Docked (11 page)

Torn, I glance back at the water, but decide to be polite and accept his offer. “Okay, sure.”

He turns and leads the way, and we begin a lazy trek along the shoreline, farther and farther from the cabanas. “So, what are your plans for the night?” he asks, adjusting his shades. “I’d love to take you to dinner. I hear Felina’s Bistro on Deck 8 Aft is great. I haven’t tried it yet, have you?”

“No, I haven’t. Actually, I have a dinner meeting there tonight.”

“Oh, do you?”

“Yeah, so I might have to take a rain check, but I’d love to go with you before the cruise is over.”

“No worries, we can set something up. You’ll have to tell me what room you’re staying in so I can swing by.”

“I’m in 3041. Maybe tomorrow night? I’ll have to check with Lana and see if she has anything planned for us.”

“Oh, that’s right—I forgot you two are reviewing the ship. What magazine do you write for again?” He swings his hands around his back and clasps them together, strolling casually as he gives me his full attention. I instantly slip back into the familiar ease of his presence, recalling how simple it was to chat with him the first night we met. He’s easy going and I don’t sense a false bone in his body—a good combination in any girl’s book.

“Four Corners Elite.”

“Ah, okay. The travel magazine. Very cool.” He gestures to the water, jerking his chin to the left. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your swim. Come on, I’ll take a dip with you.” He stops and his hand drops and casually finds mine. I glance at the connection, locking my fingers with his. I was hoping to swim alone, but maybe this is better. It might help to have someone by my side in case I start freaking out.

“You coming?” he asks, turning back. I’ve stopped cold, the water just above my ankles.

“Yeah, sorry,” I laugh lightly, kick-starting my feet. I focus on the calm surface and inhale deeply through my nose, then out my mouth. I silently give thanks for my sunglasses, knowing the panic is surely starting to visibly flare.

“Oh, shit. Careful.” Jonah stops me and swivels on his hip, bending to lift me up. “Stingray.”

“Oh! Where?”

“On your left.” He slides one arm beneath my knees and cradles me against his chest, turning so I can get a better look.

“So pretty.” I admire its wings rippling above the sandy bottom.

“Pretty?”

“Yeah, don’t you think?”

“Nah, they creep me out,” he chuckles, shuffling in the other direction. He starts to wade deeper, and my muscles lock up. My body turns rigid in his arms, my fingers digging into his neck. “You okay?” He stills and lifts his shades to study me, our breaths mixing, lips close. The scent of fresh lemon hits me, and he licks his lips.

“Yup, I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

I nod.

He goes to drop his shades back down over the bridge of his nose but hesitates, honing in on my lips. “Damn.”

“What?”

“I really wanna kiss you right now.”

“Oh.” I wiggle in his grip and he carefully lifts my sunglasses, sliding them up over my head. Our eyes meet and I’m at a loss for words. There’s something so genuine in them, it jars me for a moment, but I quickly write it off, aware that just like half of the men partying it up on this cruise, he’s just looking to take me back to his cabin. He mistakes my silence for a green light and moves in, his moist lips barely brushing mine. “Jonah, I better get back,” I whisper, watching the disappointment wash his face. He doesn’t set me down, though, just quietly nods and slowly turns to begin walking back to the shore. “My friends are waiting for me back at one of the cabanas.”

“Are these friends female?”

“Yes,” I laugh, grinning sympathetically. “Lana and Brie. You haven’t met Brie.” A loud shout barrels toward us as we make it closer to the shore, someone calling out from the direction of the cabanas.

“Hey, isn’t that your friend Lana?” Jonah squints toward the huts and I follow his gaze, dropping my shades to kill the sun’s glare. It’s still a little too far off for me to get a good glimpse.

“Um…I think so.”

Jonah picks up the pace and begins a jog toward the cabanas. Lana’s frantic face comes into view. She’s waving wildly to call me toward her, and Brie is standing next to her, looking a bit confused. Jonah carries me the whole way, finally stopping to set me down when we reach the bottom of the porch steps. Lana’s hanging over the railing, eyes wide while she silently mouths something to me, but I can’t make it out. I rush up the stairs, Jonah on my heels, and halt to a stop when I reach the top.

Tanner’s sitting in one of the lounge chairs, but he’s not lounging. He looks far from relaxed. He’s leaning forward, forearms on his knees, shades covering his beautiful blue eyes. His blonde hair is disheveled—just as I left it this morning—and he’s donned in his signature grey suit and silk baby blue tie.

“Hey,” I greet him, gaze bouncing between his stoic expression and my girlfriends’ uncomfortable ones. “Is everything okay?”

Lana’s eyes flit to Jonah and then back to Tanner. She clears her throat. “Mr. Christensen just dropped by to speak to you about the interview.”

“The interview? I thought we had a meeting tonight.”

Tanner rises and stretches his shoulders. “Yes, Miss Banks. It turns out I have the afternoon free, so I figured I’d stop by to see if you wouldn’t mind doing the interview now instead.”

Lana taps Brie’s shoulder and points behind Tanner to the sliding glass door. “We’re just gonna run inside and grab some…”

“Bread!” Brie pipes up and takes her hand, and they hurry for the door.

“Jonah, you’re welcome to join us,” Lana calls over her shoulder.

“Oh, that’s okay,” Jonah waves to thank her, and his eyes float between Tanner and me. “I have to get back to my mates. See you soon, Anya? Room 3041, right?”

“Yup, you got it.” I turn and smile softly at him. I can feel Tanner’s eyes burn holes into me through his shades, and I’m not sure why. If this is about the damn sticky notes again, so help me, God. “I’ll talk to you later. Tell Carlos I said hi?”

“Will do.” Jonah quickly bows out, turning for the porch steps. He jogs across the white sand and then he’s gone, leaving me with a very grumpy Mr. Blue Eyes.

“So…you want to do the interview now?” I ask, stepping under the umbrella. “Why the change in plans?”

“The interview can wait.” He takes my hand and leads me back inside the cabana, his stride quick and determined. “I want to steal you away for a few hours. Get your bag.”

“Get my bag?” I stumble through the sliding door and he hands it to me, quickly lifting it from the counter. He doesn’t let go, just pulls me right along. I’m still in nothing but my wet bikini and sand is rubbing in all the wrong places, but it looks like I won’t be changing. We sail past Lana and Brie toward the front door.

“Sorry for the intrusion, ladies,” he says gruffly as we pass by. The door swings open and I send a floppy wave to Lana and Brie over my shoulder.

“I’ll text you, Lan!”

“Behave, kids!” she shouts after us. The humidity swamps us again the second we step back outside, and Tanner finally stops in front of the hut’s little dirt path. A sharp, white Corvette awaits us, windows rolled down. Tanner opens the passenger door and gestures for me to get in. I don’t bother asking, because this man’s on a mission. I just slide onto the black leather seat, buckle up, and hang on.

SIX

My hair blows wildly as Tanner flies down the road, The Neighbourhood’s “Sweater Weather” blaring loudly through the speakers. The road curves and we wind around, little glimpses of the water flashing in between the thickets of palm trees that line the shoulders. We cruise farther and farther from any signs of tourist activity, leaving the cabanas and guest beach in the dust. A few minutes pass and we speed around another corner, peeling onto a long, dirt driveway that leads deep into the tropical brush.

A small turquoise house comes into view, its shutters weathered, the paint peeled along the slats.

“What are we doing here?” I finally ask as Tanner brings the car to a stop.

He reaches over and turns the radio off, then flicks the ignition. The windows are still open, and the purr of the smooth machine we’re sitting in dies. “You’re here to learn some more Tanner Christensen 101,” he says matter-of-factly, yanking me over the console and onto his lap. A surprised yelp sends the wind rushing from my lungs. When I collide with him, he finally tears his shades away and tosses them on the passenger seat.

I grip his shoulders, my eyes wide.

“Let me clarify something for you, Miss Banks,” he demands, gathering my disheveled, windswept hair in his hands and holding it at the nape of my neck. “I was under the assumption that when we made our agreement, the exclusivity we discussed went both ways.”

I blink. “Well, you assumed right. I wasn’t doing anything with—”

“I don’t want to hear his name,” he snaps, clutching the back of my head, “I don’t want to know anything about him. I already got an eyeful of his hands on you, and it told me everything I need to know. He’s a boy, not a man, and he won’t be able to take care of you.” His mouth hits my throat, hot and wet. He murmurs against my skin, voice raw and rough, an unhinged edge to his tone. “Right now, you’re going to ride me hard. One, because it’s been a hell of a morning and I need it, and two because you need it and you don’t know it yet.” His fingers make quick work of my bikini top, ripping at the flimsy strings. He flings it aside and then tears my bottoms off, swinging my legs around like a pro. He kisses me, his mouth harsh, tongue demanding. I taste the sea salt from my skin on his lips.

His hands are firm and controlled, roaming everywhere. Sand grinds at my skin with each touch. He’s sucking the breath from me and I’m so shocked, I can’t even process the deprivation. I can only sink into him, quench his thirst and satisfy his hunger. I push at his suit jacket, frantically peeling it down his shoulders. He groans in approval and cups my breasts, squeezing and trailing his thumbs along the undersides.

“Tanner,” I whimper, “I love the way you touch me.”

“Bite,” he demands huskily, placing the pad of his thumb on my bottom lip. I obey and press my teeth down, moaning as he pushes his hips up to deliver the most delicious pressure. His thumb leaves my mouth and trails across my jaw bone, landing just below my ear. He rubs gently, the moist pad working delicate strokes into the skin. “You like this spot, baby?”

I lean into his touch, and my eyes drift shut in pure pleasure. “Yes.”

He keeps rubbing the space just below my ear while he leans up to nip my lips, working me into a blissful haze. The last few minutes are a blur. In a matter of seconds of being on this man’s lap, I’ve almost forgotten my morning with Lana and Brie, and my walk on the beach with Jonah. All my body registers is Tanner’s raging need and my desire to give him what he’s desperate for.

His head drops back against the headrest and he lifts his hips to work at his fly. My fingers fumble with the top of his dress shirt buttons. I only manage to undo the first three, but it’s enough to give him some breathing room and to turn me on to high fucking heaven. The sound of a zipper’s pull resonates. My fingers glide over his neck and shoulders, sweeping across the thin sheen of sweat that’s building there. He frees himself and shifts me into position, eyes flicking up to lock with mine. “Lean back and take me deep. It’ll give you the most pleasure, baby.”

A collective moan pours from our lips as he sinks me down onto him, and I obey his command, tilting back until I feel the steering wheel behind me. It’s jamming into my back, but I don’t care. I’m focused on the mouthwatering male sprawled out before me, a sliver of chest exposed, his short, ruffled blond hair begging to be tugged. His touches aren’t nearly as gentle as last night, but seeing this side of Tanner—feeling this side of him—sends my need soaring.

His hands land on my waist and he pumps me up and down. His intense gaze watches my face as he rocks my hips, tilting and bouncing me to ensure he’s hitting just the right spot. Even in rough mode, he’s putting me first, tuning his body to mine to elicit the finest shots of pleasure. His arms rise and he rests them behind his head, gaze crawling greedily up and down my body. “Tell me where you want my hands, Anya. Or they stay right here.”

“Here,” I pant, reaching out to bring one of his arms back down. I guide it toward me and a luscious, lazy smile rolls over his lips. I press his hands against my breasts, smashing them against my skin. He responds with fervor, kneading and gripping as I have my way with him, losing myself in his heady gaze. My knees stick to the leather. Sweat never felt so good.

“Harder, Anya. Harder, baby.” His eyes burn, his fingers digging into my breasts, nails scraping with the sand. He drops one hand to guide my waist again, adjusting the intensity and rhythm, and I begin to fall apart, my inner walls clenching and releasing around his hardness. My head rolls forward, my forehead pressing into his, pushing him down harder and harder into the leather seat as I take him. A cry bubbles from my lips and I break, my release tearing through me like a vengeful savage. “That’s it, that’s my girl.”

Tanner matches my shouts, tops my curses, smothers my moans. We’re all broken breath and tongue and teeth and nails, ripping at each other until there’s nothing left but our shattered heaps of flesh. His name is repeatedly on my lips as I come, and nothing seems to please him more. He bites my shoulder as I drift down, smiling in pure, elated satisfaction. We both implode against one another, our bodies collapsing, skin rubbing skin, breath meeting breath.