Rock the Boat (15 page)

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 when 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.