Rock the Boat

by Gia Riley

“Yeah? Even though I’m not inked up? I don’t have any piercings other than my ears. You won’t find any leather in my closet either.”

  “For starters, I prefer black lace, like those tiny scraps you wear.”

  “What else do you like?”

  “It’s not really the piercings or body art that matters, or what you have and don’t have. All that matters is you. You’re sexy without even trying, and that makes you my favorite type.”

  “You’re the complete opposite of the men I’ve dated. If I’m being honest, that scares me a little, but I think I’m more worried about your lifestyle than anything. Can I ask you something?”

  “Yeah, but if you ask me if I’ve ever cheated I might not like it.”

  “How did you know that’s what I was going to say?”

  “Because it’s one of the reasons why your last relationship didn’t work out. If you weren’t concerned, I’d know you weren’t taking me seriously—and we were just fucking around.”

  “I thought this was no expectations.”

  “You don’t need expectations to be a good person.”

  “Does that mean you won’t answer my question?” I’m not sure why it matters so much to hear his answer. For all I know, he could lie to me, completely ruining the faith I’ve been able to find in him. Then again, he could tell me he has, and that approach wouldn’t be any better. All I really need is the truth—in whatever form it comes.

  He doesn’t seem upset as he pulls me on top of him, his strong body pressing against mine. I could easily get lost in that, forgetting about the conversation entirely. But his eyes lure me in, telling a story of their own. “I’ve been accused of some pretty shitty stuff over the years, but not once have I ever cheated on my girlfriend. Because there’s one thing you need to realize about me, and I don’t want you to ever forget it.”

  “I won’t.” He hasn’t even told me yet, but I already believe him.

  “Lark, if you have me, you have all of me—that’s a damn promise.”

  Once I have my answer—an answer I desperately needed, I rest my cheek against his chest, playing with the barbell piercing his nipple. “Thank you for keeping your pants up.”

  His laughter bounces me around, but he holds onto me so I don’t fall off the mattress. “Baby, I’m not wearing any.”

  “You know what I mean—hypothetically speaking. I wasn’t sure if you’d be honest about it, or tell me what you thought I wanted to hear.”

  Before I realize what’s happening, I’m flat on my back with a determined Easton holding himself up on either side of me. “Let’s get one thing straight, gorgeous. When I want someone, I want all of them—mind, body, and soul. That means I give as much trust as I take. I’ve never cheated on a woman in my life. I’m not about to start with you.”

  They’re the exact words I needed to hear from him. That despite his job, and how many women he comes into contact with on a daily basis, that I would always be enough for him. “When you first told me you worked on the ship, I was a little worried there could be someone else. Six months is a long time to go without sex.”

  “There was a dealer in the casino I spent some time with the first three months of my contract. Once her contract expired, she didn’t renew. I got an e-mail from her a couple days after she left telling me she was working at a casino in Vegas. That’s the last we spoke.”

  “You didn’t want to stay in touch? Did you even write her back?”

  “No, it was just sex, Lark. Once she left, we were done—that was the arrangement. I think she e-mailed me so she would be free to move on without guilt. Because even though we were only casually hooking up, I still made sure it was exclusive. I don’t share and I don’t cheat. When you’re in my bed, you better not be sneaking into anyone else’s.”

  I think about the arrangement I have with Easton and wonder if this is how he always is with women. Did the dealer get more of him than I am? Or could he be taking more chances with me because of The Perfect Match? Because when it comes down to it, I don’t have any real clue who Easton Beck is other than the couple things he’s shared with me. Maybe I am only here to give him a week of mind-blowing sex.

  As he kisses me, some of my worry disappears, and the rest of it I try to forget about. I’ve already decided that even if this is only about sex, I’ll be okay with it. I have to be because whoever the wings belong to on his back—she’s the one who will forever have his heart.

  “Will you tell me about her?”

  Easton lifts his head off my stomach, as I play with the salty strands of his hair. “Who?”

  He might get upset if I push, but after seeing the wings on his back, I have to find out why they’re there. It’s why I take a chance and ask him, “The girl—the one you sang about. These are her wings, aren’t they?” His body stiffens, like I wasn’t supposed to have figured any of him out on my own. I’ve always been able to read people well, and right now, I’m sensing Easton is hiding.

  I wait for him, giving him all the time he needs to respond, but he simply lays his head back on my stomach and says, “Not today, Lark.”

  At first I take it personal, but then I remember what it’s like to come clean about secrets you wish didn’t exist. And that’s the only reason why I’m able to wait. He’s not going to tell me about scars if the scabs still haven’t healed. We have a long way to go, but we don’t have to scale the mountain in one day. When I say, “Okay,” I mean it.

  Maybe he was expecting a fight from me, because the kiss he places on my stomach feels like a silent thank you. “I could stay like this all night, Lark, but I have to play soon.”

  “Are you kicking me out?”

  He bites my hip, not hard enough to hurt, but enough that the need for him to touch me returns. “No, I’d never kick you out, but I expect you back in my bed after the show.”

  “You expect it?” I exaggerate playfully, lifting my hips off the bed. All he would have to do is dart his tongue out the slightest bit and it would be enough for me. Instead, he slides up my body, alternating nips with his teeth and pecks with his lips.

  When he reaches my chest, he pauses. “You’d look fuckin’ sexy with one of these nipples pierced. Maybe both.”

  The thought of someone stabbing me with a needle, especially there, makes me shiver. I’m not sure I’m cut out for that kind of pain—even if it is temporary. “I’m more likely to get a tattoo before a piercing.”

  He smirks, his eyes roaming all over my inkless skin. “You should watch what you wish for. I know people.”

  Just when he looks like he might devour me, I slide out from under him, already regretting leaving the warmth of his bed as soon as the cool air from the vent hits my legs. My clothes are still wet from my bathing suit, making it seem that much colder in the room. “Shit, they’re freezing.”

  Easton reaches over the side of his bed, picking up the shirt he was wearing before tossing it at me. “As much as I hate you covered up, wear that.” The shirt hits me in the side of the face, making us both laugh as I drop everything in my hands.

  I bend over again, shoving all the wet stuff in my beach bag, before throwing his shirt over my head. It’s barely enough to cover me, but it’s warmer than standing here naked. When I turn back around, Easton has one arm under his head, and his other’s stroking his shaft as he watches me. “What are you doing?”

  “Thinking about you walking all the way to your room without anything underneath my shirt.”

  I slide the shirt up slowly, inching higher and higher until his jaw clenches and his whole body tenses. “Are you worried someone will see this?”

  “I want you to come back to me tonight—dressed just like that.”

  “This same shirt with nothing under it?”

  “Not a single thing. Understand?”

  I nod my head, swallowing hard at the sight of him—rock hard in his hand. My feet take me closer to his bed, farther away from the door and the direction I should be going. But that’s how it is wh
en I’m around Easton—it’s hard to leave and easier to stay. “Do you want help with that?”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  I let my bag fall to the floor beside the bed, my fingers tracing a path from his throat to his hand. “What do you want?”

  “Put your mouth on me, Lark.”

  I climb back on the bed with my body between his legs, but he stops me, hooking his arm under my leg and spinning me around so I’m facing away from him. Somewhere during the time it took for me to walk from the couch to the bed, this stopped being about him, and became about us.

  “Relax, baby. Lay down on top of me.”

  I didn’t even realize how rigid I was, the anticipation of what’s coming making it hard to think about anything other than the possibilities, but I listen, lying down just as he told me to. “Can I touch you now?”

  “You don’t ever have to ask for permission with me, Lark. If you want something, take it.” He takes his own advice, squeezing my ass and burying his face between my thighs.

  My back arches, the simple task of doing two things at once almost impossible. But I want him to feel as good as he’s making me feel, so I take him in my hand, stroking him a few times before swirling my tongue around his tip. He rewards me with a throaty groan that hits me straight in the core.

  Without warning, I take him the entire way in my mouth until he hits the back of my throat. I do it again and again until I can barely breathe. When I do pull my mouth off him, he does the same to me—his thumb now rubbing circles over my pulsing clit.

  I want more, and as if reading my mind he inserts two fingers. He sinks his teeth into my ass, licking and sucking around my thighs before gripping me even tighter and adding a third finger. It’s too much and perfect all at the same time. “Easton,” I beg, for what I’m not sure.

  Every time he sucks, I suck him—harder. And every time he thrusts his tongue inside me, I push his tip against the back of my throat. It’s a game of cat and mouse until we both give into the pleasure, coming harder than ever before.

  He takes one last taste of me before smacking me hard on the ass, sending one last wave of pleasure through me. I’m about to collapse on top of him, but he holds my hips, not letting me move away from him. “Turn around, baby. As much as I love the view, I need your mouth.”

  My tired legs make it hard to turn around, but I push myself back up his body until we’re face to face again—the realization of how intimate he’s become with my body making me blush. “I’ve never.”

  He shakes his head. “Don’t even tell me you’ve never done that before. I won’t believe you.”

  “No, I’ve never done it like that before. That was, different.”

  He wraps his hand around the back of my neck, pulling me closer until our lips are almost touching. “Fuck, Lark. This mouth,” he says as he licks my bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. “You feel so good on me, gorgeous.”

  I try to duck my head, but he won’t let me. He keeps me right where he wants—never once letting me shy away from the truth. “You’re going to be late for your show if you don’t let me leave.”

  He glances at the clock on the bedside table. “Pretty sure I already am.”

  I steal one last kiss before standing up and pulling his shirt back down, my legs barely sturdy enough to hold me up. “Good luck tonight.”

  He crosses his arms underneath his head on the pillow and smiles. “I already got lucky. The rest is a bonus.”

  I smile, inching out the door backwards with my bag tossed over my shoulder. Some people might call him cocky, but to me, he has just the right mix of confidence and humility. And I’m always going to fall victim to it.

  Day Three on the Cruise

  At Sea

  There was a different kind of energy in the theater last night, one that hasn’t been there in a really long time. I’m smart enough to know it had everything to do with the woman in the third row as she watched every single move I made. The way her eyes followed me around the stage, and the way her body moved to my voice—we were in perfect harmony.

  She was gone by the time I was ready to leave the theater for the night, and the walk back to my room was left with a charged electricity I knew would ignite the second she put her hands on me. It had been building from the moment she walked out of my room this morning—the anticipation of her showing up in only my T-shirt the driving force. But even she knew the provocative lyrics that were hidden well in verses of our songs would be orchestrated with our bodies.

  It’s been a long-ass time since I stayed up till dawn having sex, but when Lark’s with me, it’s all I want to do. Her body’s becoming familiar territory, the smell of her perfume on her sweet and savory skin is an instant hard-on. While she has the potential to bring me to my knees, living out fantasies only she’s capable of producing, she’s also the closest I’ve been to reality in twelve months.

  But the midnight hours flew by quickly, and the morning sun ruined our fun. If I didn’t have to work today, I’d keep her in my bed a little while longer, savoring her one more time before I said goodbye.

  “Did you take my shirt again?” she asks, as she turns in circles, her arms covering her chest like I haven’t been sucking on her for hours. Shy Lark will always be a mystery to me. I’ll never be able to wrap my head around how open she is in the moment, and completely closed up once it’s over.

  “I didn’t, but you don’t have to hide from me. I’ve seen it all.”

  She picks up the blankets and shakes them until the shirt I ripped off her body appears. “I’m not hiding. I’m just not comfortable walking around naked in the daylight.”

  I rest on my side with my elbow propping me up. “Why? You’re beautiful.”

  “It’s the way I am. I can’t help it.”

  I decide to challenge her—mostly because I have nothing better to do for the next few minutes. “Drop the shirt.”

  Her brow furrows as she stares at me. “Why?”

  “Because it’s mine and I need it back.”

  “Now I know you’re full of shit. It’s just a shirt.”

  “It’s way more than that, Lark. That shirt is my new favorite. Now, drop it.” She listens, rolling her eyes, and grabbing the sheet instead. “The sheet’s mine, too.”

  “The sheet belongs to the cruise line, asshole. You are aware I only came in your shirt—as instructed. I can’t leave here naked. They’ll arrest me.”

  “That’s a chance I’m willing to take.” I wait for her to get pissed or to say something harsher than calling me an asshole, but she doesn’t. She stands with her arms crossed, challenging me with her eyes. “Something wrong?”

  “No, not at all. You’re the one who is going to be late again, not me. I’m the one on vacation.”

  I get out of bed, walk to my closet, and pull out a clean T-shirt. When I turn around, she looks hopeful it’s for her. But I pull it over my head instead, frustrating her even more. “Easton, please.”

  “I love it when you beg. Makes me hard.”

  “What doesn’t make you hard?”

  “Grandmas.” She tries not to laugh, but fails miserably, her face breaking out into her signature smile. Fuck, she’s hot.

  Before she can say anything, I hand her another one of my shirts off the stack in the closet. As soon as it’s in her hands, she relaxes. “Thank you,” she says, as she pulls it over her head.

  I’m busy digging out something she can wear to cover her ass when she breaks out into hysterics. With my underwear in hand, I turn around, realizing I gave her the one shirt I shouldn’t have. “Well that wouldn’t have been my first choice had I looked a little harder.”

  “I don’t know, the shirt speaks for itself, Easton.” Of all the ones I could have given her, she’s wearing one that says, I’m with Stupid. It was actually a gag gift leftover from Christmas this year.

  Smiling, I toss her a pair of my boxer briefs. “Put those on. I’d rather the rest of the ship didn’t see your ass th
is morning.”

  “You didn’t seem to care about that last night.”

  “It was a lot later. There’s more people out there now.” She slides her long legs into them and I watch every single move she makes, moving closer to her as she pulls them up her thighs before rolling the waistband over at her waist to keep them in place. My hands roam over her ass, my eyes piercing hers as I tell her, “This is all mine, gorgeous. Got it?”

  She nods, her tongue darting out to lick her lips, as she stares up at me through her long lashes. I reach for her face, holding her jaw in my palms. She latches her cold hands around my forearms—her delicate skin a stark contrast to my ink. But that’s part of Lark’s appeal—her soft curves wrapped around my hard edges. She’s nothing like most of the women I’ve come into contact with on the road, and it’s refreshing. While I’m colorful and expressive–mostly through my body art and music, she’s introverted. A quiet soul with the power to convince me what we’re doing isn’t wrong. Even if she has no idea why it ever would be in the first place.

  “Thank you,” she whispers.

  “I told you, you don’t have to thank me for making you feel good.”

  She shrugs her shoulders, as shy Lark reemerges. “This time I want to thank you—so you know I’m not just taking from you. Even though you told me to.”

  Her words hold more power than she realizes, especially since she’s basically saying this is more than a casual fling for her—that she likes what we have going and appreciates what I’m giving her. As much as I wasn’t expecting it, or even waiting for it, this is the first time she’s meant more to me, too. For this reason alone, I want to tell her to stay a little longer. But I can’t. “Have dinner with me tonight.”

  It’s not a question, but rather another demand. Still, she doesn’t argue. Her voice is soft and angelic when she says, “Okay,” before standing on the tips of her toes to kiss me. I expect a slow, sensual blending of our tongues, but she gives me a simple peck that feels just as good. Before I can go after more, she’s already gone. The unwelcomed absence suddenly making me realize just how close I’ve let her get to me.