Rock the Boat (16 page)

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 this 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.

Would I have flirted with Lark under normal circumstances?
Absolutely
.

Would I have wanted her in my bed?
Definitely
.

Would I have taken her on a date and then made plans to see her again?
Never
.

Without The Perfect Match setup, we wouldn’t have gotten this close. Now because of Gina and her inability to let me live my life on my own, I’m royally fucked. All I can do is lean against my closet, staring at the backside of my stateroom door wondering what I’m going to do come Saturday. How am I going to let this woman walk away from me now that I know how good she feels in my arms?

Dom opens the adjoining door to our rooms, tossing a can of beer at me. He pokes his head around the corner, searching for signs of Lark. “Is she gone?”

Had he done it five minutes ago, he’d be getting an earful about knocking. But even Dom isn’t used to a girl being in my room on a regular basis. “Yeah, what’s up?”

He takes one last swig of his beer before crumbling the aluminum can in his hand and tossing it in the trash. “Nothing, haven’t seen you much this week.”

“Blame it on your girlfriend. Gina’s the one who set this whole plan in motion.”

Dom moves to the couch, flicking through the channels on my flat screen like he’s actually going to find something worth watching. “I’m so tired of shit TV. It’s like they want you to watch their lame-ass station all day.”

“I’m pretty sure they do, but why don’t you tell me why you’re really here. You have your own remote to toss around.”

He rests his head against the back of the whiskey stained couch that I’ll probably end up paying for before they let me off the ship. “It’s Gina, man. I’m not even going to lie, she sent me in here.”

“You’re a couple of stubborn fuckers. Are you fighting again?”

“I hate to say it, but I think you have us both beat in that department.”

“What’d I do?”

“As much as it pains me to say this, I agree with Gina this time.”

I drape my towel over my shoulder, wondering why he’s talking in code like a chick. “About?”

“You need to tell Lark about Shay. You’ve been spending a lot of time together. The longer you wait, the harder it’s going to be, and she’s going to be pissed if you keep it from her.”

Three sentences and my entire mood shifts, and not for the better. “I don’t owe Lark anything when it comes to Shay. It’s not about her, or what she needs right now.”

“But it is, East. Especially when you’re still hung up on someone else.”

“I’m not hung up, Dom. I loved the ever loving shit out of Shay. It’s my choice who I tell and when I do it. End of conversation. Not to mention, Lark has a hang up of her own that she’s told me a little bit about. I’m not the only one with a past.”

Dom stands up, holding his hands out in surrender. “I’m glad you’re talking instead of fucking, but she deserves to know. I’ll leave it at that.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but we’re definitely fucking. And Lark already asked about my tattoo.”

He raises a brow, seemingly surprised. “What’d you say?”

“Nothing yet. I guess she pieced it together after the show the other night.”

The obligatory look of pity passes between us, the one I’ve grown to hate more than the questions that go along with it. “Even if it’s only the bare minimum, tell her the truth.”

“When and
if
I decide to talk about Shay, I won’t hold back. Shay deserves more than that. But right now, I’m pretty sure all I need to do is find another drink.”

“Because when shit gets real and you finally start to feel something other than loss, you purposely fuck it up so you can stay in the past. But I have news for you, you can’t keep using Shay as an excuse. Holding onto a woman who would want you to keep living isn’t going to make life easier. Being happy is the only thing that can do that.”

“Jesus, you’ve been spending too much time with Gina.”

“Considering we’re all you have, someone has to get your head out of your ass. Think long and hard about what you’re setting Lark up for, she has no idea what she’s up against. I actually feel bad for her.”

“At least I know where your loyalties lie.”

“That’s not what I meant. Gina did this for you as a gift, and I encouraged her because if I have to see her cry over your drama one more day, I’ll kick your ass myself.”

“It is what it is, Dom. I don’t need the favor.”

“If you didn’t need the favor, we’d have gotten off this damn ship six months ago. Take a look around, East! Is this the life you want for the next fifty years?”

I get what he’s saying, but it doesn’t make it any easier to hear. Not when I’ve lived in denial for so long. Long enough to forget what life used to be like. The excitement; the never-ending rush of adrenaline that kept me up most of the night every single time I performed; the way I bled music instead of pain. But no matter how much I miss those things, in the grand scheme of things, it really doesn’t change a thing. “You forget I have enough money in my bank account to live comfortably for the rest of my life. I can give this all up tomorrow and go on without it.”

Dom tilts his head back, exhaling as he grabs fistfuls of his shoulder length hair. “You’re a hopeless fucker, you know that?”

“I’ve been called worse.”

Dom shakes his head like I’m a lost cause and walks back toward his room, but just as I think this little intervention is finally over, he turns around again. I brace for impact because the look on his face is anything but pleasant. “Not that you care about my opinion, but Lark’s exactly what you need to get your head on straight—and hopefully back on dry land. If you fuck it up, it’s on you this time. Gina’s done trying. I’m done trying, Easton. Make a decision, but make sure it’s one you can live with.”

I’ve never liked being told what to do. It’s probably the reason why I ended up with a career where I call the shots. It’s not that I can’t take direction, it’s just that I have a set plan. Only my plan went to shit before I came up with a backup. “I can take care of myself, Dom. You’re not exactly a shining example of how to get over someone.”

He braces his arms on the door frame, his eyes full of rage. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you fucked up and never told Gina.”

“Told me what?” Gina asks from the doorway, as she wraps her arms around Dom’s waist from behind.

My eyes widen and I wonder how much of this conversation she’s heard. As much as I don’t agree with what Dom did, I would never intentionally out him. His eyes lock with mine, both challenging and begging me to say something to Gina. As much as I want him to tell her the truth, it’s not my story to tell. He’s the one who has to lie down beside her every night with a guilty conscience. “Nothing, I’ll be in the shower.”

Dom turns around and walks back into his room. Gina glances at me, but I don’t hang around long enough to answer any of her questions. I never agreed with his choices, but I’m not about to get in the middle of it either. Then again the thud against the door is my first clue shit’s already going down.

Fuck.
Me.