13. Seas the Day #2
I take in a shaky breath, pausing to admire him.
The brush of dark hair sweeping over me as he bends farther still and wraps his hands in the fabric of my shirt, his teeth scraping over my collarbone, the flutter of his eyelashes on my skin.
The hungry, almost pained expression on his face as he presses a string of kisses to my chest.
I blink away the haze, the cloud of lust that seems to filter everything I’m seeing, and zero in on that spot of blue across the room. My hands freeze in his hair, my breath coming out in a big whoosh.
Do I even want to return home? Do I have to? Or could I just stay with him, here, now, being held like this, forever? Wanted like this?
He pushes against my shoulder, and the thought escapes me as I fall back with a soft exhale, my hands going to his hips, my nails digging into his skin.
My fingers find the knots of a scar, a gunshot or a stab wound, and my thumb brushes across it as he works his way down my neck.
His hard length is against my thigh, and before I can make a quip about his pistol pressing against me through his pants, his lips travel farther, his tongue tracing a path down my body, and I sink with him, his touch tugging me beneath the surface and silencing me.
Heat rolls off him, his chest pinning me down, his hair fanning out around us, and all I can smell is him. It’s that dizzying, heady scent of his that makes it difficult to focus on anything else.
I don’t want this to stop. I don’t want him to look at me any differently. I want him to continue seeing me, to continue looking at me as if I am his everything.
Continue kissing me like I’m his everything.
I try to forget about the coat, to let myself stay in the here and now, in this moment of falling so completely, but it’s no use.
It takes every ounce of willpower I have to lift my hands from his hips.
He raises his head in question, and I’m ready to push him away, to tell him the truth, when someone knocks on the door.
He glances over his shoulder, his hair brushing my face.
My chest rises and falls rapidly as I struggle to catch my breath.
“Yes?” he calls.
He presses a hand to my mouth when I go to speak, and I can’t help it, I take one of his fingers in my mouth and suck, biting gently. His eyes widen, lips parting in surprise. Why am I like this? Why can’t I stop even when I’ve thought of betraying him, of betraying this?
His hair is mussed, and I want to tug him back down, to ignore the person on the other side of the door, ignore the blue coat that is my ticket back to London. Give myself this much.
There is a beat of silence, and I think for a moment we imagined it, but then a familiar first mate’s voice calls through the door, “We found something, Cap’ain.”
Captain Night cups my cheek and kisses me on the lips softly before he climbs from my lap and crosses to the doors, opening them to peer out. “What is it?” he asks gruffly.
“We ’ave a lead, Cap’ain.”
“I’ll be there in a moment,” he tells Jack.
I struggle to sit up and smooth down my hair as he closes the door. There’s another awkward beat of silence as we stare at each other.
We’re both out of breath, pieces of us still caught up in the kiss, in those long, heated minutes. And I know that there’s no going back. For some inexplicable reason, ever since I arrived on his ship, this was inevitable.
We are inevitable.
But there are things to do, places to be, and he is a captain above all else.
He tears his gaze from me, hands rubbing roughly at his jaw before dropping down as if he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
Finally, he nods to me as though we’ve just signed a business deal, and sir, what have I agreed to?
I open my mouth to ask, but he disappears behind the screen, returning in a crisp off-white shirt. This one is practically new, the sleeves and fabric creased as if it’s been folded and hidden away in a chest.
There’s more fabric balled in his hand, and he tosses it to me. I catch it, holding up dark pants and a shirt not too dissimilar from the one he is wearing.
He nods to them, a small smile curling the corner of his mouth as he takes me in. “For your sake, please change.”
And I’m pulled back to the kiss, to that comment he made about my smell, and I’m both embarrassed and still incredibly turned on. I know he’s tracking me, watching my every movement as I stand, so I hold the clothes in front of my pants and shuffle forward.
Grimacing, I disappear behind the screen and shed the old clothes. They do smell horrendous—I smell horrendous. I look to the empty bathing tub behind me and wish I had the time to rinse myself clean of the last few days on the ship.
Peering over the top of the screen to make sure he isn’t watching, I pull the bundle of clothes he gave me up to my nose and sniff. They smell like him, that soft tobacco and sugar scent that makes me want to grab him by the collar of his shirt and drag his lips back to mine.
“Hurry, Laszlo.”
Jumping in surprise, I nearly drop the clothes before catching them. I run them through my fingers once more before I kick the old clothes off to the side.
There are bruises and cuts along my skin.
Still, they are nothing compared to the open wounds on my hands.
Hissing at the ache in my muscles, I tug on the pants and shirt, reaffixing my belt afterward.
Though the pants are a bit short on me, they’re a better length than the previous ones I wore, and the shirt is a surprisingly good fit.
When I reemerge from behind the screen, he gives a curt nod, expression inscrutable.
I straighten before crossing to the door.
He stops me, a hand on my wrist as I reach for the handle.
My face heats, and I feel the thump of my heart against my ribs as we stare silently at each other.
I want to kiss him. Hell, even though I hardly know him, I want to tell him everything, about who I am, how I actually came aboard his ship, but I bite my tongue.
“Later,” he says gruffly, “you and I have much to discuss.”
“Okay.”
He’s still staring, his fingers lingering on me, and I don’t know what to do.
I blink and turn away, throwing open the door and rushing out. Jack waits for us on the other side, brow raised as he takes us in while Captain Night locks his room. If he can see it in my face, Jack says nothing.
Captain Night nods to Jack before starting for the stairs. Jack shoots me a pointed look as we follow him.
I glance back at the double doors as we descend, and I wish we’d never left the confines of his room.