Rock the Boat: A Griffin Bay Novel (8 page)

Davis’s condescending chuckle annoyed her, and somehow the annoyance only seemed to stoke the heat of her attraction.

“But,” she said a little defensively, “your manager didn’t send you to me so you could party.”

“I know,” he said drily. “You’ve already reminded me of that fact,
several times
.”

She rolled her eyes—more at the throbbing sensation between her legs than at Davis’s words. “There’s having fun, and then there’s chilling out—slowing down—spending a little time with your own thoughts, figuring yourself out.”

Somehow she’d said the wrong thing. Davis drew back almost as if Jordan had struck at him, and for the briefest moment a look of hurt flickered across his features. Then it was gone again, replaced by a mask of unshakable, arrogant aloofness like he’d never worn before.

“What do
you
know about chilling out, Jordan?”

She gaped at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You are the least-relaxed person I’ve ever met in my life. And I include Tyler in that assessment.”

“That’s not true!” Her face burned with fury, even while her longing to touch him, to taste his warm-scented skin, leaped up like a blaze inside her.

“Oh, it absolutely
is
true. How old are you? Twenty-five?”

“Twenty-four, not that it’s any of your business.”

“How many people your age run a business? Especially one like this, catering to really demanding clients?”

“You don’t know anything about my clients.”

“I
am
your client. Yeah, I know Tyler paid for this little escapade, but I’m the one who’s here on your boat, not him. I know what rich assholes are like. I know it takes some incredible self-control to deal with people like me.”

“So you admit you’re an asshole.”

Davis ignored the jab. “Nobody rises to your level of success—and at such a young age—unless she’s a total stick in the mud.”

“I am not!”

“A total killjoy,” he went on mercilessly, curving his damnable half-smile.

Jordan wrestled down the urge to bite the smile right off his lips.

“You never let your guard down, do you?” He leaned a little closer. The rough shag of his unshaven face was so close now she could practically feel it already, scratching against the soft, sensitive skin of her neck. “You don’t even know how to cut loose and have a good time, Captain. I’d bet money that you’ve never taken a real risk in your life—never done a single spontaneous, selfish thing.”

She swallowed and croaked, “Selfish?”

“Something just for you,” he purred. “Something you want—not because it’s smart or sensible or a good business move. Just because you
want it
.”

“Yes I have,” she said, breathless.

“Oh yeah?” Davis held her stare, taunting, daring. “Prove it.”

“Fine,” Jordan said.

And with one abrupt, spontaneous movement, she closed the small space between them and kissed him.

.9.

T
he moment Jordan’s lips met Davis’s, a voice shouted in her head,
What are you doing?!
She knew it was the height of stupidity, to kiss this infuriating man—now his cockiness would only increase, and he’d lord his sexiness over her all the harder. Now he’d make himself even more impossible to ignore… to resist.

But somehow it felt unbelievably
right
to kiss him, too. Nobody could accuse her now of lacking spontaneity—not Emily, not Davis. No one. She couldn’t even consider herself the same staid, predictable Jordan. The loss of that predictability frightened her, made her heart pound in her ears.

Or was it Davis’s kiss that filled her head with thunder? It had been so long since she’d kissed anybody—not since her last high-school boyfriend—and never in her life had Jordan been kissed
this
way. His mouth was soft and warm, yet insistent.
Taking
. The gentle slide of his lips against her own compelled her to open her mouth wider; the stroking of his tongue against her lower lip, then the roof of her mouth, forced the faintest of moans from her throat.

That sound seemed to be exactly what Davis was after. He pulled back, smirking, and Jordan felt helpless to break his gaze, caught by his self-congratulatory expression.

Screw you
, she told him silently.
Screw you and your big, rock star ego
.

But even as she blazed with fury at him for pushing her this far, for making her see how badly she wanted to give in… she craved more of that intense, probing, breath-stealing kiss. She leaned in to take more from his lips, but Davis held her back gently with a hand on her shoulder.

“Wait. Are you sure you want to do this?”

With her nose inches from his own, she lowered her brows, scowling at him.

“I mean,” he went on, “I kind of… teased you into it. That’s not really playing fair.”

Jordan sat back and tossed her ponytail with an impatient hand. “What do you mean, that’s not playing fair? You think you’re so hot I can’t resist you?”

It’s true
, she admitted to herself.
He
is
so hot I can’t resist him
. Better if Davis never heard her say those words.

“Listen,” she said, “I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. You don’t control me, Davis.”

His slow, crooked smile sent a throb of heat down between her legs. “We’ll see about that.”

His voice was so low, so rich and caressing, that Jordan found herself unable to speak. She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him into another kiss—long and melting, their tongues making a leisurely exploration of one another’s mouths. His hands found her wrists and held her; she released her grip on his clothes, but he didn’t release his grip on her. Somehow the light restraint made the moment all the hotter. Could Jordan, the perfectionist, the captain of her own ship, trust someone else to be in control? She wasn’t certain she could. And for the first time in her life, not knowing what would happen next didn’t upset her. It only made her eager to find out.

Davis broke from their kiss. Jordan panted, feeling the wetness of his mouth cooling on her lips.

“If you’re sure you want to do this,” he said softly, “let’s go below.”

Jordan’s shaky legs could barely carry her down the ladder. She followed Davis to the door of his cabin, the largest one on the boat. He swung the door open and she hesitated, biting her lip.

“It’s all right if you don’t want to,” he said. “Really, it’s—”

“I
do
want to.”

She wanted to kick off the shackles of her inhibitions as much as she’d ever wanted anything—as much as she’d wanted the
Coriolis
and the future she’d carved out for herself. Desperately, with a gnawing hunger, she longed to reach out and grab life’s treasures as they were laid before her—and not spend her whole life planning everything to the detail, worrying about what might happen if she failed to live up to her own dreams.

More than that, she wanted Davis—wanted to run her hands over his strong, hard body, wanted to feel his commanding embrace. She wanted to leave her past encounters with the boyfriends of her younger day behind—to know just how good sex could be now that she was a grown woman. Maybe his cocky attitude had just fooled her into believing it, but she had a definite feeling Davis was the kind of man who could show her exactly how good sex could be.

She brushed past him into the interior of the cabin. Walled and floored in polished teak, it glowed softly from the mist-filtered light that streamed in through the port hole. The berth with its bright-white bedspread and down-stuffed pillows was ample for boat accommodations, but still narrow for two people who were about to use it for something more than sleeping. Jordan backed up so Davis could enter the close quarters and shut the door. With her butt resting on the bed, she began to peel off her shirt—but Davis stopped her.

“Not yet,” he said.

There was a firm tone of command in his voice, a naturally confident belief that she would listen to him—
obey
him. The charisma that had made him a famous performer, capable of holding sway over huge crowds, made him just as fascinating in very close quarters—and made Jordan just as eager to please him, to gain his approval.

He’s like the rich, popular kids from school days
, she thought with a twist of feeling that was half admiration, half disgust.
Getting his way just because he says so, just because he’s gorgeous and sexy and…

He stepped close to her, pulling the hem of her shirt back down. He was so near now that she could feel his deep voice faintly resonating within her own chest, and she trembled with the need to touch him. “You may be the captain of the boat,” Davis said quietly, “but I’m in charge now.”

Jordan’s eyes widened. This was definitely nothing like her experience with her old high school boyfriend.

“I get to call the shots,” Davis continued. “Right?”

For a moment Jordan considered calling the whole thing off, storming out of the cabin and retreating to the helm where she knew she was in charge—where all the responsibility for her boat and crew rested on her shoulders, but where she also knew she could keep control of herself—of everything. But the memory of Davis’s kiss—the hot, quivering energy it sent coursing through her body—kept her rooted in place. Even if she didn’t know exactly where this all would lead, she knew she wanted
more
. More than just kissing—more than this game she and Davis had played almost from his first moments on the
Coriolis
—him tempting her with his mere presence, and Jordan pretending she didn’t notice his cool self-possession, the smooth, hard curves of his chest and arms, his intoxicating smell. She couldn’t suppress any longer the effect he had over her—the way his voice made her want to wiggle right out of her panties.

How dare he make me feel this way?
She stared at him, wordless, all power of speech stolen from her by the fire in her body, by her astonishment at the force of her own desire—and what she was truly willing to do to get what she wanted, now that she’d acted on her impulses.

Jordan swallowed down her inhibitions and her bubbling fury, holding Davis’s steady, commanding blue gaze.

And then she nodded.

The moment she gave her consent, Davis’s arms were around her. He crushed her in a tight grip against his body; she could feel the steady beating of his heart against her own chest, and its slowness only annoyed her all the more. He was deliberate, in control—in his element… while Jordan’s heart raced and her breath came short, her body shivering with the excitement of giving into an indulgence she hadn’t experienced in far too long.

He kissed her again, teasing her lips and tongue with such careful movements that her knees buckled and she moaned against his mouth. Davis eased her back until she sat on the edge of the berth. Unthinking, Jordan tried to peel off her shirt again, but he caught her wrists and pulled her hands away from her body—held them out so that she was fully under his control.

“Not until I say so,” he whispered.

“I just…” she could barely gasp out the words. “It’s just that… you don’t know how long it’s been.” Embarrassed by the admission, her face flamed so hot she was sure she’d catch the cabin on fire.

But Davis only chuckled softly, and not in a condescending way. “Really?”

He let go of her hands; Jordan rested them on the mattress beside her and didn’t attempt to undress again. “Yeah. So what?”

“Don’t get mad. I’m just surprised to hear it, that’s all. A woman as gorgeous as you…”

He drew closer and Jordan thought he would kiss her, but he turned his face at the last moment and instead raked the rough hair of his chin and cheek against her neck. Jordan could only let out a ragged gasp as electricity seemed to shoot from that contact, from the sliding scratch that was almost painful, down every nerve in her body at the same time.

“A woman as beautiful and sexy and ambitious as you ought to have men after her all the time.”

“Work,” she muttered. “It takes up so much…”

She trailed off with a sigh as Davis’s lips found that same place on her neck. A slower current of fire followed that first jolt of electricity, burning away Jordan’s words. She reached for his body, slid her hands up beneath his plain white t-shirt, and fought back a whimper as she traced the contours of his body—the hard, flat planes of well-toned muscle, the smoothness and warmth of his skin, the small patch of soft hair on his chest.

Davis stood back and removed his shirt with one clean motion. Jordan’s eyes widened, taking in his bare skin—bare but for a few intricate tattoos on his chest.
God, he’s hot
. The balance and strength of his body seemed almost unfair—how could a man be so gorgeous with his clothes on or off?

Suddenly Jordan felt a chill of misgiving. Sure, she was in pretty good shape from her many years of working lines and keeping her balance on the decks of moving boats. But Davis Steen had been all over the world, performed on some of the most prestigious stages—and no doubt had plenty of experience with some of the most stunning women on the planet. There was no way some island-bound girl from Griffin Bay could measure up to even his most casual, offhanded encounter with the tartiest of groupies.

“Now you,” he said, his dark voice compelling.

Jordan shook her head. “No. No way.”

Davis gave her a confused half-smile. “I thought you wanted to.”

“I did… I
do
. But…”

“Well, you agreed I’d call the shots. Didn’t you?”

“Okay,” Jordan whispered. Slowly, hesitating, she removed her shirt and cast it aside. Sitting there in just her jeans and the most basic, boring, nude-colored bra, she looked up at Davis shyly, expecting that arrogant, judgmental grin or maybe even outright laughter.

Instead, she found him staring at her body with unmasked hunger.

“Shit,” he muttered. “You are
hot
.”

Jordan blushed. “I’m sure you say that to all the girls you seduce in the cabins of their own boats.”

He huffed a hoarse little laugh, but then he reached out slowly and caressed her bare shoulder. His fingertips slid down her arm to her elbow, raising a thrill of anticipation along her skin. Then his touch, faintly rough with the calluses from his guitar strings, tracked up the inside of her arm. The skin there was more sensitive—so sensitive it almost tickled. Jordan shivered and gasped.

His hand found the swell of her breast. He covered it with his whole hand, and moment by moment his grip firmed until he squeezed her. It was nearly painful, but with an ache Jordan relished. Her nipple pressed hard against his palm; she arched her back, pushing into his grip, savoring the delicious pressure.

His hand moved away abruptly, and Jordan bit her lip, struggling to play by his rules—to let him call the shots, even though she wanted to plead with him to touch her that way some more, to do it all again. But a moment later he leaned her back onto the bed and his mouth descended on her breast.

The thin fabric of her bra intensified every sensation as Davis circled her with his tongue, then flicked it lightly over the hardened bud of her nipple—then grazed it with his teeth. Jordan arched her back and cried out, unable to keep any part of herself under control. Panting and gasping, she gripped his broad shoulders, digging in her nails when he moved to the other side and repeated the same tormentingly slow movements—circle, flick, bite.

“What do you want?” he asked, pulling away, his voice roughened by desire. “Do you want more of this?”

Jordan nodded wordlessly.

“I’m not going to give you more,” he said, and she bit her lip, wrestling with her need, with the frustration of his denial. “Not until you beg me.”

Absolutely not
, Jordan told herself.
I do not beg—for anything
. Not even for pleasure so intense it stripped away all her senses but touch, making her unconscious of everything but the feel of Davis’s mouth and tongue and teeth turning her body to liquid fire.