Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Images of Weston hovering above me flash through my mind all night, making sleep near impossible. It’s like I can still feel his hips pressed into mine, his breath brushing my lips, the grumble in his chest as he questioned me.
I should not be this attracted to him, and I can’t make sense of it. How could someone as beguiling as him have such a cruel heart? My body can’t seem to control itself when it comes to Weston, and I blame it on pent up sexual frustration from stopping Dane so he didn’t find my map.
I toss and turn all night, giving up on staying hunkered close to the edge.
Sleep is intermittent, an unsatisfied ache preventing any true rest for my body or my mind.
I need it to go away, and there’s only one way to do it.
My eyes stay closed as I bite my lip, heart pounding in my ears, blocking out all other noise.
Fingertips brush over the soft shirt as my hand wanders slowly over my body, moving to fill the need itself. Part of me doesn’t care if I rustle the bedding, as long as I don’t make any other noises. My solitary focus is to get rid of this need.
I feel the edge of my undergarments and slowly slide beneath them, my hips wiggling in anticipation of the touch, when I freeze. The brush of lips on the tip of my shoulder startles me, followed by a callused palm sliding over my elbow, down my forearm.
“Let me.”
The voice grumbles in my ear and heat floods my entire body, the space between my thighs turning molten. My chest heaves as my hand quickly abandons its plan, instead grasping the sheets beside me as his lips trail light kisses across my collarbone.
I nod quickly, squeezing my eyes shut tighter.
I know if I open them, I might stop this from happening, even if my body is screaming at me to let it.
I feel his smile on my skin as he shifts over me, hovering, driving me wild without any contact except for his lips.
He trails his nose up the column of my neck, kissing and licking his way up to my jaw.
A hum fills my chest, and I lift my chin, giving him more access.
He slides his hand down my side, settling at the crease above my thigh. His fingers flutter, bunching my shirt until the hem is balled up in his hand. An involuntary shiver courses through me as the shirt slides up higher.
I know what he wants, and I arch my back, lifting off the bed, helping him slide the shirt over me until I’m left in only my undergarments.
His hands press into my skin, more insistent than before, grasping my waist as his lips find my neck again. He trails kisses down my chest before reaching up and freeing my breast from the lace. His large hand covers it, kneading and pulling, before sucking my nipple into his mouth.
I moan quietly, and he switches to the other, his hand covering the one he just left, tugging gently.
He releases me with a soft pop, then his lips find mine, slow but strong, coaxing my mouth open and brushing his tongue against mine in long languid strokes.
His hand moves then, trailing circles over my pebbled skin toward the place I am throbbing for him. I writhe under his fingers, my hips shifting, urging him on, begging him to touch me where I need him to.
He slips beneath my undergarments, cupping me and kneading the heel of his hand into my most sensitive spot. I groan against his mouth, and it encourages him, the kiss becoming more eager as his fingers explore and tease.
I gasp as he presses inside me, and my knees slide wider, the wet heat of my core begging him for more. My hands find his shoulders, his chest, and I pull him closer as he slowly pumps his finger into me.
I cry out as he hits something deep inside, and my eyes fly open, staring directly into his soft, gentle amber eyes.
“Come for me, Lennox,” he grumbles above me.
“Dane,” I moan as his pace increases, my hips wriggling to meet his motions. The pressure builds, tingling rising through my body as he pushes in and out, his eyes never leaving mine, watching the pleasure he is pulling from me.
“Oh, Dane,” I call out as it rises higher and higher, his palm now working me in tight circles.
SLAM.
The noise jolts me awake, my eyes flying open to find the early light of morning shining in through the windows.
My chest heaves, and a light sheen of sweat covers my body.
Wrestling the blankets off me, I try to pull away the damp shirt that sticks to my skin.
I need to cool down. Everything inside me is still wound up as tight as when I fell asleep, and maybe even more.
I glance around the room, trying to find the source of the sound, when my eyes fall on Weston standing at his desk, sliding my dagger into his vest. He isn’t looking at me, and his expression is unreadable.
My cheeks heat as I take him in, remembering my dream from only moments ago.
I feel like it is written all over my face, but there’s no way he could know.
It was all in my head, and I’m the only one who is uncomfortable about it.
I just need to pretend like nothing happened, and figure out a way to get it off my mind.
I clear my throat and slide off the side of the bed, pulling down the shirt that had bunched up around my hips in the midst of my dream.
Weston fiddles with something on the desk as I pad over to the armoire, and pull out a new set of clothes. I refuse to look at him. My face is still warm with embarrassment and desire, and I don’t want him to see my flushed cheeks.
Once I am back on my side, my back to him, he breaks the silence.
“You talk in your sleep.”
I freeze, one leg halfway in the pants as I process what he just said, and I’m frozen for so long I almost tip over.
Horrified.
That is all I feel right now.
Throw me off the side of the ship and let the ocean take me, mortified.
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammer, my limbs finally regaining the ability to move. I shove my legs in the pants and pull them up under the shirt, tying them quickly and tightly.
He has to be lying, trying to ruffle my feathers after my escape attempt last night, just like he does when he calls me princess. He’s toying with me, trying to make it seem like I’m a burden to share a room with. There’s no way his comment has anything to do with my dream.
“Oh, I think you might.” The rumble in his voice makes my breath catch.
He knows.
He definitely knows.
I refuse to look back at him. Instead, I intently focus on getting dressed underneath his large shirt and ignore his scent filling my senses.
Right when the nightmares have disappeared, and I’m grateful to finally get solid sleep, I have a sex dream.
In front of Weston.
I silently plead for him to leave, so I can have a moment to sit in my humiliation before having to go out onto the deck and be demeaned by the rest of the crew, scrubbing the boards by hand so everyone can gawk at me.
He doesn’t leave.
The clink of his belt buckle is the only sound, and I wonder why he needs to wear an empty scabbard all day. I don’t actually care what he does with it. I just need him to get out of this room.
Right now.
“Most men who have a woman in their bed aren’t exactly happy if she calls out another man’s name.”
“Oh gods,” I groan and drop my face in my hands. “Please stop talking,” I beg, a growl lighting on the last syllable. His boots pound on the wooden floor as he heads toward the door.
“Sounds like you need to work out some frustration,” he says, the words harsh, almost threatening. “Get dressed and meet me on deck. You have two minutes.”
He steps out the door, leaving it open for me to follow behind him, and I listen as his boots stomp down the hall. There’s pounding on a door, some muffled voices, then another door closes.
It is only moments before Sig’s voice calls out repeatedly, as she moves through the belly of the ship. “All hands on deck!”
Now that I’m alone, I pull the damp shirt off and slide mine over my head before Sig’s head peeks into the room. “Hurry and head up to the main deck.”
“Yeah, I know,” I huff, bending down to lace my boots.
She steps in closer and leans against the doorjamb, crossing her arms over her chest.
“What’s up with you?” Her eye trail over me and land on my face, and a single eyebrow raises as she takes in my flustered appearance.
“Nothing.” My foot slams into the other boot.
She tries to hide a smile with pursed lips and nods. “You better move faster than that.” She disappears back down the hallway just as I stand and straighten my clothes before following her to the main deck, unsure of what I am going to find when I get there.
Weston is right. I do have a lot of frustration I need to work out, but now most of it is directed at him.
He’s humiliated me repeatedly, both publicly and privately, and he will not get away with it.
I may be just anyone here in Dawnlin, but I’m still a fucking princess, and I will not tolerate him treating me like I’m deserving of indignity.
I just hope he keeps his mouth shut. I don’t need anyone else’s judgment, and I definitely don’t need Weston telling anyone what happened in that room.
Breathing out some of the anger in prolonged exhales, I step out onto the deck, standing with the rest of the crew already assembled there.
Something tells me this morning is only going to keep getting better.