me through the windshield.

“I swear to you, the second you step foot off that ship, I will bow down and kiss your feet,” Lana says, her voice laced with uncontainable excitement. “This is by far the most thrilling thing you’ve ever done, Anya Banks! I mean, coming with me on the first cruise was pretty freaking brave of you, but this is an entirely new level of badassery!”

“I’ve lost my mind,” I mumble into the phone, turning to lock the door behind me. “This is crazy.”

“Listen to me and listen to me good, Anya. Women all around the globe are counting on you to live out their wildest fantasies, do you understand? Any straight, sane woman would kill for a chance at round two with Mr. I-Own-the-Ship Christensen. So live it up, and enjoy every damn second of it, or you will let us all down, and we will cry, and then we’ll have to stone you to death or something equally horrific. And I just can’t allow that.”

I stop when I turn back to walk to the car. “Oh my God.”

“Oh! What? What is it? You want to have his babies, don’t you?”

“No,” I laugh, holding up my index finger to tell Tanner to wait, “I forgot to email you the review. I meant to send it last night, but we got,
um
…busy.”

“So, what you really mean is you were busy being a dirty temptress when you should’ve been working on the review you owe me.”

I gasp. “Take it back, Lana Crawley!”

“Nuh-uh,” she mumbles. “No take backs. Never, ever.”

“Okay. Quit harassing me and let me live out the women of the world’s fantasies.”

“Yes! That’s the spirit. Oh, and take pictures.”

“Take pictures?” I curl my lip. “Lana, I love you and all, but...”

“No, woman. Of the ship. Your travels. Ted said he wants some great visuals for the feature.”

A miffed laugh bubbles up. “Well, tell Ted to stop being cheap and to send Jake out here to get some shots.”

“One step ahead of you, girl. Ted actually tried to get him out on the ship with us two weeks ago, but he’s been in Bermuda with the family.”

“Bummer. He’s the best photographer we’ve got.”

Lana snorts. “He’s the only photographer we’ve got.”

“This is true.” I smile and sigh, still amazed at how stingy Ted can be. Four Corners Elite is one of the top travel publications in the industry, yet Ted’s really been holding back lately. He’s always been frugal, but the past few months have been torturous when it comes to discussing expenses with him. “Okay, I’ll email you the draft when I get on the ship. Tanner’s waiting.”

“Sounds good, love. Have a blast! Brie and I will wallow in envy as we share a baguette and a bottle of red without you.”

“Sounds brutal,” I chuckle and start for Tanner’s car. “Tell her I said hey.”

“Will do. Talk soon!”

We hang up and I scuttle to the passenger door. Tanner beats me to it, hopping out of the driver’s seat to help me inside.

“We’re running late, Miss Banks.” He shoots me a look that says he means business, but all I can do is smile up at him. He’s so handsome in his signature grey suit and blue tie, all professional and debonair. He slipped fully back into Mr. Christensen mode this morning, and this side of him carries an irresistible flair all of its own. “Don’t grin at me like that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s distracting.”

“You said that last night.”

“Yes, because last night you gave me the same grin right before you took me in your mouth, and now I can’t get the image out of my head.” He leans down and skims his thumb along my bottom lip, leveling his gaze with mine. “
Distracting
,” he whispers, with a ghost of a smile. I reach up for his hand and weave our fingers together for a moment, giving him a quick squeeze before allowing him to release me.

It’s not long before we hit the road. Tanner’s driving is fast and smooth, careful and calculated, cautious but always sitting on the edge of daring. My mind can’t seem to get over the hurdle that I’m once again sitting next to Tanner Christensen. That I’m about to be back on his ship, and back in his bed. I really should have done more research on his father, or at the very least, studied the notes Lana took during her own research. I have no idea what I’ll write about this time around.

“Something on your mind?” he asks, glancing at me.

“I was just wondering about my assignment for this sailing. I haven’t heard from Ted since we docked yesterday. What did you discuss with him? I’ve already written my review.”

“He gave you the green light to write about anything you wish.”

“Anything?”

“Anything. I’ve asked him to consider doing a full-length themed feature about my ship in exchange for exclusive details on the company’s expansion.”

“You’re expanding?”

“Yes.” He shifts and his knuckles flex around the steering wheel. “We’ll be sailing from new ports next year, expanding in parts of Europe and out in the Pacific Northwest.”

“That’s so exciting! I bet you’re thrilled.”

“Exciting, yes. Thrilled, no. It will mean more time away from home. And other changes that I’m not particularly looking forward to.”

“You travel a lot already. Will it make that much of a difference?”

His phone rings, cutting him off, and he excuses himself as he hurries to answer. I give him a moment, directing my attention out the passenger window, eyeing the bright, cloudless sky and the tops of the palm trees that line the interstate as we speed toward Port Canaveral.