Bermuda Nights - The Boxed Set (14 page)

He raised an eyebrow, but dutifully put both arms up into the air. I took the edges of his t-shirt and carefully eased it up over his head.

 

The man was stunning.

 

I’d seen him in full light before, of course, at the beach. And when my massage had finished, I’d had a brief opportunity to soak the sight of him in before we had to return to the real world. But this was different. We were alone in my room, with all the time in the world, just him and me. This was not the half-light of flickering candlelight or streaming moonlight. I could see every curve of muscle, every ripple of strength.

 

It took my breath away.

 

I knelt before him. I carefully put my hand over his heart and slowly, attentively, drew my fingers down his ribs, sliding my fingers along each one, pressing gently. The realization of all he had been through was coming into awareness, now that the shock was wearing off, and the immensity of the danger he’d been in shook me to my core.

 

My voice trembled as I reached the last rib. “Does this hurt?”

 

His voice was hoarse. “I’m not sure
hurt
is the word I would use …”

 

I blinked and looked up. His gaze was full on me, shadowed, a mingling of desire and pride and something deeper, something intangible.

 

I swallowed. “We have to make sure you’re ok.”

 

“I’ve made it through worse.”

 

I put my hand on his left breast. His breathing deepened as I slid my fingers down his torso, caressing him, pressing in along the muscles, along the sinews of his strength. I examined each rib for signs of damage. My voice was rough when I reached the bottom. “You’re sure everything is all right?”

 

His voice wrapped around me. “I’d say it’s far better than all right.”

 

I brought my attention to his left shoulder, working my way down his arm. There were purpling bruises, and a few ragged cuts, but nothing more serious.

 

I moved over to the right side. I examined his arm, the elbow, finally reaching his hand, the firm fingers swollen and bruised. Tears brimmed in my eyes as I took in the damage he’d done to himself to keep me safe – and I knew it could have been far, far worse. “Oh, Evan, this is all my fault.”

 

He shushed me. “Amanda, you know better than that. You could say it’s Kayla’s fault for taking you on the cruise. Or Boston University’s fault for accepting your application. You can’t worry about what specific sequence of events got you to a place. The variables are beyond imagining. You can only make your decision from where you stand.” He gave a wry smile, looking down at me. “And I chose to force Jeff into ending his little crusade.”

 

“You could have been seriously hurt,” I moaned.

 

He brought his right hand up to cup my face. “And if I had been, it would have been worth it.
You
are worth it.”

 

I shook my head. “You are a guitarist. Your talent is in your hands, in your fingers. And look at what I’ve done to them!”

 

He hooked his hands beneath my arms, drawing me up to sit straddled on his legs. “
I
have done this to them,” he gently corrected. “I chose my own path, and I would choose it again.” He looked into my eyes. “I choose you. Over the guitars, over my fingers, over –”

 

Our lips crashed together, my arms coming up around his back, his own drawing me in, crushing me against him. The adrenaline and power and shock all cascaded and released within me, and the world fell away.

 

I barely knew as my t-shirt stripped off, then my sweats. Evan’s jeans and briefs followed hard behind, and his body was above mine, his gaze locked on me.

 

Plunge.

 

He filled me, expanded me, and I could see into his soul, releasing all corners of my body, all hidden nooks, all distant shadows. Our worlds opened and turned inside out, and every surface of me was revealed to him, exposed, and I cried out in blissful joy. His voice joined mine, wordless, singing, echoing in the small room. Our bodies moved in unison, as we rose, rose, lifted, and exploded into a million shimmering pieces.

 

He pulled out from me and I gasped at the separation, feeling it like a cold wind whistling fiercely through my core. Then he turned me onto my hands and knees, lifted my hands so they rested against the wall above my pillow, and slipped right back into me, as if he’d always belonged there, as if this were our natural state, and the ache in me calmed. I pressed back against his rich hardness.

 

His left hand slid up to caress my breast, while the right delved into my moist sex. His fingers rippled as he slowly pressed and released against me. “How healthy do my fingers seem to you?”

 

I moaned with his rocking action. I was still floating down from our explosive joining, and I could barely speak.

 

“That good, mmmm? Maybe I should reassure you that they weren’t seriously injured.” He thrummed his finger against my clit, and a shudder sank through me. His lips came to my neck, sucking, and the pleasure of it shafted deep into my core.

 

There was a noise to our right, and I froze. Not only were these cabins the size of a mouse-hole, but the walls seemed parchment-paper-thin.

 

A male voice sounded, weary. “Well, that’s another hundred you lost at bingo.”

 

The woman gave a merry laugh. “Yup, and I’ll lose another hundred tomorrow. No worse than that golf habit of yours. Now how about some cribbage.”

 

“Sure, sure. I’ll get the vodka and tonics.” There was the noise of ice being put into glasses.

 

Evan’s fingers slid against my clit, and it took every ounce of my focus to bite back on the groan which shuddered through my body. I turned my head back to look at him.

 

His eyes sparkled with a combination of merriment and rich desire, and he lowered his mouth to mine. His tongue delved deep within my mouth, then he rocked his hips forward, driving hard into me. His other hand squeezed my nipple.

 

My groan was lost within him; I was wholly surrounded and engulfed by his body.

 

His hips slowly, steadily build up speed, his hand kneading my breast, the other sliding against my slick sex, and my ragged breaths were half-cries, my tongue dancing against his, my body completely lost. I could no longer tell where he ended and I began. We were part of the same song, aspects of the same voice, and we would come around to where we began on endless repeat. I was lost, floating above myself, and his finger thrummed, his hand caressed, his tongue danced.

 

Then the thrust filled me, enveloped me fully.

 

I was gone.

 

Time lost all meaning. I was drifting, aloft on glowing clouds, turning slowly in a waltz with the motes of the universe.

 

After an eternity he rolled us on our sides, spooning, and still the world seemed golden-edged, like a stunning sunrise and breathtaking sunset had merged into some new, glorious season. And it was for us alone.

 

At last, at long last, I turned in his arms, looking up into his eyes. He gazed at me, full of emotion, and one finger gently traced along my chin. His voice was tight when he spoke. “God, Amanda, this will be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

 

I smiled and pressed a soft kiss against his lips. “And what might that be?”

 

He let out a long breath, holding my gaze. Then at last he spoke, as if he were forcing the words out. “I want you to leave the ship.”

 

Chapter 3

I chuckled, brushing my lips against his. “The ship leaves port in just over an hour. Whatever you’ve got in mind – a walk on the beach, a last look at our silver porgies – it’ll have to wait until next time.” The thought of coming out here again with him, or maybe making it an annual vacation where we relived our first meeting, warmed me to my very core.

 

He shook his head, his gaze becoming serious. “No, Amanda. I mean I will get you a room at the Pompano Beach Club. All charges covered, and the airfare home, too. You can snorkel for another few days, then return back to Boston right on schedule.”

 

My brows creased. I pulled back to look fully at him, running a hand down his side. “Are you worried about Jeff? He’s a bully, but I saw the look in his eyes at the end. You had him beat. He won’t cause any trouble at all. And I won’t let him, either. I’ll stay with Kayla and we’ll keep in public places. It’s Tuesday afternoon. There’s only Wednesday and Thursday, and then we’re home Friday morning. It’ll be fine.”

 

His eyes held mine, shadowed. “It’s not Jeff.”

 

“Then what –”

 

Scenes burst into my mind, one after another, shaking me.

 

Sven casually laying out his heroin in the band’s cabin.

 

Me frantically wanting to alert Evan to the danger.

 

Evan appearing from the side of the room.

 

Our eyes meeting.

 

I pushed back from Evan before I realized I was in motion. He carefully drew to sitting, his gaze withdrawing further from me. He gave the softest of nods. “You should go.”

 

My throat closed up. I knew I should say something, but my mind was completely at a loss. It was as if I were adrift and there were no recognizable shapes within sight. I had no idea which way to turn.

 

My gaze settled on the bed alongside mine, the blankets in a tumble, the pillows jammed into one corner. I latched onto the one thing I knew.

 

“I need to talk with Kayla.”

 

He nodded, his look somber and determined. “Of course you do. If I had to guess, she’s probably back in the band’s room with Sven.”

 

I pulled away from him, picking up the phone and punching in the combination for his room number, 222. The phone was answered on the second ring, and Sven’s rich voice soared from the phone. “Yes? Sven here.”

 

I could barely speak the words. “Is Kayla there? This is Amanda.”

 

A moment of tumbled noise, and then Kayla came on the phone. “Yeah, ‘Mand? There you are. Wow, you were up and gone when I woke up. You must have wanted an early breakfast! What’s up?”

 

“Can you come back to the room? I need to talk with you about something.”

 

“Yeah, sure, hun. Be there in five.”

 

I replaced the phone in its place, and Evan climbed out of bed, pulling on his clothes with neat efficiency. A chill settled within me, one I recognized from that day of my graduation ceremony. The coldness which had descended on me as I read Jeff’s text, his clinical severing of our two-year relationship with a brief burst of letters.

 

I could feel my brain calmly, neatly disconnecting from all emotions.

 

Evan tucked his t-shirt into place, then turned to look at me. “I’ll wait down the hall. When you’re ready, I’ll make sure your bags get transferred. You won’t have to do anything at all. I’ll take care of everything.”

 

My voice was a snap. “I’ll bet you will.”

 

Pain seared, sizzling, against the walls of my heart. Evan was getting rid of me in order to cover up his illegal activities.

Disappointment welled within me from every cell. Disappointment in him for letting me down. Disappointment in myself for not turning him in – for allowing myself to be bought off for sex and a hotel room. But I knew one thing. I had to get Kayla off the ship and away from it all. The rest could come later.

 

His look shadowed and he nodded. “I’ll be back for your things.”

 

“Mine and Kayla’s,” I growled.

 

His eyes widened in awareness, and his mouth opened as if he’d object. Then he closed it again. “Both of you. Of course. Just be quick – the ship is leaving soon.”

 

There was a sound at the door, and he turned. I pulled on a t-shirt and sweats just before Kayla got the keycard sorted out and the door pushed in.

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