He releases my lips and nipple, but stays inside. He’s still hard as he presses his forehead to mine. Our ragged breathing starts to slow. Our eyes meet, and I’m lost in him all over again.
After a few deep, calming breaths, he pulls back. My legs loosen around him, but I don’t want him to pull out of me. He kneels back on his haunches, pulling me with him as he goes, keeping his cock inside me. Then he’s laying me back down like a lightbulb went off. “Roll over,” he growls.
I smirk and lift my leg around him, rolling over. I lift myself up on my elbows and knees, my calves brushing along his. His right leg is cold, and it makes me shiver but it’s washed away when I feel him pressing inside me.
He leans forward, finding my wrists, and pulls my arms out from under me so I’m laying down, chest flush to the bed and he slams back inside me. My back arches and I push back into him. “Xavier,” I groan.
“Say it again,” he demands.
“Xavier,” I breathe.
He grabs my hips, hard, pulling me back on him, and he moves vigorously inside me. His cock hits my cervix and that super sweet spot inside me. Our combined juices make moving easy for him as he pounds into me. His fingers dig into my hips.
He shifts, leaning down on top of me, his cock getting impossibly deeper inside me. “So,” he grunts. “Fucking. Gorgeous!” His hair tickles me between my shoulder blades as he finds my ear and nips it. I moan softly, fighting my orgasm. I want to come with him.
“Harder, faster,” I demand.
“Oh god,” he moans, and he does exactly that. Driving in and out of me.
“I’m gonna…” I swallow, “come.”
“Come then, beauty.”
I explode.
He grunts.
I bury my face in the pillow as my pussy makes a meal out of his cock, and he comes inside me, again.
His head rests against my back, between my shoulders. I feel his hot breath matching my own against the coolness. Despite twice in rapid succession, he’s still quite hard inside me, but slowly he pulls himself out of me. I expect him to lay next to me, but instead, he gets up. He steps into the bathroom then I hear the water running for a moment.
He comes out with a washcloth in his hand, and he gently does his best to clean me up, but it’s futile. I know when I get vertical a lot more is going to come pouring out. “Thank you,” I say softly to him. His sweet, happy, sated smile meets mine. He sits on the bed and cleans himself before throwing the washcloth into a pile of clothes.
I’m disappointed when he doesn’t lay with me, but he also makes no move to get up to get dressed. I reach out, touching his back. “When are you leaving?” he asks. His voice is so soft.
“Um, I can’t go anywhere until we get back to shore.” I narrow my eyes.
He turns, looking at me, scrutinizing me. “Not what I meant,” he warns. “I meant, leaving town?”
“Tomorrow morning. I’m flying with Randy and Kathleen back to Seattle for the day, then I leave Monday morning to fly back to New York.” I narrow my eyes. “Why?” I ask.
“Stay here,” he states.
“Xavier, I can’t…” As I start to argue with him, the truth is nowhere to be found. I could stay. “I can only stay ‘til Monday, maybe Tuesday,” I relent.
“Take the boat back to Seattle with me.”
“That I know I can’t do,” I tell him.
“Why not?” he asks gruffly.
I sit up, grabbing a pillow to cover my nakedness, but he pulls it away from me. “Please don’t ever hide yourself. You’re beautiful,” he smiles as he puts the pillow back.
“I have work to do in New York, that’s why.”
“Why can’t you do it here?”
“Um, no internet,” I challenge.
“We have Wi-Fi, we’re not entirely in the Stone Age anymore.”
“Meetings,” I counter.
“Like you can’t reschedule them.”
“Are you going to counter every argument?”
“Yes,” he laughs.
“Diem and Scott, my security guys are here.”
“Where?” His brows knit in question.
“The house we rented for the night.”
Dirk shakes his head. “Only you would rent a house instead of a hotel room.”
I scoff. “For your information, I tried, but my assistant set it up.”
“Doesn’t help, sweetheart. So, take the boat back with me.”
I sigh, “Why? It’s just going to make it that much harder to leave when we get back to Seattle,” I mumble before I can stop myself.
“Good, then my plan will work, and you’ll stay in Seattle with me,” he chuckles.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Xavier Tyler, you’re…”
“Irresistible?”
“Pushy,” I widen my eyes in mock annoyance.
He laughs, “Is it working?”
“No,” I say too quickly, and he knows has me right where he wants me. He leans forward, searching my face and finding me biting my lower lip between my teeth.
“Stay,” he breathes.
“I can’t.”
His lips find mine. I moan. My pussy heats right up again.
He pulls back and tries again, “Stay.”
“Women are bad luck on boats.”
“Pfft,” he kisses me again. My nipples pebble. “We’re not going fishing,” he reminds me.
“No, just 10 days, trapped, on a boat, with you.” I kiss the tip of his nose the way I used to when we were kids.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he murmurs, lips an inch from mine.
“I’ll be walking funny.” I smirk.
“Good,” he laughs. There’s a knock on the door, and I freak out. “Be out in a minute,” Dirk says quickly.
He pulls me into his lap, wrapping his arms around me. “Stay,” he breathes between soft kisses.
“When do you leave?”
“Tuesday, latest. We’ve got to stock up and load some equipment that’s coming back with us.”
“I need to think about it. I need to look at my schedule. I can give you until Tuesday or when you’re ready to leave, but I can’t promise more than that.”
“So you can find an excuse.” His voice is sad, dejected, rejected even.
“It’s two weeks, Dirk. I don’t know if I can clear my schedule that long on such short notice.” I take a calming breath.
“Aren’t you the boss?” he asks.
“Aren’t you?” I counter. “Can’t someone take the boat back to Seattle for you?”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“Come to New York,” I offer.
“And do what? Sit around your house tied to the bed as your sex slave?”
I laugh, “Now that’s an idea.” I sober. “How do I know you won’t do the same to me?”
“Because I’ll have you driving this beast before we get back to Seattle.”
“All part of the master plan?” I giggle.
“Maybe.” He winks and kisses me again. “You’re leaking,” he hisses.
I giggle some more. “Your fault.”
“Minx,” he laughs.
He slides me back onto the bed before he stands. I look at him, from head to toe and back again. “How’d it happen?” I ask, looking at his face and not his leg. He stiffens. “Sorry, I…I shouldn’t have asked.”
His eyes meet mine, there’s a darkness in them I haven’t seen before, and suddenly he looks road-weary and older than his 34 years. “Fallujah,” is all he offers.
Keeping my eyes on his, I nod, understanding without the details. I watch as he bends over to pick up his clothes, and there’s a strange gap, a scar even, that runs down his left leg. It starts right about where his ass and leg meet and runs all the way down to his knee. I notice now that Xavier Tyler has scars. Not just physical ones, which are becoming clearer the more I actually look at him, but deep emotional ones, too.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. I close my eyes, fig
hting the wave of emotion overcoming me quickly. Sadness, worry, fear, heartbreak for him.
I feel the bed dip and then I feel his breath close to my face. “Don’t be.” His voice is soft, the fear I saw on his face replaced by wonder in his voice. “I’m just not used to being asked about it. Not a lot of people around here know about it.”
“Why?” I ask without thinking, opening my eyes to find his, warm and inviting.
He smiles, “Ride back with me and I’ll tell you.”
I sigh, “You’ve got one hell of a bargaining chip on the table Mr. Tyler.”
His smile grows into a wicked little smirk. “Curiosity killed the cat,” he reminds me.
“Meooow.”
He busts out laughing, kisses my nose, and stands back up. I climb off the bed in favor of the toilet. I laugh when I feel the rest of him pouring out of me. I clean up.
“Come back to the wheelhouse when you’re dressed?” he asks. The worry back in his face.
“Of course. I’ll be right there.” I smile.
I knew the minute he asked me to ride back with him that I wanted to scream yes. It’s a strange feeling for me to want to spend time with someone, and it’s a prospect that’s freaking me out as I get dressed. I’d be trapped on a boat for days on end with him, and I don’t know if I can do that.
I want to figure out a way to clear my schedule, make sure I can spend the next two weeks with him, riding across the ocean on a 90-foot fishing vessel.
I wonder if he’d have run again if we weren’t making our way deeper into the Bering Sea.
I wonder if I’d have run.
The truth is, I probably would.
“Where’s Rebel?” I hear outside the door I’m reaching to open.
Shit.
“Bathroom, my quarters.” Dirk answers.
I blush and take a breath to calm my heart down a bit before I open the door. “Hey, lunch is ready,” Uncle Randy says from the stairwell. Dirk is just beyond him in the wheelhouse.
“Great, I’m famished,” I bite my cheek to stop the giggle from spreading when I see Dirk do the same thing.
Thank god Randy is oblivious or we’d be totally busted. Randy comes down, passing me. I look at Dirk who shakes his head with a Cheshire grin on his face. I roll my eyes. “You coming?”
“Already did, twice.”
I blush again. Damn him. “I meant for food.”
“Bring me a plate?”
“Just so you know, I can’t cook for shit.” I laugh, turning to head down the stairs and into the galley for lunch. I said what I said in case he gets some wild idea in his head about me cooking if I ride back with him to Seattle. I don’t clean either, but that’s just because I’m a snob. I’m won’t lie about that.
When I enter the galley, there are at least two dozen people standing, sitting, and leaning. Many of them have plates in their hands.
“Smells delicious,” I observe to Kathleen as she leans against the bathroom door.
“Thanks, help yourself.”
“I’m gonna get Dirk a plate first,” I tell her.
“Grab a little of everything then,” she laughs.
Chapter 14
Dirk
Rebel disappears into the galley, and I go searching for another hair tie. Somewhere in the throes of burying myself in her, I lost my other one. I find one and climb into my chair, checking our heading and making sure we’re still on track. We have about 15 more miles to go, maybe 90 more minutes, before we reach the boat. I grab a smoke and light it, pulling the window next to me down to vent the wheelhouse.
The Wildlife Conservation found a place for us to do this in the middle of a plateau about 90 feet or so below the surface. The plateau spreads about a mile wide and long. The Bearded Bean will be in the center of it. The sea floor is rocky. Not much grows there, but they assure us that this just might be what it needs to get started. It will take years, but eventually, the original Bearded Bean will be something spectacular below the surface.
My satellite phone rings. I narrow my eyes at it but grab it. “BB two,” I say into the line.
“Dirk, it’s Gavin.” The Roving Rogue Captain.
“Hey man, what’s up?”
“Please tell me you tossed these catty ass bitches off your boat because of Rebel?”
I snort, “Yeah, I did, or rather, she did. Why?”
He laughs. “Good for her because I’m about to throw them overboard.”
I close my eyes and shake my head. “What the fuck, man?”
“My crew’s about had it. Although one of them, Edwin’s oldest, has been puking her guts out,” he laughs.
I throw my head back laughing. “That’s too perfect. Too bad you’re not going back out. Would be fun to sober them with a Bering Sea transfer.”
“Now that’s an idea.” He’s still laughing. “I don’t know Rebel, but she doesn’t deserve this shit.”
“No, she doesn’t. Especially when you consider they’re all recipients of her foundation.” I don’t need to explain the foundation she set up years ago. It’s something that’s been widely known around the fleet since it happened. Many captains, including myself (though, I wasn’t a captain at the time) feel what she’s doing is too generous.
“You’re kidding me?” he growls into the phone.
“I wish I was,” I tell him.
I can picture him shaking his head. Gavin is in his early forties, and he grew up on the Bering Sea. When his dad died, he was forced to sell off the Roving Rogue. Randy was kind enough to scoop it up and put him back in charge of it. It was killing Gavin to give it up, but he wasn’t able to maintain it the way he should have. Though, there is some talk of him taking it back from Bearded Bean. Randy would be more than willing to do that. He understands the importance of family when it comes to these things. Though, I suspect he’ll maintain an interest in it. Especially for a few years until Gavin can get himself established as an owner.
“Now I really want to throw them overboard.” He sighs, “I’ll see what I can do to set them in their place. Edwin’s son is one of Turning Tree’s crew. Deck boss, I believe. Maybe his job will be enough motivation to shut them up.”
“Ha! She had no qualms about kicking them off her boat. It wouldn’t be a stretch for her and, unfortunately, I doubt it will help. As long as they keep their mouths shut around Rebel, I couldn’t care less.” I sigh.
“Who are you talking to?” I look over to see Rebel walking toward me from the stairs.
I hold up a finger and mouth, “One minute.” She nods and sets a plate down in front of me. I smile. Kathleen’s cooking is a real treat, and Rebel filled my plate.
“I’ll see what I can do. Hey, when are you guys taking off?” he asks.
“By Tuesday, you?”
“Tomorrow, I think. We’ve got everything, just need to load it up and get out of Dutch. Drinks when we get home?”
I smile. “You got it. See you back in Dutch.”
“Yup, fair seas,” he says, and we hang up.
I put the phone back on its cradle and look at Rebel. “That was Gavin over on the Roving Rogue, apparently kicking them off didn’t teach them much.”
She rolls her eyes. I smirk and grab my plate. “Where’s yours?” I ask.
She laughs, “I’m not that talented at balancing waves and plates. I’ll go back down.”
“What are you thinking about?”
She shakes her head. She turns, putting her elbows on a cabinet below a window, leaning forward, thoughtful. “I just don’t get it. I don’t care so much; I just don’t understand it.” She laughs softly, “Then again, I’m a catty, snobby bitch, too.” I snort. She sighs. “I can’t bring back their fathers. Hell, I’m not even remotely responsible for what happened 20 years ago—”
“And yet they blame you.” I finish for her.
“Apparently.” She shrugs. “I just…” she sighs, “I know I haven’t been around, but there’s no law that says I have to be. Erron and I didn�
�t have the best relationship to begin with. I’ve dealt with his passing the best way I knew how.”
“No one blames you for that,” I tell her.
She turns toward me, her one arm still on the cabinet, leaning casually. Her eyes find mine. “Do you blame me for Jack? Your mother?” Her voice is soft, nervous, shaky.
I get off the chair and come around the cabinet and I grab her free hand, pulling her to me. I wrap my arms around her. “No, Rebs, I don’t blame you. I never have, and I never will.” I kiss the top of her head. What I do blame Rebel for is leaving me the way she did. Without a good-bye, without so much as a hug. But I don’t tell her that. “You were 12. It’s not like you were a survivor and their fathers died while you survived. Their pettiness is completely unfounded.”
“What happened to your mom?” she asks softly. I stiffen. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t. You don’t have to answer that.” She backpedals quickly, trying to pull away from me.
I hold her tight. “It’s not that,” I tell her softly. She leans back, looking up at me. “It’s not my favorite thing to talk about.”
“How old were you?”
“Seventeen. It was three years after Jack.” I sigh, “The best way I can explain it is she died of a broken heart. She took Jack’s death hard, and she was never able to recover from it. Her health declined. She was drinking, doing drugs. She was a mess,” I tell her. “She tried; I think. But once the dust settled, and people stopped coming around so much, she was lonely.”
“Sounds like Diane,” she says sadly.
I look at her, my brows knit together. “Who?”
“My mother.”
Wow, I never knew her mother’s name. No one talked about her. I only knew she committed suicide when I was 10 or so. That’s when Rebel started coming around and staying with us during the seasons.
“She was selfish,” she adds as an afterthought.
“Maybe, but she had her reasons. Same as my mother. She just chose the suffering instead of being done with it. I think she was trying to hang on, hoping it would get better.” I shake my head slowly, closing my eyes. “She held out until she knew I could take care of myself. At least that’s what I choose to believe.” I take a deep breath. “I enlisted, and two days after turning 18, I was on my way to boot camp and I haven’t really looked back since.”
Always Love Me: A Standalone Second Chance Romance Page 12