by Demi Alex
Shit. She craved those things. And for a single day, she’d experienced them with Ford, a complete stranger. A stranger who now knew her true identity. Any possibility she had with Ford, a self-proclaimed no long-term relationship man, was over.
* * *
“Chère, I’m not sure what is going on inside that beautiful head of yours, but I do know that I don’t like your frown,” he said. “I’m here. Nobody else. For as long as you’re with me, it’s on me to keep a smile on your face.”
“On you? Why?”
“Because I choose to.” Ford touched her chin and tilted her face to his. Looking into her eyes, eyes that lacked the brightness he’d seen from her all day, he was lost as to why she’d shut down and withdrawn. “You’re with me. I have your back, Charlie.” And he wanted all of her. Fuck the cruise line restrictions. If he made love to her, showed her how—made love? Where the fuck did that come from? They needed sex. Wild, animalistic fucks to satisfy their bodies and get on with scheduled life.
“Don’t think, Charlie,” he said, dropping his hand to her waist. “Write the article. Do your work. And stay here, with me, in the present. I want you with me.”
Yes. He wanted her. It was selfish, but he really wanted her. He needed to sate the need to have her, every which way, make it so damn good for her that the brightness in her eyes would light up the darkest of rooms.
She didn’t reply, but hope sparked in the blue of her eyes. He’d said something right.
“I’ll see to my work in the morning, and I’ll let you write or do whatever it is you need to do for your work.” He lowered his head and pressed his lips against the soft curve of her neck. “But after breakfast, you’re mine. Good thoughts. Big smiles. Explosive orgasms. All mine.”
The way her breath hitched at the mention of orgasms, and the manner in which she arched into him the moment his tongue tasted her delicious skin told him what he needed to know. His Charlie’s physical desires had been knocked down by some asshole, probably the same asshole she’d married and who had tried to swindle her family out of tons of money. There was some warped sense of guilt that stole her light and weighed her down. Guilt that was unfounded. She held no responsibility in those actions. She wasn’t wrong in wanting a good sex life.
“With me, you’ll have what you need.” Realizing he’d spoken aloud, he didn’t explain when she turned a questioning gaze on him. He cupped her backside and lifted her onto her toes as he pulled her tight against him. The blush in her cheeks confirmed his instincts, so he pressed her further. He was going to make it okay for her to want.
“During this sailing, you’re mine,” he continued, bending down to accommodate her stature against his tall frame. His fingers roamed beneath the lingerie and skimmed the warmth between her legs. “This is mine.” His left hand slid between her thighs, and sweetness coated his fingers. “These are mine.” He moved his right hand to her breast and pushed back the lace triangle, uncovering a rose-tinged nipple and circling his thumb around the tip until it stood at attention. “You don’t choose what is good for you and what is not. I do. You take what I give you, any way I choose to give it to you. Understand?”
She nodded, her hands linked behind his neck as she attempted to keep her feet on the floor. He didn’t allow her to find her own balance. If she did, she could turn away and shut him out. Wrapping his arm tighter around her, he palmed her between her legs and lifted her off the ground, sliding his hand against her wet heat.
“You remain primed and sweet for me,” he ground, nipping at her hard nipple and tearing away the material covering her other breast to pinch the tip.
She glanced at her exposed breast, having no idea that his body shielded her from the security camera’s view, but she didn’t object as heat colored her creamy skin. Charlie’s breath came fast, and his body reacted to the brightness he saw in her eyes. Brightness glazed with desire. It was back. He’d brought it back. He had guessed correctly. She longed to be told, needed handling, and in turn gained security and relief when he stepped up with commands.
“You’re going to lock the contents of your goodie basket into the safe. You will not indulge without me tonight. I will decide when and where you come next. Your orgasms are no longer up to you.” There. He’d taken the control that weighed her down. Reluctantly, he lowered her feet to the floor. He kept a hand at her back, liking the fact that it took her some time to find her balance.
“I’m going to count to five,” he said, pressing his fingers into her heated flesh. Wanting her to think of nothing but his words as she drifted to sleep, he issued an ultimatum. “If that sweet ass isn’t locked inside your cabin by the time I’m done, I’m taking you right here.”
She gasped, but didn’t move.
“One,” he began, sliding the keycard in the slot. “Bend you at the waist and satisfy my need. I’d appreciate it if you do stay.”
Her hand nervously rubbed at her neck. She held her breath as she glanced down the hall and then back at him.
“Two.” The lock clicked and he pushed on the door. “Make that little charm play against your clit.”
“Ford,” she gasped, settling her hand on his chest. “How am I supposed to sleep with your vivid storytelling fresh in my mind?”
“Three.” He touched a fingertip to her mouth, and pushed past her lips, which suckled him in. “Make you drip pleasure down your thighs as I take you from behind.”
Her lips parted, mouth gaped, and her pupils dilated.
“Four.”
She turned and ducked past him and into the cabin. The lock clicked into place.
“Five,” he breathed, dropping his forehead to the cold metal of the door. Fuck. Images of burying himself in her lush warmth burned in his brain. She’d been correct about vivid images causing insomnia. He would certainly never get any sleep.
He let out a long breath and turned away. Pulling his phone from his pocket as he walked to the stairs, he typed.
I’ll pick you up at 9:45. Be done with your work. Be ready. You walk out to me and surrender yourself when I knock. Sweet dreams, baby.
Good night, Ford.
Chapter Seventeen
Charlie’s gloriously pleased expression had disappeared with no explanation. He wasn’t sure of the trigger, but it had happened at the point when he’d mentioned her ex. He could have kicked himself for doing that to her. He wanted to shake her and make her understand life wasn’t about past hurts. And he would have, if he truly believed she was hung up on the asshole. Something else silenced her light and set worry lines on her forehead. More than James’s sleazy money scam. More than the publicity of their divorce.
Rinsing the lather from his skin, he stepped from the shower stall and toweled off. He was in over his head. This obsession with Charlie had seeped into his pores and gnawed at him as only a woman’s distress could. As only a woman who mattered could.
He grabbed a second towel and swiped it over his head. The unfamiliar pressure in his chest grew, so he resolved to get to sleep as soon as possible and to wake in the morning, thinking with his cock, not his heart. Thinking with his cock was easier than feeling. He’d get his fill of the woman, give her what she needed to break away from the chains that held her back, and through mutual sexual gratification—fucking awesome sex, he knew—they’d get on with the daily routines of their lives.
* * *
After tossing and turning in bed, and replaying his words in her mind for hours, Charlie managed to get ninety minutes of sleep. Not nearly what was required for the Sunrise Yoga class she was meeting Quinn for. It was just six thirty. They had half an hour of positions to accomplish and hold before the sun climbed into the sky. She should walk to his cabin and cancel, explain how the pajama party had kept her up too late. She absolutely would not admit that it was Ford’s whispered promise of taking her in the hallway that had kept her awake into the wee hours of the morning.
She inched her way out of bed and into the bathroom, still trying to in
terpret his words. Would he? How? Where? Those questions had both thrilled and scared her in the dark.
A knock sounded on the door, and she realized she’d missed her chance to crawl back into bed. She wrapped a towel around her and stood behind the door as she motioned for Quinn to come in.
“You didn’t need to dress for me, baby doll,” he said, dropping an all-too-awake kiss on her head and swatting her ass. “Looks like someone needs some kitty stretches because she may have stayed in the very agreeable downward-dog position way too long last night.” He looked down at her knees, one of which was a little red and scratched, and made a show of raising his brow.
“Ha ha ha, you’re not funny,” she said, pushing past him and opening the top drawer. She held up her favorite Lululemon pants, with pink and maroon splatters, that smoothed over her like a glove, and a solid maroon double strap bra. “Turn,” she said, spinning her finger and asking for Quinn’s back. “I need to dress.”
“You walk out in those, I’ll have a boner the whole class,” he grumbled.
“Deal,” she said, stepping into the pants and settling them just above her hips. She pulled on the top, bent over and fit her boobs into it properly, then gave him the okay to turn back around. “Hair up, then we can go.”
“Damn, baby doll. You have a fine ass,” he said, as she leaned over the nightstand for a hair tie. “A man could lose himself in that little piece of heaven all night.”
From behind. Ford’s voice sounded in her mind. She glanced back at Quinn, but didn’t respond.
“Don’t get me wrong, there’s plenty of you to enjoy. You’re the complete package, but we’re not even going to speak about your incredible mind or beautiful heart. We’re sticking to tits, ass, and pussy.” He gave her a slow head-to-toe inspection and nodded. “Regardless of the definition or what we limit our conversation to, you’re the total package, baby doll. Like I told you, that bastard is one lucky man. He gets inside that sweet ass and he’s going to lose his mind.”
“Stop,” she said and sidestepped his big frame. Combing her fingers through her hair, she pulled it into a loose bun atop her head. “We’re not going to spend the morning talking about dick and ass.”
Damn, she’d spent the night thinking about those very things.
“What’s up, Charlie? You don’t like sex like that?”
She couldn’t look at him, but he sounded sincere. Even concerned. So she just shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“You’ve never been—”
“No,” she interrupted. “Stop.”
“Okay, baby doll. I didn’t know.” Regret colored his good looks, creeping up his neck and settling in the pulsing at his temples. “Just wanted to tease you.” He gathered her into his arms and pressed her cheek to his chest. “I was trying to wake you up and make you laugh. I didn’t realize you were sensitive about it and it would bother you.”
“I’m not sensitive.” She was just totally inexperienced. “I was married.” Married to a man who scheduled sex two times a week, in bed, with the lights off, and the routine lasted less than ten minutes for each session. “Maybe just a little sensitive,” she admitted.
“Was he a bad lover?”
She shrugged, and then nodded.
“Your first?”
More nodding. James was practically her only . . . anything. Other than a few alcohol-encouraged heavy make-out sessions before him, and some attempts at foreplay since him, their scheduled missionary events made up the bulk of her experience. Until Ford, of course.
“Anyone better since?”
Shrug. She didn’t think he was referring to Ford. Her vibrator didn’t count. And while she’d dated, fooled around a little, there was nothing and no one who had rocked her world. But then again, there was Ford.
“I got my best kiss ever yesterday,” she whispered into Quinn’s shirt. “Best anything. Yesterday.”
“It’s about time. You deserve the best of everything. Just look at yourself in the mirror.” He tickled the small of her back and kissed the top of her head. “I hate to say it, but Luis and I talked about the way you fit with him. You look real good together. As if you’re made for each other. You should see the hungry way he devours the pretty sight of you.”
“Ford says and does the right things. He meets every requirement on a hot guy checklist. And that’s the problem,” she said, pulling away and fixing her hair. She picked up the eye drops near the mirror and hoped they’d remove the red in her eyes. “I can get used to that.”
“And why is that a problem?” Quinn asked, reaching into the bathroom and grabbing two folded towels from the shelf.
“Because,” she said, leading them out of the room, “he’s not a relationship kind of man.” She glanced up at her friend and inhaled some courage to make her admission. Damn, they’d already shared so much. “I don’t want to get hurt.”
“No guy is a relationship guy until that person comes along.” Quinn fell in step beside her and wrapped a reassuring arm around her waist. “I’m willing to bet you’re that person for him. He’s very into you. It doesn’t look like a temporary fling to me.” They reached the stairs and he gave her a questioning glance.
She shook her head. “Elevator.”
“Baby girl, you have an opportunity to have the best sex of your life. Don’t ruin that chance.” Quinn hit the call button, and they watched the elevator ascend to their floor. “I think Ford knows how to do it right and make it good. Real good. Let him take the reins, and you enjoy the ride.”
“Like I can do anything else,” she breathed. “Anyway, we’re kind of screwed. We can’t be alone on the ship. Can’t hook up in the traditional way. You know he can’t come into the passenger cabins without losing his job.”
“I know. He mentioned how he needs to invest this bonus he’s receiving to make his plans a reality.” This time Quinn shrugged. “But I’m surprised he’s allowing his position to rule his actions. While you were working in your cabin, Luis and Ford talked about the benefits of self-employment and business startups for a long time yesterday. I get that he wants the money to make the transition smooth, but I thought he’d be able to come up with it some other way. So I’m not sure why a regular job matters to him so much.”
“It doesn’t,” she said, stepping into the glass elevator and staring at the ornate promenade at her feet. “He’s suggested we disembark in Cozumel. Says he’s willing to drive us to New York so we could have privacy.”
“You know Cozumel is an island, right?”
“Yes, I know. Ford said we could ferry to the mainland,” she added.
“Then why not?” Quinn asked. “Take him up on it. Let loose and enjoy.”
The corners of her lips immediately turned up in a smile. She’d heard that before. Said it herself. Funny how Quinn would use the same words. She went up on her toes and gave her new friend a quick peck as the doors opened.
“It’s my job,” she explained, grabbing a towel off his shoulder and turning toward the group that had gathered for the class. “It’s too important to me. I want my byline. I want my name on the masthead, and in a very prominent way, one day. It’s going to be hard, rewarding work. Plus, I want to prove that I have more in me than my family thinks. I can’t leave the ship without all the material I need.”
Quinn nodded and collected two mats off a pile. He handed one to Charlie, taking her elbow and holding her still. He leaned down, as if about to share a state secret, and kissed her cheek. “Some things are worth the risk, Charlie.”
“I figured that out, my friend. I’m in.”
* * *
Forty-five minutes of stretches and deep breathing did their job in relaxing and refreshing Charlie. Her disappointment had cleared and her doubts about a physical relationship with Ford had faded. He knew who she was, knew about her family, and yet he hadn’t changed the way he’d treated her. Ford didn’t handle her with kid gloves because she was a Stanton. He treated her like a woman he wanted beneath him in bed. A
nd she was a woman who wanted to be beneath him, above him, anywhere near him.
“Thank you,” she told Quinn as he handed her a skinny latte. “For the coffee and the advice. You’re a good friend.”
“Yeah,” he grumbled with a grin on his face. “My pleasure.”
Carrying a plate of mini pastries, they headed back up to sit on deck and enjoy the morning. “What was his name?” Quinn asked. “Your husband’s.”
“Ex-husband,” she corrected. “James.”
“How long were you together?”
“We were together for almost three years, married and living as husband and wife for seven months, then fighting in divorce court for twenty-two months.” She sipped on her latte, grateful it was all behind her. “He thought the longer he could drag it out, the more money he’d get out of us—until all his doings came to light.”
“Gold digger then?”
“Totally,” she confirmed. “Good thing he’s in the past. The lawyers made the prenup stick. Daddy terminated his contract. Then he got arrested for embezzling. He’s serving time.”
“So, James was a gold-digger crook who sucked in bed.”
“No. He didn’t suck or want to be sucked,” she said, laughing at the predictable sex routine he’d insisted on. “Tuesdays and Fridays. No sucking.”
“His loss. You’re hot.”
“Thank you.” She was lucky to have found a confidant like Quinn.
* * *
Ford had a full day at sea to court, yes court, his woman. He intended to do so with everything he had. Charlie pulling away had raised red flags, not only for them, but also for him personally. A damn alarm had gone off in his mind, and he had no choice than to rethink his no-relationship policy. He’d thought. He’d decided.
Charlie was worth changing his policy. He wanted the chance at a relationship with Miss Charlene Stanton.