14. The Place Between Dreaming and Awake
The Place Between Dreaming and Awake
S tretching his hand across the sheet, James found the bed cold and bolted upright.
“You’re awake.”
His heart hammered, then immediately calmed as his eyes found her. She was washed and wearing one of his black dress shirts. Her hair was twisted into a sexy little bun on top of her head.
“You had a bath?”
“Gideon—I mean, Gentleman Starr—came by to ask if we needed anything. I hope you don’t mind. I asked for the bath and for them to send up supper.”
“Supper?” He looked at the port window, shocked that it was nearly dusk. How had he slept through all of that?
“There’s a hot kettle by the fire and fresh water in the tub for you. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to eat first.”
He glanced at the tub. Tendrils of steam rose into the air. He thought of all the years he’d plunged into frigid water at the orphanage, stunned that she would do something so thoughtful as to keep the water for his bath warm.
“Thank you.”
She smiled and stumbled over a bashful, “Y-you’re welcome.” Blushing, she averted her gaze and wrung her folded hands. “So, which will it be, food or a bath first?”
At the moment, he wanted to devour her, but he wasn’t sure he could eat with this lump trapped in his throat. “Bath, I think.”
“Perfect.” She set a folded towel over the ledge of the tub and sat on a short stool. “Come on then.”
He had the strangest sensation he was being set up. Scanning the room, he looked for signs of trouble. Not only were there no signals of danger, it looked as though she’d been busy. His quarters were spotless.
“Did you tidy up?”
“A little. I was bored.” And now she was being shy.
Climbing out of the bed, he stretched and stilled when her eyes widened. She quickly looked down as her blush darkened.
“No point in modesty, now, darling. I’ve been inside of you every possible way a man can.”
She kept her gaze averted, but he spotted the twitch of a smile. As he stepped into the tub, he caught her taking a peek at him.
“Look your fill. I have no shame.”
Her breath hitched, and he chuckled, sliding into the water and removing his body from view. He liked having her eyes on him more than he should.
“What do you see when you look at me?”
Her gaze jumped to his. “Authority. Strength. Power.”
“Scars?”
Her head tilted. “Yes. But also beauty.”
That was enough of that. He eased back and closed his eyes.
“Is the water warm enough?”
The heat was divine. “Yes.”
“Good.” She reached over his shoulder, and he caught her wrist faster than a croc snaps up its prey. She held a washcloth in her hand. “I was only going to wet the cloth.”
“Why?”
“So I could wash your back.”
No one had ever bathed him that he could remember. He was a grown man. He could wash himself. But still, he released her to see if she actually would.
As she dragged that cloth over his chest, he discovered new levels of pleasure. Never before had bathing been more than a necessity. She transformed it into something luxurious and sinful. Shutting his eyes, he leaned back and rested his arms on the ledge, allowing her to carry on.
“Are you sore?”
Her hand stilled, and he took that as confirmation. “I was. Soaking in the bath helped.”
“I shouldn’t have been so rough with you—at least not for your first time.”
“I didn’t mind.”
He glanced back at her. “You don’t have to say that.”
“But I’m fine. There’s just a satisfying ache where you’ve been. It’s nothing I can’t live with.”
He lifted a brow. “ Satisfying ?”
She blushed again. “Yes, very.”
His cock hardened under the water. “The ache will ease in time.”
“Not if you have me again before it fades.”
Was she truly offering herself? Or was this another game?
She bit her lip in that sexy way she often did. “What are you thinking?”
Her shoulder lifted in a delicate shrug. “That you were right—about all of it.”
“What do you mean?”
He watched her struggle to put her feelings into words. He suspected she knew what she wanted to say, but some part of her still feared the sky would fall if she said it out loud. Her gaze lowered, and she licked her lips. “The more I surrendered control, the freer I became.”
She was either telling the truth, or he was a damn fool because he felt her sincerity in his gut. She was being honest. She liked his depraved darkness.
“You’re a dangerous woman, Wendy Moira Angela Darling.”
Looking through her lashes, she gave him a half grin. “Maybe I’m a pirate at heart.”
She’d certainly stolen more than he’d willingly given. “Perhaps you are. But such a charming name would never work on a pirate. We’ll have to think up something a little more threatening.”
Her grin stretched. “Like what? Red-Handed Wendy?”
He thought of how she’d stolen his knife. “We’ll call you Red-Handed Jill.”
Her smile faltered. “Why Jill?”
“Why not?”
She shook her head, and her frown deepened. “Tell me why you chose me.”
“I chose you because I wanted you.”
Again, she shook her head. “I know you’re purposely not telling me something. This wasn’t about me. Not initially. This was something else. Something personal. Was there a Jill?”
“No, there was no Jill.”
“Then why would you call me Red-Handed Jill?”
He tsked. “My enemies call me Black Jack. When I was a child, my mother used to sing a nursery rhyme about Jack and Jill.” Why was he telling her this? He only had a handful of good memories of his mother, and they were his. “I was trying to be clever. It was a stupid thought.”
“No, it’s not stupid. I know that nursery rhyme.”
“You do?”
“Yes. Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water. Jack fell down and broke his crown ? —”
“And Jill came tumbling after.” He smiled at the strange nostalgia a few short words could create. “Fitting, as I suppose I was your downfall.”
“What if you were my savior?”
He looked away. “I’m no one’s savior.”
“Did you take me because you wanted to hurt Peter? Did he do something to you?”
“It’s safest to leave our secrets in the shadows, darling.” He craved telling her the whole truth, but feared her loyalties might lie with his brother. “Why would you think my taking you has to do with Peter?”
“It felt like revenge.”
Something cold settled in the pit of his stomach. “All of it?”
“No. In the end, it was only about us. But in the beginning, it was clear you wanted to send a message.”
“What if it was revenge?”
“It might have started that way, but I think you’ve changed your mind.”
“How so?”
She shrugged. “I can’t explain it. I just have this feeling that you would think it rude to use me that way.”
He chuckled at her logic. “I used you all night.”
“For yourself.”
She was right. Initially, he’d wanted to use her to send a message. Now, he didn’t even want to share the thought of her with Peter or any other man. She was his and his alone. “I’m glad he never had you.”
“If you tell him what we did, he won’t care. I was being honest when I told you I’m nothing to him.”
“I believe you.”
“You do?”
“Yes. But it will still matter to him.”
“He’s engaged to someone else.”
“Nevertheless, he wanted you, and I got to you first.”
“So I guess you won whatever game you’re playing.”
It didn’t feel like winning.
The silence stretched between them.
“What’s going to happen to me?”
He turned to fully face her. “What do you want to happen?” This was uncharted territory.
“I can’t go back to who I used to be.”
He didn’t want her to go back. Period. “Life isn’t easy at sea.” She was cut out for better. They both knew it, and they needed to accept that their association had an end date. “It’s draining and rough on even the hardest men.”
“Do you ever go home?”
“I don’t have a home. For two decades, the sea has been all I’ve known. I trust how absolutely unpredictable she can be, and therefore, I’m never disappointed.”
“But you’re more than twenty years old. Where did you live before then?”
Was he honestly allowing her to question him? “A place worse than hell.”
“Saint Mercy’s Home for Orphaned Boys?”
He stilled. “Where did you hear that?”
“The Lost Boys talked about the orphanage where they met Peter. Were you there too?”
He looked away, preferring not to see those memories right now. They were all lost boys, some a little more lost than others.
“Please tell me. I just want to understand you. I’d never betray your confidence.”
Like a tower of bricks, he shuddered before his boundaries came tumbling down. “Peter was my brother.”
Her eyes widened. “Because you were both in the same orphanage?”
“No, because we both shared the same mom. He’s my blood.”
“But your last name’s Hook.”
“Right. So was his at one time, before the Pangbournes adopted him.” James kept his stare on the water, his memories flashing back to that horrible time. “Once we were separated, it took me a lifetime to find him. I didn’t know his new name or where he moved.”
“But you did find him.”
“Yes. And when I finally crossed his path again, he looked right through me as if I truly were a ghost from his past.”
“I’m sorry.” She rested her hand on his.
He glanced at the hooks on the wall where she’d hung the coats side by side. “Then he stole from me.”
She followed his stare. “So you kidnapped me in revenge.”
“Well, you were wearing my coat.”
Her shoulders lowered. “That’s all I am then, revenge?”
He caught her hand when she tried to pull away.
“No. Turns out you’re something I didn’t know could exist. But eventually, my plan will play out, and he’ll try to steal you back.
Regardless of my feelings, I’ll revel in his envy when he learns what I’ve done to you because I’m that broken inside.
And you’ll likely go back to the place you came from, and over time, this will be nothing more than a story you tell about a vicious pirate and a boy who forgets. ”
“That’s not how I’ll tell it.”
“No?”
She shook her head. “There was more than revenge between us, James. I felt it. I know you did, too.”