Spitting out tiny slivers of paper into her hand, she caught Nikki coming out of the bathroom. “Why did you leave me like that?”
“Your gorgeous man was coming over to our table.” Her mouth was now clear of food. “I had syrup dripping down my chin.”
“He is really good looking, isn’t he?” She wiped her hands on a napkin, grateful her mouth was empty.
“What did he want?” Nikki asked.
“To say hi. I made him blush. Go figure.” Her own cheeks hadn’t entirely cooled down and something told her they were going to be on fire this entire trip.
Nikki set her slender shoulders back. “Come on. Let’s go find Jonathan.”
After a brisk walk around the jogging promenade and not finding her boss, they took a break. Laney strolled to a yoga class while Nikki headed straight for the casino.
The near-empty studio smelled of lilacs. A few women sat cross-legged in the back, chitchatting. Preferring to stretch, Laney dropped to her borrowed mat and crammed her head between her legs hoping those two would shut up when the class started.
The door opened again and the gasps made Laney look up.
Tristan swaggered in, confidence leaping off his golden skin. Great, now she had to worry about balancing on one foot with him watching.
At her gym in the city, men strutted into yoga classes carrying their manly purple mats and wore flip flops. Tristan’s sneakers and athletic tee-shirt were a nice surprise.
He stopped in front of her mat and eyed her with concern. “Hey there.”
“Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m on the floor on purpose this time,” she informed him with a playful smile.
“Darn. You already don’t need me.” He dumped a cruise-provided mat next to hers. “You inspired me to get some center.”
Laney scrambled to put more room between them, figuring a man that big needed space.
“I don’t bite, you know,” Tristan stated wryly.
Laney would let this guy bite her. Anywhere. She peeked back at the two women, realizing she wasn’t alone in that thought. Their yapping stopped, the silence now loud as a gong. Amidst hushed whispers, one pointed rudely at Laney while the other smacked frantically at her phone. What the heck?
Ignoring them, Tristan draped himself over his thighs. “This is a good stretch to start with. Most instructors usually just sit and do that Ohm shit.”
“Ohm.” When he eyeballed her, she said, “Oh. Ohm.”
“Hilarious.”
What was going on? Were they friends now?
“You should stretch, too.” Tristan’s stare in the soft light and the color of his eyes brought out her designer-side.
“Your eyes are gold, you know?” Enthralled, she leaned over to see better. “Please tell me those are contacts. Or did I die when I fell yesterday?” She wouldn’t mind this being her heaven.
“No, you’re very much alive,” he quickly responded. “My optometrist calls them pure hazel. They usually look amber. But sometimes...” He cleared his throat. “They change colors.”
When he’s turned on, perhaps? Like last night when he kissed her so hard, his eyes must have turned wolfish yellow.
“Well, they’re...nice,” she uttered and thought about Nikki’s advice.
Practice flirting...
“What color would your optometrist call mine?” She leaned in again and batted her eyelashes.
“I can’t see. Stop blinking so fast.” He gave a laugh. “I would say, ocean blue. Fitting, since water is all around us.”
The women in the corner glared at Laney like they wanted her in the water. “You make me sound exotic. I’ll be using that one, ocean blue, from now on, thank you.” She propped up on her knees and extended one leg.
“You’re welcome. And those calves are very impressive, but they look tight. You need to stretch more.”
“Yes, sir.” She stood and swan-dived into a full bendy-thing. “Ah.”
Tristan opened his mouth to comment, but closed it when a score of women spilled into the studio. Winded, flushed, and not wearing anything resembling yoga-gear, they sloppily grabbed at mats, pushing each other out of the way. The winner broke off from the pyramid of fallen women and rushed to get a spot near her and Tristan.
Laney jumped when he slammed his water bottle down in the eighteen-inch space between them. The woman bristled and turned away. She tossed her mat back in the bin and left.
The runner-up, however, cast her eyes down at Laney. “Can I get in there?” she asked, pointing a manicured finger.
Laney took note of all the empty spots. Before she responded, Tristan tugged at her mat, and said, “This is her first time. I’m helping her.”
The woman’s smile melted away into a slash of disapproval. After a nervous swallow, Laney tried to leave, but Tristan held her back.
“There are a few spots over there,” Tristan said in a low octave with a smile that could melt an iceberg.
The woman blushed and placed her mat directly in front of him.
The instructor finally arrived and set the room in order. The first few minutes of the chanting Tristan had warned about had Laney regretting that class decision. Even more than the woman who looked like she was ready to throw down.
Watching the instructor and ignoring the curvy ass with a not-so-subtle outline of a thong in front of her challenged Laney more than the pretzel pose she found herself in.
“What’s this called again?” she asked Tristan in a breathless rush.
“Triangle,” he whispered, molding her body into the pose without asking. “Twist your shoulder and pull your right arm up.”
She felt so off-balance, but perfectly relaxed at the same time. The instructor’s cryptic instructions would have snapped her spine like a Thanksgiving Day wishbone. Once Tristan glided her into the position, her hips softened into a wonderful stretch. Her inner thighs tingled from the pressure and her waist felt rubbery. “This feels amazing.”
“It’s one of my favorite poses. Let’s revolve this and catch the other side.”
He twisted Laney’s body and shifted her in the opposite direction. “Ow!”
“Revolved Triangle is tough.” He kept her steady. “You need to be very flexible.”
While Triangle made her feel like a graceful ballerina, the revolved version felt like she was playing Twister. And losing.
Tristan
THE MINUTE TRISTAN had woken up, his unsatisfied hard-on begged for attention, and Laney came to mind with the first stroke he gave to his needy cock. He came in record time, then again, it’d been months since he’d had sex. After a shower, he busted out of his cabin to clear his head and hoped the walk to get breakfast would put him back in vacation-fling mode.
When he found Laney sitting at his breakfast table, he froze, and again, the man he needed to be on the cruise to enjoy a week of no-strings fun had vanished.
Mine.
Last night, the shadowy bar and ambient sconces had framed Laney’s face in an angelic light. Tristan had found her beauty unique. A rare combination of natural, friendly, soft, and sweet. He saw her as delicate. Something special. Something to treasure.
Under his hands right now in the yoga class, Laney felt strong and firm. Her toned arms were the color of ripe peaches, and on the inside curve of her elbow, dark blue veins promised rich blood flowed underneath. She looked so alive. Her long sable hair bunched in a ponytail gleamed with strips of honey-gold. Reminding him of his own eyes.
Putting his mouth on her after the drink had rocked the crap out of him. He never kissed someone on this cruise and since his only on-land activities had been with Beth... He gasped realizing Laney had been the first woman he’d kissed since graduating college ten years ago.
What the hell?
To maintain his focus and sanity right now, he positioned his fingers further up to keep a layer of fabric between his sweaty palms and Laney’s waist. Her curvy body pleasantly deviated from all the stick figures walking around New York City. He considered her v
oluptuous and by no means fat.
She swallowed a gulp of air, exhaled, and stretched deeper into the pose. Her body lengthened and the rim of her pants tracked back below her rounded hips. You wear lace panties, huh?
A glance around the room revealed both gooey stares and beady eyes full of jealous contempt. He scrunched his face in displeasure at the hateful expressions and moved closer to Laney.
She followed the class like a pro. Her vinyasas were graceful and she looked damn impressive in Downward Facing Dog. She pulled off Crane, balanced her way through the Eagle poses, and managed a modified head-stand. The lights dimmed signaling the class was winding down and everyone got into Corpse pose.
In his city classes, the instructors came around with calming oils. He had the sudden urge to rub Laney’s temples himself. That would be a massive mistake on several levels and might lead to more confusing kissing. He hadn’t gotten over the taste of her mouth.
Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw Laney against her cabin door. Kissing him, holding him. Clinging to him like he was a life raft. Like it meant something to her. She’d been a little tipsy, but not sloshed. Drunk women didn’t do it for him. The alcohol had emboldened her, he suspected. Kissing and writhing against a stranger wasn’t Laney. No matter how good she was at it.
There. That’s what got him. She wasn’t like the other women in his group who wanted anyone and everyone. She’d said she was only there to have a meaningless fling with her boss and seemed a touch obsessed about him. He would be too if he’d wanted someone for three years.
Three years, she had to go to work and see that guy. Christ, she must have gone insane on a daily basis. Would the idiot turn Laney down and crush her?
While he hated the idea of those gorgeous legs wrapped around any waist other than his, that bastard better not hurt her.
He found it odd she didn’t want a relationship with the guy. Didn’t want a relationship with anyone, it seemed. He thought all girls wanted a commitment.
The beast Tristan became on this cruise wasn’t who Laney wanted. And he wanted someone he could throw himself into and know she could take it.
He closed his eyes, melted into the final pose, and forced all these crazy thoughts of Laney Hathaway out of his head.
Laney
LANEY TOOK A DEEP BREATH and rolled over into a fetal position. She appreciated Tristan’s help, even though he touched her like the skin beneath her burnout tee-shirt might ignite on fire any moment. It didn’t matter what he thought of her, which made it easy to relax around him.
She was in sore need of flirting practice, though, and she had to be on her game when she bumped into Jonathan. Wherever the hell he was. If nothing else, Laney needed to know what would and wouldn’t work. Perhaps she should try to seduce Tristan.
The instructor had said to change sides, but Laney remained where she was. Her lips curled into a smile while she drummed up the courage to ask Tristan to get a cup of coffee. Or something else. Like more of that kissing.
She opened her eyes, but Tristan was gone.
Sighing, she gave one last stretch and hung back to let the others fly out of the studio to run after him.
With the coast clear, Laney strolled from the yoga studio corridor to the open deck comparing Jonathan to Tristan. Who would catch more women? Duh.
The yoga class gave her a bouncy spring to her step and her spine felt longer, too. She stopped to take another stretch. Ignoring the stares, she used the railing as a ballet barre. Feeling like Odette in Swan Lake, she extended her legs one at a time; out and back, ending with a graceful Plié.
“That’s her,” a woman’s voice cried out.
When Laney lifted her head, four angry legs lumbered in her direction. What the heck?
“Yo, missy...” A woman wearing more makeup at ten am than Laney had with her on the ship came at her first. “Let me explain how it works here.”
“It’s obvious she’s never done this before,” said another woman, who at least didn’t look like she wanted to toss Laney overboard.
“Then she needs to be taught!” Clown Lady snapped at Nice Lady.
Laney raised both hands in the defensive position she learned in her Krav Maga classes. “I don’t know what you think I’ve done.” She hadn’t looked at anyone. Except for Tristan. Uh-oh.
“We come on this cruise every year and there’s always some I had no idea fool who jumps the line and hogs the hottest guy on the ship,” Clown Lady informed her.
“Are you talking about Tristan Hart?” Laney asked.
Stunned expressions crossed both their faces, as they glanced at each other.
“Hey, we’re not saying you can’t have fun with Tris, too,” Nice Lady spoke gently. “Just wait in line like the rest of us so we can all have a turn.”
“And I get him first.” A blonde with enormous breasts strutted forward after the other two cleared a path.
Get in line? Have a turn? What on earth were these women talking about? Were they stalking Tristan? For his money perhaps? Crap, that shit was real.
Fueled by her protective instincts, Laney considered leaping forward to tell these stalkers to stay the hell away from him. The small mob outnumbered her, though, making it likely she’d be tasting saltwater. Or at least suffocated by those enormous breasts.
“Come on, Cass,” Clown Lady said, pulling Boobalicious away. “She got the message.”
“I just hope Tris has something left for me, after you, Cass.” Nice Lady shuffled behind.
“Did you know Tristan Hart was his real name?” Clown Lady’s question faded as they strolled away.
Why did those women think they had a right to Tristan? Or Tris. That’s the name he’d given those women? And not even his last name. I don’t tell people here my last name. Not people. Or those women. Only...her.
And how about that crazy banana comment about forming a line? Taking a turn?
Laney sighed, wondering if she’d find a Sleeping with Tristan event on the program calendar. She’d get on that line, no questions asked.
CHAPTER FIVE
Laney
After dinner, the eerily silent and empty promenade gave Laney the creeps. Not a soul to be seen.
“Where is everyone?” Nikki asked, strolling along, noticing too.
“I have no idea,” Laney answered, sliding her hands along the railing. Are they all lining up for Tristan? It would take a lot before the conversation with the stalkers left her thoughts.
The sharp wind whisked its way through the open corridors, but couldn’t compete with the expensive cabernet she drank at dinner. The wine had warmed her up enough to skip her usual sweater and just wrap herself up in her favorite gauzy scarf.
“God, those colors are gorgeous.” Nikki took out her phone and snapped a photo of the blue ombre sky brightened along the horizon with streaks of gold. “That combo would make a beautiful fabric.”
Laney smiled at how nicely the blue and gold complemented each other, like hers and Tristan’s eyes.
The next warm gust unraveled Laney’s scarf right off her shoulders. “Shoot.”
She scrambled across the deck and followed the red and silver wrap as it dipped and swayed across the glossy wooden planks. Another wild breeze blew it further taking her several feet at a fast pace toward the edge of the deck.
She caught it right before it sailed gracefully into the sea. “Gotcha.”
With the scarf tightly in her grasp, she spun around to get back to Nikki, but a haze of light spilling onto the deck from a small meeting room caught her attention.
Curious, she stepped closer, but her heart spiked fierce against her chest when she spotted a small sticker under the room number.
Devil horns!
Laney eased the door open, thankful the crowd faced the other side of the room. Her heart beat wildly in her chest, drowning out the speaker’s voice. The conference center with its drab colors and boring fabrics looked like it hadn’t seen a designer in decades. Could she have mi
staken all the salacious hints up until now for something as dull as motivational speeches? The large stand-up banner next to the door provided Laney with great cover to listen without being noticed.
“Yes, and that’s why I’m suggesting all men use condoms.”
Laney’s ears perked up. Now we’re talking!
“What happened to personal choice?” a female’s voice in the front, asked.
“He said it was a suggestion, Cass, God.” Another voice jumped in after the crowd broke up into smaller groups of people.
Laney slapped her hand over her mouth recognizing Boobalicious from earlier that day.
“I’m not signing this.” Boobalicious crumpled the paper in her neatly manicured fingers. Her incredibly large breasts jiggled in her dress while a man behind her salivated openly.
“They just want to be indemnified. There’s so much craziness going on, Cass.” Another woman bent over and signed the paper on a table. Nice Lady!
“When this cruise was specifically for us, all this small print was in the online contract,” Clown Lady said, signing as well. Laney could see her neon blue eyeshadow from space. “The fact that we’re signing this thing makes it less likely to argue we didn’t see it.”
“What could happen, though?” Nice Lady asked.
“Who cares?” Boobalicious pulled a tube of bright red lip gloss from her clutch purse. “We’re here to get laid. Hard. Every night. This isn’t prom. Men are here to fuck us and we’re here to let them.”
Laney gasped. These Hedonism on the High Seas stalkers were after Tristan, who thankfully, she didn’t see in this room. Curiosity rippling through her, she strained her neck to catch a glimpse at these men who came here for so-called hard sex, every night. Probably losers who couldn’t get laid without willing women.
Laney’s throat got tight, realizing she was there for a little free-love herself. But she wanted one man, not a team of them.
She peeked around the banner again and sized up each guy until a familiar set of shoulders came into view. Jonathan! What the ever-loving mother of God? He was part of that crowd of men and women looking for no-strings sex?
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