The next time Jordan came to him, Davis felt sure he’d have nothing to feel guilty about afterward. But how the hell could they find another chance to be alone together? There weren’t many days left on this vacation. And when it ended, there was a good chance Davis would never see Jordan again.
12
The early afternoon sun turned the expanse of Fisherman Bay into a blanket of sparkling light. The Coriolis rocked gently against its anchor; the ripples running out from its hull fractured the light on the surface of the water and dazzled Jordan’s eyes all the more. She squinted against the glare—even with sunglasses on, it was intense—and stared out across the bay to the small village that clung to Lopez Island’s low, green shore.
It was day eight of the sailing trip—only two more days left, and this job would be over. In two days, Davis Steen would be out of Jordan’s life forever.
Not too many days ago, that knowledge would have cheered her. Now she wasn’t sure how it made her feel. Davis was still the same cocky prick she’d first met on the pier—the same overly confident man whose perfect body and rich, deep voice had pushed her beyond her boundaries into a whole new realm of experience. He was still the same man who ran from the sound of silence as if something terrible waited to ambush him from the peace and solitude of the islands.
It was strange, being back at Fisherman Bay—the site of their ill-advised encounter. The place filled Jordan with an unexpected poignancy, a force of longing so strong that she felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. She leaned against the helm’s wheel and studied the shore in thoughtful silence.
Storm and Emily stood close together in the bow where the anchor chain was stretched taut. They spoke to each other quietly, absorbed in their conversation, oblivious of Jordan’s melancholic mood—or so she hoped. She still felt a pinch of anxiety around her crew, a worry that they might suspect what had transpired between her and Davis, and would lose all respect for her. Jordan had no worries about being thought a slut, or anything of that sort. Neither Storm nor Emily was judgmental in that way. But she had been the steady, predictable, unsurprising one of their trio for… well, as long as they’d known each other. And that was a long time. If they knew that a totally different Jordan lurked beneath her steady exterior, would they recognize her at all?
I don’t even recognize myself anymore, Jordan thought grimly. What she’d done with Davis had been so out of character. But what troubled her even more was the way she liked it. Not just the sex—though God knew, that was great enough on its own. She liked the new her—the spontaneous, wild Jordan who took what she wanted without planning and saving and charting her course for years in advance. The Jordan who could give up control… who could do just what she was told.
Jordan shivered as she thought of Davis’s slow, easy commands, the confidence with which he’d guided her through their encounter—and the delicious, enthralling certainty he displayed, the knowledge that she would go along with his games, that she would do whatever Davis pleased. She didn’t know whether the shiver was one of desire or fear, but she liked the sensation as it raced up her spine.
I’ve got to figure this out, Jordan thought. I’ve got to figure myself out, before I drive myself crazy. Am I the captain of my own life, or not?
Could she be a woman who was in command, and also… not?
“Hey, Captain,” Emily said, breaking into Jordan’s musings. “If we head ashore now, we should have plenty of time to get all the groceries we need for the last two days of the trip before the store closes.”
Jordan glanced down at her watch. “Yeah… that sounds good. Hey, why don’t you and Storm take a little extra time ashore? Grab some coffee, walk around on solid land for a while. Maybe take advantage of showers that aren’t the size of Altoid tins?”
Storm wrinkled up his nose. “Are you saying we stink, boss?”
“Always.” Despite her dark mood, Jordan smiled.
Emily said, “Do you think Davis will want to come ashore?”
Jordan shrugged. “He’s taking a nap right now. Or at least, he’s been shut up in his cabin and I haven’t heard him blasting his music, so I assume he’s sleeping. I do trust now that he can pass within sight of a bar and not get stuck there forever, ‘partying.’ But he’s seemed a little down lately… a little quiet.”
“Unusual for Davis,” Storm agreed.
“Maybe he just needs the rest. But if he wakes up and is mad you guys left him behind, I’ll call. You can bring the tender back and get him—give him the grand tour of Lopez Village.”
Emily and Storm agreed to the plan and were soon zipping off across the bay in the tender. Solemnly, Jordan watched them go. She wasn’t quite sure why she hadn’t gone below to wake Davis up and send him ashore with the crew. He would have liked to check out the island’s quirky little village, Jordan was sure. He certainly would have welcomed the chance to stop in at the local pub and have a few beers. But Jordan wanted to know that she was alone on the boat with Davis again—to feel that thrill of knowing exactly what could happen, if she’d let it.
And oh, she knew every detail of what could happen. Jordan hadn’t forgotten a moment of that hot encounter with Davis—that delicious hour when she had released all her inhibitions and jumped into the unpredictable, wide-open now, feet first. If anything, each kiss and every touch had embedded itself in her mind, replaying again and again, amplifying its effect so that night and day she was tormented by longing for him, possessed by a desire to do it all again—and shocked at how quickly she had changed from the steady, level-headed planner to this wild, yearning animal.
Maybe I haven’t changed at all. Maybe this has always been the real me—but I didn’t realize it until now.
The thought disturbed her. How could she exist in her own skin and not truly know herself? It threw her whole adult life into question. Had everything she’d worked for—her business, her professional reputation—been in service to somebody who wasn’t really Jordan at all?
Davis had done this to her. Davis with his taunting smirk, his gorgeous body, his persistent closeness in the cockpit, his presence reigniting the smoldering memory of his touch, distracting her from her work.
She should hate him for it. She had hated him, when they’d tangled in his cabin—and somehow her furious passion had made everything hotter than she could have imagined.
But she couldn’t hate him now. Two nights before, when she had invited him to sing after dinner, she had watched his face as he’d leaned over his guitar. She had listened to his voice, to the haunting sadness in the deep, smooth tones as he sang. And she’d remembered the earnestness on his face when he’d tried to apologize to her. Against her will, Jordan was beginning to like Davis. Or if she didn’t exactly like him, she was starting to see him as more than just another rich, exasperating client. There was something deeper to his personality. There was something that chased him, that even followed him across the waves as they sailed. The mystery of what ate at him compelled her to draw closer to him, almost as strongly as her longing for more of that blindingly hot sex.
Before Jordan realized exactly what she was doing, she’d descended the ladder into the cool, dim interior of the Coriolis. She paused and gazed down the ship’s great length to where his cabin door stood, closed.
She couldn’t keep away from him—Jordan realized that now. Somewhere, somehow, over the past four days of their travels she had given up her annoyance with his presence and had begun to want him in her orbit. She wanted to hear his voice rumbling softly as he conversed with Emily or Storm. She wanted to smell his dizzying, musky scent mingled with the salty air. She wanted to stare at his gorgeous, strong body and remember the way it had looked poised above her, as he slid in and out of her, as he brought her closer and closer to ecstasy.
The memory shuddered through her. The banked fire that had glowed in her since that hour in Davis’s cabin flared up in a hot glow. She took another few steps toward his door and stopped again.
This raw desire was something she had never experienced before. But as much as this new Jordan intimidated her, she knew she had to give that side of herself a chance to be free.
Jordan took a few more steps toward Davis’s cabin. What would she say—how could she possibly explain this? What would he think of her, coming to him like this after she’d insisted so strenuously that they pretend nothing had ever happened?
He’ll think I’m a hypocrite. He’ll think I’m crazy.
The thought pained her. Jordan realize with a flash of both anger and awe that she cared very much what Davis thought of her… that she wanted him to carry home good memories of this trip, and hoped he would think back on their time together with positive feelings. She stopped again and twisted her fingers together, fretting.
He was on the verge of apologizing, a few days ago. He regrets everything we did. If I come to him like this, if I tell him what I want, I’ll only complicate things for him… and myself. He’ll think I’m—
The squeal of the door’s hinges cut off Jordan’s racing thoughts. Davis let the door swing wide and leaned back casually against the jamb, his arms folded across his chest, his mouth curling in a slow, inviting smile.
“Hey,” he said, and the vibration of his voice shivered through Jordan’s body.
13
Davis could see what his voice did to Jordan, the ripple of anticipation it sent through her body. He tried to stifle his inner surge of triumph. He really did feel badly about luring her into an encounter she regretted. If she regretted it at all. But he also wanted her again, with a desperation that clenched his stomach and made his blood race every time he looked at her.
This time was no exception. She looked so damn tempting—positively inviting—in a light-blue tank top that showed off her smooth-skinned, lightly tanned shoulders and hugged the curves of her breasts. It was torture to know what that skin felt like against his lips, how her breasts fit perfectly into his hands. It was agony to recognize the wanting, half-accusing look in Jordan’s eyes, to see how her lips parted and her breath quickened when he moved a little closer to her.
But Davis was resolved not to push Jordan again. She was worthy of respect—clearly, or she wouldn’t command it so easily from her crew. She wasn’t just another groupie. Those girls, Davis could toy with and toss away without any nagging regrets. And why not? Groupies did exactly the same thing to him. He was just a notch in their bedposts, a stamp in their sexual passports, an item crossed off their bucket lists. And he was perfectly fine with that; it was a mutually satisfying arrangement, with both parties getting what they wanted, no more, no less.
But as he stood there, watching Jordan in silence—as her own tense, questioning silence filled the space between them—Davis knew he wanted much more from this woman than he’d ever found with the girls who followed The Local Youths around on tour. This wasn’t a game Davis was playing… not anymore. Jordan had assumed a place of real importance in his life. Just when that had happened, Davis couldn’t say, nor could he tell how significant those feelings might turn out to be. For now, all he knew with sudden clarity was that Jordan was more to him than a conquest—more than a mere proof that he hadn’t lost his edge.
In two days they would say good-bye, never to see each other again. Maybe Jordan would be glad of that, but Davis didn’t look forward to their parting. A fierce need for one more chance with her, one more blissful hour with Jordan in his arms, gripped him so tightly he nearly gasped aloud. But as badly as he wanted to hold her again, he wouldn’t piss her off more than he already had by taunting her into it. Once they said good-bye, Davis would remember Jordan with the warmest of feelings—the hottest of feelings. He didn’t have much hope that she would look back on their time together with a smile, but at least Davis could try to minimize her scowls.
“Hey,” Jordan finally answered. Then, as if speaking had broken a spell that haunted her, she abruptly shook her head and half turned away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—”
The sudden shyness and uncertainty was so unlike her that Davis couldn’t help a surprised chuckle. “It’s all right. What did you want?”
Davis had thought perhaps she only wanted to call his attention to some more amazing scenery or let him know the boat would be sailing again soon… but when Jordan bit her lip and allowed her gaze to rake his body, Davis tensed with thrilled disbelief. His immediate instinct told him to make some sly, self-congratulatory remark: Oh, so that’s what you want. Such a comment would have suited a groupie just fine—they were as much about the game as he was. But Jordan was an altogether different animal.
Silently, Davis stepped back into his cabin, out of her line of sight. But he left the door open. Would she come to him, or had she already gone too far for her own comfort? He heard footsteps on the shining teak floorboards and couldn’t tell whether they were coming nearer or retreating toward the ladder—toward her exit. But just as Davis was sure she was leaving and his heart began to sink, Jordan appeared on the door’s threshold.
She stared at him with wordless intensity. A faint tremor of anticipation wracked her body. Her face was pale, her lower lip still held in her teeth. Davis said nothing, but spread his arms wide, offering his embrace. And though he saw her throat tense as she swallowed hard against her inhibitions, she stepped forward, into his arms.
Davis held back a groan of eager wonder as he pulled her slender body against his. She felt so good, so right. Nothing in his life felt like this, not anymore—purely positive, a source of intoxicating delight, with no hint of worry, sadness, or fear. He bent his neck and pressed his mouth against Jordan’s neck, but he didn’t kiss her—not yet. Slowly, he inhaled the scent of her skin and hair, savoring the one thing in the world aside from music that could soothe him. She smelled like the warm sun and the bright, clean salt of the water, with a faint, clinging undertone of diesel—a strange scent on a woman’s skin, but all the more compelling for its unusual nature.
“Kiss me,” Jordan whispered hoarsely.
“Are you sure you want—”
She pulled back from his embrace so she could gaze up at him, and her dark brown eyes were serious. “Yes, I’m sure. I want you to do what you did before. All of it.”
He could see that the admission cost her some effort, and he frowned slightly, wondering why. Then he felt the shivers wracking her body—were they caused by anticipation or anxiety?—and he understood exactly what she meant.
He held her by the chin and tilted her face up. “You mean you want me to call all the shots again?”
Jordan nodded in his grip.
Davis kissed her with a sudden force that made her gasp through her nose. Her shivering grew stronger and she bunched the sleeves of his t-shirt in her fists, as if she might possibly tear off his clothes, if only she could overcome the weakening of her knees, the fluttering of her heart. His cock throbbed in jeans that suddenly seemed far too tight, and when he pulled her hips against his own, a delicious ache spread from his groin until it pulsed throughout his entire body.
When she felt how hard he was, Jordan uttered a soft whimper—a sound that only fueled Davis’s hunger. He kissed her more forcefully, gripped by a desire to have her, to consumer her greedily, sating his need on her trembling but willing body. Her back bent under the force of his kiss; he could feel her soft breasts pressing against his chest.
Without breaking their kiss, Davis pushed her backward, one step at a time, until her butt came to rest against the edge of the bed. He reached down and held her, cupping her firm, round ass with both hands. He wanted to go slowly, to savor this moment and make it linger so he cou
ld have plenty of vivid memories to keep him company when this vacation was far in the past. But his ravenous desire to take her was too great. The way she had come to him, shaking and shy, all but confessing her need to give him control… it turned him on more than any woman ever had before. There was something magical about this: the ruthlessly straight-laced, downright bossy captain melting in his arms, changing into someone he almost didn’t recognize—panting with need, submitting to his commands. The secret juxtaposition in Jordan, her dual nature of rigid commander and purring sex kitten, tore Davis’s senses away completely. Desperate to have her even while she writhed in his arms, he tightened his grip on her ass until she whimpered with mingled pleasure and pain.
“Sorry,” he muttered, afraid he had really hurt her.
But Jordan answered by biting his lip, her hands stroking up the back of his neck into his hair. Davis shivered at the opposite sensations, the lightness of her touch and the sharp pinch of her teeth.
He leaned her back until she lay on the bed. Davis held back, waiting to see what she would do, whether she would try to speed things along as she had before. She gripped the hem of her tank top, but made no attempt to remove it. She only twisted it in her fingers, giving a small, high whine of frustration.
“What do you want?” he asked gently.
Jordan bit her lip again, but said nothing.
“Tell me.”
She writhed a moment, fighting with her inner need to remain in control. But she finally admitted with a gasp, “I want you to fuck me.”
Hearts on Fire: Romance Multi-Author Box Set Anthology Page 106