Chapter 20
twenty
CARINA
I thought I would chicken out. So, I waited. Knowing eventually he would get impatient and come looking for me, or he would yell for me to get my ass up so we could leave. Maybe even threaten to leave me behind.
I want him to look for me.
My back is to him as he opens the door.
“Hey, I’m ready to go.” He’s calm as he says it. He’s not irritated or angry that I thoroughly fucked up his evening. I appreciate him for that. For giving me the chance to relax and forget about the hell that was my day.
My father never thinks my success is of my own making. He insists on taking credit for my sales growth even when I do the opposite of what he suggests. I couldn’t have done any of it without his investment. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t worked hard to get where I am. Or that I don’t deserve credit for my success.
Of course, I wouldn’t be so stressed if I hadn’t also decided to plan a last-minute celebration this weekend for Haley, complete with a wedding planning extravaganza with Sienna.
I thought picking the boat would relax me. It did. I feel calm on the water and in Orion’s presence. Being around him, venting my feelings to him and having him listen without trying to micromanage me, makes me feel safe. But he’s a risk. I could lose my heart to him and still be forced to see him constantly.
Right now, in his cabin, I feel safe. I want to hold on to that for a little longer.
I face Orion and step closer. I don’t want to talk or discuss this. I don’t want to fight. I simply move into his space and wait for him to react.
We know what happened the last time we were alone in this cabin. The air is warm between us.
“It was either bed or boat. It wasn’t both,” he says. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and cups my cheek. I place a kiss on the palm of his hand. “Carina, we?—”
I lift on my toes and press my lips to his. “Stop talking.”
He does as I ask and pulls me close, taking over command of the kiss. His tongue invades my mouth, and I let go.
This will end poorly, but I’m tired of seeking the right answers to everything. I want to rebel and do something I might regret. We’ve already done this once, and it wrecked me. I didn’t even know him then. Now I do, and I trust him to keep my secrets and to keep this in the little box we’ll put us in. He’ll wreck me again the way no one else has. But I can handle it.
The boat is our safe space.
He breaks the kiss and rests his forehead on mine. “I’ll stop talking in a minute. But I need to know, is this just tonight?”
“Just tonight. We need to get the tension out of our systems.” Boundaries are good for both of us. We’ll fuck and that will be it. Then everything will go back to the way it was. It doesn’t have to be complicated.
“Tonight is good,” he says, but doesn’t resume the kiss.
My heart is telling me to stop this now because I’ll end up wanting more. But this is what we agree is best. It’s not like I’m waiting for table scraps from him. I know exactly what’s happening here.
One of his hands cradles the back of my head and the other is on my hip. I place one hand on each of his and take a step back, pulling us to the bed. He might be the one to strip me down, but it’s only because I let him.
His lips find mine and it’s different somehow. Soft and gentle, like he’s trying to savor me. Last time, Orion said he wouldn’t treat me like a princess. Like I was something glass that could be broken. He didn’t, and I was sore for days and loved every second of it. He somehow knew that before him, sex was something that happened to me, rather than something I was an active participant in.
That’s not what Orion is doing now. His gentleness is throwing me for a loop. I don’t need it rough; I just need him. I thought he’d fight me all the way down, but he’s not.
The back of my knees hit the bed. The jolt sends me to my back, and I prop myself up on my elbows. A second later Orion is on top of me, his hands bracing himself on either side of my head and his knees outside of my hips.
He’s strong and powerful and so fucking attractive I can barely look at him. I’m stuck in his trap. I try to wiggle away, enjoying the little bit of fighting. He grabs me and sets my head on the pillows.
“No fighting on the boat,” he whispers with a gentle nip of my earlobe and then trails kisses down my neck.
I close my eyes and focus on the feeling of his lips and the way his muscles move under my hands. I lose myself in it as I remove his T-shirt and he removes the polo I’m wearing. Neither one of us pauses to appreciate each other’s body. Not like last time. His hand moves to my breast, and I gasp at the sensation as his thumb rubs the fabric over my nipple.
“This isn’t a win for you,” I say. He must be keeping score. He hasn’t been secretive about wanting to sleep with me again. But this isn’t me caving in to him. This is me finding peace with him.
“This is a win for us,” he responds. He struggles with my sports bra, so I take over. If there is one skill I have, it’s getting out of a sweaty sports bra.
I grab a condom out of my shorts before he pulls them down.
“Do you always carry protection in your pocket?”
“In my bag. I grabbed it when I came in here,” I admit. He resumes his position on top of me and reaches a hand between my legs, finding my already drenched core. “Preparation allows for spontaneity.”
I expect him to say something sarcastic, but he doesn’t. Instead, he moves down my body, and before I can process what he’s doing, his mouth is on my clit.
I can’t think about anything else. I only feel. My entire awareness is reduced to his fingers and his tongue and the scruff of his beard on my thighs. He teases me with one finger, and then two, curling until I see stars. It’s unfair that he knows my body so well this fast.
The rest of the world falls away. I tangle my hands in his hair so he knows he’s exactly where I want him. His strands are soft and a mess from blowing in the wind all evening. I need to focus on a different sensation, or I’ll fall into this storm too quickly. So I hold back. I can’t endure his smugness at how fast he makes me come. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since I’ve even had the time to masturbate. The last time I did, I thought of him. And I need this, badly.
But I can’t keep any of my pleasure a secret or hide from those spots that drive me wild. He knows. He’s always known. I cry out as I come, biting my lip to stop his name from escaping me.
He’s over me when I come down from the high, more relaxed than I have been in ages. I want more. He strokes my cheek and kisses me. I taste so good on him.
He’s quiet, which surprises me.
I reach for his shorts. He opens the condom and quickly sheathes himself. He places himself at my entrance. “You ready for this?”
“Yes,” I say, and he presses in.
“Fuck, you feel amazing.” He pushes in a little farther. “I’m taking this slow. You’re going to feel every inch of my cock. You’ll come again because you deserve it. And you’ll know it’s me giving you everything you need.”
Now he’s getting chatty? My instincts are to fight him, but I shouldn’t on this.
Not when sex with him feels so much like home.
I want this between us. I want him to be the only one who can make me feel good. And fuck, I want to be the only one he does this with.
He does as promised, moving slowly within my body, drawing out every movement so I feel everything intensely. His head rests against my neck and he’s kissing me or whispering something I can’t hear.
My orgasm builds slowly. A few times I think I’m about to lose it, but he keeps going, slowly testing my endurance. His hand finds mine and he intertwines our fingers and I fall over the edge. I come and my moan is silent. A few seconds later, he shudders, and I hear my name.
I’m back to reality much faster than I want. I wait as he pulls out and disposes of the condom. I wait for him to dismiss us. To claim this doesn’t mean anything.
He doesn’t.
I move to get up. He reaches for my hand. “Not yet.”
“What?”
“Don’t run away this time,” he pleads.
I want this to mean more than it does. “Let me clean up first.”
He nods.
When I return from the bathroom, he gestures for me to climb back into bed with him. I didn’t realize cuddling is an option. Still, I need a few minutes before my equilibrium resets.
I crawl under the covers and rest my head on his chest. I pay attention to his heartbeat. It starts fast. Over the next few moments, it slows until he is as relaxed as I am. His fingertips trace my side as I trace the anchor over his heart. It takes me a moment to realize he’s also lingering on my tattoo.
“Clever way to tattoo your name,” he comments.
I still my hand, surprised he recognized it. “Did you look it up?” I get asked about it a lot. Most assume it’s the Big or Little Dipper. One guy at a yoga retreat asked if it was Orion’s Belt. It was probably the only constellation he could name.
“I’m a sailor. I know the stars. And Carina is the keel of the Argo. You expect me to not know when you have a ship on you?” His voice is soft and reverent. Like my skin is a temple he is called to worship at.
My fingers slide to his waist and his compass tattoo. “Have you seen it?”
“I have.” He kisses my forehead. “I worked on charter yachts in Australia. You?”
“No.” The Carina constellation is only visible in the Southern Hemisphere.
“We could leave now. Sail south until we hit ice.”
It sounds sweet, like we have a future. We could do something fun and drastic together. But what I hear is: I’m only in Wendell Beach temporarily. I’m going to leave.
I tense. “We should head back.” I don’t need to drag this out.
He holds me tighter. “Let’s stay the night. It doesn’t count if we’re on the boat.”
It’s a tempting offer. We could hide here for a few more hours. I’m sure round two would be as good. He likely has a bottle of rum we could share. He could be my escape.
“I can’t,” I say. “I have an early morning yoga class.”
He examines my face for a moment and I hold his gaze.
He kisses my forehead. “I know when you’re not telling the truth.”
“It is the truth. Tomorrow is Wednesday,” I say. The one morning I teach.
“It’s not the reason you don’t want to stay.”
He has me there. Neither of us says what I’m thinking.
I slip out of his arms and find the clothes I discarded. He does the same. Once we’re back on the stern, I grab my bag as he steps onto the dock.
I freeze.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Will we start fighting as soon as we’re both off the boat?” I like the peace we’ve found, even if I believe it’s temporary.
He tilts his head at me. “Not unless you want to fight.”
“I don’t want to fight,” I admit.
“Then we won’t fight.” He reaches his hand out for mine. “Come on, let’s go home.”
I reach for him and then disentangle myself the second I can. He’s reluctant to let me go.
The ride home is silent.
“This doesn’t change anything,” I say when we pull into his garage. “And it won’t happen again. We needed to get it out of our systems.”
“Got it.” He exits the car.
He doesn’t care that I dismissed him. It’s wrong of me, but I want him to. I care. I’m pushing him away because I don’t think he does, and I’m afraid this will blow up in my face.
“That doesn’t bother you?” I chase him out of the vehicle.
“You’ve been clear about where I stand with you. Don’t worry, princess. Things can stay exactly where they have been,” he says without looking at me, his voice flat.
My preparations against him were useless. He was always going to get in.