10. Seth
Seth
Over the next three days, I come up with a few solutions to stay focused on work.
Every time Nick stares at me a little too long with that gleam of sex in his eyes, I force myself to think of Jorgensen and all the Bahamian sand that made it through Customs via his nether regions.
Every time he calls me “Rit”, and I find myself remembering the way he panted it while I had him in my mouth, I pop over to the bait station and take a big whiff.
Every time his body brushes mine when we pass by each other, I lean crotch-first against the nearest frozen railing.
Works like a charm.
The fishing’s been good, so we’re working around the clock.
The most time I spend with Nick is when he’s in his quarters and I’m manning the helm.
Which is a whole new sort of torture, now that I have a vivid memory of what he looks like lying in that bed, disheveled and tipsy and covered in my cum.
The engine is blaring, but I know he’s finally stirring down there as the sun rises over the water. Pale gold glittering at the crest of every swell.
I can picture him as if I’m in the room—blankets pooled around his hips, his chest bare…
or maybe a sliver of stomach showing where his thermals rose up in his sleep.
He’s rolling on his socks and heading to the bathroom.
Willing the exhaustion away as he brushes his teeth and pulls a hat on instead of bothering to comb his hair.
My eyes have been fixed on the brightening horizon for the past four hours, but all at once, the room lights up when Nick opens his door and steps into the wheelhouse.
“Morning,” he says, his voice deliciously hoarse. He squints as his eyes adjust to the bright display screens and the light pouring through the windows.
“Morning, Nicky,” I say as he stands beside me, looking out at the water. My favorite sunrise view just one-upped itself.
A bald eagle swoops down, port side. Banking low over the surface of the water. It pulls up at the last second, talons skimming the trough of a wave, and rises back into the buttery sky with nothing. A miss.
“Hopefully we pull in more than him today,” Nick says.
“Nah, that’s just fishing. Sometimes you’ve gotta be persistent. He’s got the right idea.” I point up at the sky, both of us watching the best programming there is. Nature’s.
The eagle tucks its wings and drops back down to the water.
This time, talons break the surface and come back with a flash of silver twisting in their grip. The eagle beats its wings twice, gaining altitude before it arcs directly toward the Suoja. Perching on top of a stack of pots with its kill.
Nick huffs a laugh. “Yep. That’s just fishing.”
The eagle tears into the sand lance, its hook-tipped beak shredding through scales and flesh.
“That’s supposed to be a sign of good luck or something, isn’t it?” I say.
“Some people think so. I think it’s a sign that our bait’s about to go missing.”
“Watch us pull up a hundred keepers per pot, just like the good ole days.”
“I’ll hand-feed him the rest of our cod if that happens.”
The corner of my mouth tugs up. “I think that’s what you’d be, if you were a sea creature. Not an octopus. An eagle.”
“Birds count?”
“Of course they do. They’re part of the marine ecosystem.”
Nick glances at me curiously, fatigue fading from his eyes. “And why would I be an eagle?”
“Well for one, they’re highly protective of their families, just like you are with your crew.
They’re graceful, smart. Analytical and precise in the way they hunt.
” I gesture out at the water, biting down on my lip before I decide to let the last part fly.
“And I don’t think you’re solitary by nature.
Maybe eagles aren’t the most social, but they do have their pair. ”
“Their pair,” he repeats faintly.
“Mm-hm.”
He moves in a little closer, his pinky tangling with mine. About to steal a touch, a kiss—maybe, hopefully—before someone starts up the crew mess stairs.
Nick steps away just in time, clearing his throat as Perry joins us. “Any updates?”
“Yeah.” I switch my work-brain back on, pulling up the weather radar on the display and rattling off the updates I was going to give him before we got sidetracked.
“Been monitoring the weather channel. There’s a system moving in.
First advisory came through a couple hours ago—Northwest winds building to thirty-five to forty-five knots by this evening.
Fourteen to eighteen-foot seas. I’ve already adjusted our heading to keep us off the leading edge, but if we push north to check the next string, we’ll run straight into it by nightfall. ”
Nick leans over the display, nodding. “How far to St. Paul?”
“Four, maybe four and a half hours at current speed. We’d make it well ahead of the weather.”
“All right, then. We’ll pull the last string here, then run over to the harbor. Anchor up and ride it out. I’d rather not fish in that shit.” He straightens. “Got anything for me, Perry?”
“Yes, sir. Was just going to let you know everybody’s up and ready to haul,” he says. “Sounds like we need to get moving on it.”
Right. Time to get moving, because we’re always moving out here. Away from each other, more often than not.
“Yep,” Nick says. “Sooner we finish, the more sleep everybody can get while we’re anchored.”
“You’ve got it, boss.” Zach ties his long hair back into a ponytail. “I’d pull the damn things in with my bare hands for an extra hour in bed.”
He heads back down straightaway, but I stay for a minute. Wondering if Nick is thinking the same thing I am when he meets my eyes.
I’ve never wished for shitty weather before. Especially not during this time of year.
Winter’s first breath is clashing with the last remnants of summer warmth, brewing heavy winds, choppy seas, and freezing rain. But if it keeps us stuck at St. Paul Harbor, I’m crossing my fingers that the storm lingers as long as possible.
Anchoring means anchor watch. Which means that, for a four-hour window, my bunkmate will be gone. And Nick will have nowhere he needs to be.
“Looks like I’ll have a cabin to myself later,” I say.
He swallows. “Should be nice and quiet. Without the snoring.”
“Real quiet.” I drop my lips to his ear. Close enough that the warmth of sleep on his skin makes me shiver. “So how quiet do you think you can be, Captain?”
“Just me?” he murmurs, fighting his smile. “You’re louder than I am.”
“That’s why I’m gonna count on you to keep my mouth busy.”
Desire fills his eyes like the thick cloud of mist at the base of a waterfall. “Your mouth is busy ruining me. That’s what it’s doing.”
“God, I hope so. I’d love to ruin you, if you’ll let me.”
A pained rumble works its way up from the back of his throat.
I want him like crazy, but I leave him with the open invitation. Sneaking into my cabin has risks, and I don’t want him in my bed if he’s going to be nervous the entire time.
He might not show up. I certainly shouldn’t look forward to it… but I can’t help myself.
The minutes pass by quicker on deck when they feel like stepping stones toward four whole hours of privacy. The water slapping my face doesn’t feel so cold when I think about crawling under the sheets with him afterward.
I meant everything I promised Nick. For him, I’ll keep any secret. I’ll take every precaution. I’ll pretend he’s nothing more than my boss.
I just hate that hiding means losing more time we could’ve had together. We’ve already lost enough.