Chapter Nine
Cassian
“Where are you taking me?” Cassian asked as they neared one of the first-class elevators.
His heart was pitter-pattering excitedly as his mind worked to figure out James’s surprise. Despite the three or so fingers of brandy he’d had in the Smoking Room, he still thought that he could manage it.
“You’ll see,” James replied in a singsong tone.
Cassian let out a fast breath, close to a scoff. James’s smug smile was a little infuriating, though mostly because it was cute. Cassian wished that he could pinch the man’s cheeks some more. Maybe later.
When they reached the elevator, James requested that they be taken to E-Deck.
“E-Deck?” Cassian asked.
“Actually, we’ll be taking the stairs from there. Down to F-Deck.”
F-Deck. What was on F-Deck? Cassian pursed his lips, his brows furrowing. Nothing interesting, besides the squash court, perhaps, and the—
Cassian’s eyes flew wide. He leaned over to whisper to James.
“Are we visiting the swimming bath?”
His voice came out a little louder than intended, and the man running the elevator cocked an eyebrow at them. James reeled back in what was obviously fake offense.
“Cassian, the swimming bath is closed,” James chided. “You know that.”
As soon as the elevator steward’s back was turned, James threw Cassian a vaguely threatening look (though he still looked plenty sweet while making such a supposedly menacing face).
Cassian clamped his mouth shut to keep himself from laughing and inadvertently let out a snort.
Immediately, the elevator man looked back at him.
In his slightly inebriated state of mind, Cassian pretended to sniffle.
“I have a sensitivity to . . . oak.”
“Aren’t these panels pine?” James said mischievously, though he likely had no idea what kind of wood the panels were made of.
“And pine,” Cassian said. “All kinds of wood, really. Freshly lacquered ones.”
“Interesting.” James hummed. “Don’t you have one of those large, B-Deck staterooms? What a nightmare that must be for someone with your condition. How ever do you sleep?”
Bleary-eyed, Cassian leveled a look of his own. “Poorly.”
James pressed his lips together, very clearly trying not to laugh now, too.
Shaking his head, Cassian rolled his eyes as the elevator came to a stop, and then the two exited together.
Descending the stairs afterward, James began to chuckle.
Cassian fought back the immature urge to reach out and shove him as they made it to the bottom.
“Aren’t you worried about your employment?” Cassian asked instead.
“Only a little.” James shrugged. “Even if we’re caught, though, I thought maybe I’d say that you paid for some private pool time.”
“Hmm . . .” Cassian narrowed his eyes as he thought it over. It was a believable enough excuse, he supposed. “How did you even procure the key to the swimming area? I’d have thought that the White Star Line kept a close watch on that sort of thing.”
James flashed an innocent smile. “I convinced the man at the Purser’s Office to let me have it for a couple of hours. In exchange for sneaking him some French ice cream tomorrow.”
Oh, James was so brilliant. His service—official through the White Star Line or not—was second to none.
“Clever man,” Cassian commended with a nod.
James scowled and scoffed. “Finally.”
Cassian froze mid-step, taken aback by James’s self-deprecating remark.
James must have been referring to his missed opportunity for cleverness earlier when he’d brought them to the potato storage room.
And Cassian hated it. He couldn’t allow James to speak about himself in such a harsh and hurtful way.
“Don’t be like that,” Cassian said as James began to unlock the door to the swimming bath.
“Don’t be like what?”
“Don’t be so critical of yourself.”
Cassian hoped that James might apologize for speaking about himself in such a negative manner, but instead, the man only pulled the door open and continued inside. Irritation flooded Cassian’s veins as he followed.
After James flicked on the lights, Cassian caught the man’s sleeve, forcing him to come to a stop.
“I’m not an easy man to please, nor am I an easy man to impress. And you, James Thomas Morrow, have accomplished both of those things in our short time together. Remember that.”
James’s cheeks became pink, but he still didn’t reply.
Cassian thought that perhaps he should prompt him.
“Don’t be so critical of yourself, James.” He crooked an eyebrow. “Do you understand?”
After a brief pause, James nodded a little, and Cassian could have sworn that he saw the faintest hint of a smile pulling at the man’s lips.
Warmth swirled in Cassian’s chest—an intense rush of fondness and care.
He released his hold of James’s sleeve but then had to ball his hands into fists to keep himself from reaching out and stroking James’s face in the same manner that he had earlier.
Something about James Thomas Morrow made Cassian want to care for him, to caress him and hold him and make him see how extraordinary he was.
Especially now, especially since James had been so wonderful and so clever, thinking of the perfect surprise like this.
James ought to have been rewarded for his service somehow.
Normally, if Cassian thought that an employee of his ought to be commended for their service, he would have simply paid the person extra for it.
But something inside him—some inkling deep in Cassian’s soul—whispered that, for once, money alone could never satisfy this sudden need he had to thank James for his service, no matter how much of it he might offer.
Cassian forced himself to ignore it.
He and James continued to look at each other for a while in silence, the only sound the water sloshing back and forth in the pool. Soon, James rocked back on his heels.
“So, maybe we should swim?” he suggested.
“Did you find some bathing suits for us to wear?” Cassian asked.
“Unfortunately, no.” James paused and rolled his perfectly plump bottom lip between his teeth. “But maybe we could swim in our pants?”
Cassian’s eyebrows shot up. “You want us to swim in our pants?”
“Or, uhm, whatever you call them in the States. Drawers?”
“Ah.”
“I mean, I think my pants are similar, length-wise, to the bathing suit you wore last time. I know it’s not very . . . I mean, I know it’s not exactly fitting for a respectable man like yourself, but . . . well . . .”
Cassian laughed lightly. Good thing he was still a little intoxicated.
“Yes, James, that sounds fine. I’ll change before bed later anyway. Using a couple of pieces of clothing as swimwear won’t impact me negatively in the least.”
“Oh. Good. Great.” James paused and raked a hand through his hair. “I’ll see you in a few minutes, then.”
He walked off and headed for the changing stalls.
Over the next five or so minutes, both of them removed most of their clothing in their separate stalls. Cassian emerged from his first, feeling strangely naked in his coat-cut undershirt and knee-length “pants” (as James had called them).
Surprisingly, though, the vulnerability of it excited him rather than making him feel unsettled, and the longer that he stood there lingering by the pool, the faster his heart began to race.
When he and James were last at the swimming bath together, Cassian had really liked how James had looked at him in his bathing suit.
And now he couldn’t help but be eager to see how James might like him in these more intimate pieces of clothing, too.
Cassian had become lost in a bit of self-admiration—smoothing out the fabric of his shirt while imagining James’s reaction to seeing him in it—by the time James opened his stall.
When he did, Cassian looked over just as James emerged, and the moment that Cassian laid eyes on the steward, his heart about stopped.
Because James Thomas Morrow looked nothing short of stunning.
He was wearing more or less the exact the same thing that Cassian was, except that the fabric of James’s clothing had blue stripes, rather than being one solid color.
And even though neither the top nor the bottom piece was particularly formfitting, Cassian could still make out James’s physique in them.
And it was, as he’d expected, exquisite.
James’s face flushed as Cassian continued to stare, mesmerized.
James huffed a laugh. “I hope I remember my flopping techniques.”
It took Cassian an extra second to come back to himself so that he could respond.
“I’ll be here to help,” he promised.
After a pause, James started over to the stairs for the pool.
Cassian, on the other hand, walked over to the edge of the pool, at its head.
Sitting, he stretched out his legs to put his toes in the water.
Before he could push himself back up to stand, the ship’s movement caused a wave to splash him halfway up his outstretched calf.
While the water wasn’t as warm as it had been before, it still seemed like it would be pleasant enough for swimming.
Figuring that it might be beneficial for James if he wasn’t the first one in the water, Cassian jumped in.
When he emerged, he found James on the stairs, the water up to his waist. Cassian treaded water while he waited.
It took James two more minutes to even make it to his chest.
“I thought we were swimming together,” Cassian said, throwing him a slightly exasperated look that was only half-serious.
“We are. Hovering here on the stairs is my form of swimming.”
“Ah, I see.” Cassian swam over to him. As soon as he was within a couple of feet, a wicked idea popped into his head, and he grinned. “Let me show you my version, though.”