All the Pretty Poses

Page 9

And, best of all, I’ve watched her fail.
I’ve seen the little glances my way. I’ve observed the way she tucks her hair behind her ear when I speak and I’ve seen the way she smoothes the chills on her arms when our eyes meet. I can feel her attraction to me like the humidity in the air. It makes me want to strip her bare, to lay her on the table and lick the moisture from her skin while everyone else watches. And wants her. Yet can’t have.
While it frustrates me that she’s hell bent on resisting me, it also excites me to some degree. The feeling of conquest when she does give in—which she will, I have no question—will be even greater. And my baser instincts thrill at the notion of that.
So, in the end, I grit my teeth and bear it because I’m smart enough and strategic enough to let her have this time before I really start working on her. I’m content to let her think she’s winning. Until I’m ready to win. And then it’s game over. Simple as that.
After a glass of brandy in the lounge, the excitement of the day starts to wear on everyone. One by one, they all start to make their excuses and head for bed, Kennedy included.
Of course, Sig offers to walk her to her cabin. It sets my teeth on edge, but I smile and nod my goodnight to them anyway. As I watch her walk out of the room, head high, shoulders square, Sig’s hand on the small of her back, I get a pang of…something. Something I felt a long time ago…for a girl I met in the woods.
Several minutes after they’re gone, minutes during which I can’t get that gnawing sensation to leave my gut, I get up and make my way down the stairs and down the hall to the bow of the ship where Kennedy’s room is.
As I walk, I find myself imagining Sig threading his fingers into Kennedy’s hair, kissing those sexy-as-hell lips, pushing her back into the darkness of her room. My steps get heavier. I get angrier the closer I get to her closed door. My chest is tight and my pulse is pounding as my body prepares for me to beat the shit out of my brother’s future in-law if he has made the grave mistake of being in Kennedy’s room.
Bang, bang, bang, I thump on Kennedy’s door. I’m aware of how furious and aggressive the knock sounds. When I left the lounge, this was not how I pictured things going, but damn if she hasn’t managed to piss me off anyway.
When Kennedy answers the door, barely cracking it to peek out, I struggle to keep my sudden rage in check.
“Are you alone?” I ask gruffly.
Kennedy frowns. “Of course,” she replies as if I’m being ridiculous. I don’t let her see the way my lungs deflate as I release the breath I was holding.
“Can I come in?”
She eyes me suspiciously for a few seconds before she nods once and steps back to let me in.
In the low light, I can see that she’s already changed clothes. Now she’s wearing some tiny little cut-off sweat pants and a worn gray tee shirt that says Exotique across the front. It draws my eye to the lush curves underneath and I clench my fists to keep from pulling her into my arms and letting the feel of her skin soothe my irritation.
“What do you want, Reese?” she asks as she sits on the edge of her bed, crossing her arms over her chest.
As agitated as I am, I can still find room to tease her. “Now that’s a loaded question if I’ve ever heard one.”
She gives me a withering look, but I can tell by the way she’s flicking her fingernails, something she did when we were younger when she got nervous, that she’s not as immune to my presence as she’d have me think.
Her next words surprise me. “Why did you give me this room, Reese?”
“Why not?”
“Because no other room is this nice.”
“You haven’t seen the staterooms then.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Is it so wrong that I’d want you to be comfortable? To have a little extra space and a window?”
“It is if you’re expecting something in return.”
“I told you what I want, Kennedy.”
“And I told you that it’s not going to happen.”
I can tell my smile surprises her. “God, I love how feisty you are. You’ve changed a lot, haven’t you?”
She raises her chin a notch. “I’ve had to.”
I can’t keep myself from moving closer. I don’t want to. Waiting one second longer to put my hands on her is just too much. I have to touch her.
Kennedy doesn’t move until I stop right in front of her, my knees brushing hers where she sits on the bed. She tilts her head back to maintain contact, but otherwise, she doesn’t move a muscle. I’m not even sure she’s breathing. I’m not even sure I’m breathing.
I reach down and push one long, silky strand of hair over her shoulder, my fingertips grazing her neck. I feel her twitch, like she got a jolt of the electricity that seems to always be moving between us.
“But some things never change, do they?” I ask her softly, feeling more and more like that nineteen year old kid the longer I’m around her.
Kennedy’s eyes freeze over. “That’s where you’re wrong. Everything changes, Reese. Everything.”
I give her a wry smile. “You’re probably right. But that doesn’t mean everything changes for the worse. Some things only get better.”
“But most don’t.”
“That’s not true. And especially in our case.”
“You can’t know that.”
“Yes, I can. You can try to pretend that you don’t feel it, but I know you do. There’s something between us, Kennedy. There always has been.”
“You’re mistaken,” she says boldly, but I hear the tremor in her voice. I see the forced bravado in her eyes.
“I’m not. Never about this. About us. I know you think you should resist it, that this is a road you don’t want to travel, but trust me, you would enjoy it.”
“There’s more to life than pleasure, Reese.” Kennedy stands, her body sliding up against mine in a way that makes me ache to toss her onto the bed and tear her tattered little t-shirt off. “And I wouldn’t trust you as far as I could pick you up and throw you.”
“Maybe you will. If you’d just be a little more open to me, you’d see that I’m right.”
“Maybe I don’t want to.”
“But you do. And you will. I’ll prove it.”
“Prove what?” she asks.
I don’t answer her. I simply smile as I bend forward to brush her lips with mine. It’s a small taste that only makes me want more. But the shiver I feel run through her at the contact makes it easier to pull away. It just reiterates what I already know in my gut—eventually she’ll be mine. She’ll come to me. And I’ll be waiting.
“Here’s your schedule. You might need it.” I give her the piece of paper that I brought for her and I turn to go. I leave the room, leave her standing.
Leave her wanting.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - Kennedy
“So are you gonna tell me what’s going on with you and Prince Charming?” Brian doesn’t even pause as he leans into my leg to stretch it.
“What are you talking about?”
He rolls his brown eyes at me. “Oh come on! You didn’t think I’d notice?”
“Notice what?”
“The way he looks at you…and the way you try not to look at him. Girl, you don’t have to play Snow White with me.”
“I’m not playing anything with anybody.”
“And why not? This is a fantasy cruise. Don’t you want a little fantasy for yourself?”
“That’s not a fantasy. That’s a train wreck.”
“Wow, you don’t sound bitter at all,” he mocks with a smile. “I take it you two knew each other before?”
I feel my guard come up, like it always does. “Something like that.”
“Well, maybe that’ll give you an advantage. You’re sure going to need one. I’ve never seen that man not get what he wants. What or who.”
I give Brian my brightest smile as he relaxes back and then leans into me again. “Well, maybe this’ll be good for him.”
“This oughtta be interesting,” he replies. “And you know I’ll want all the details.”
“I’m not really a details person,” I admit candidly. “Not that there will be any details to discuss.”
“This is a long trip. And a small ship. You’ll need a friend. Trust me.”
I just smile, letting the conversation die. And just in time, too. Brian and I both look toward the door when we hear it open a few seconds later. Reese strides in, looking refreshed and gorgeous as ever in his snug white t-shirt and black shorts. I’ve never forgotten what great legs he has—muscular, tan, not too hairy.
He nods at Brian and shoots me that bone-melting smile of his. And, of course, my bones melt. Then I become irritated. I hate that I react to him the way I do, but try as I might, I can’t seem to stop it.
With determination, I turn my attention back to Brian. “What were you saying?” I ask politely, keeping my eyes trained on his, even though it’s all I can do not to watch Reese as he crosses the room behind him.
Brian chuckles. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
I give him a disdainful look and then we both laugh. For another hour, Brian stretches and works my muscles relentlessly, even more so than the personal trainer for Exotique. And for that hour, Reese watches. Every time I sneak a peek at him, his eyes are on us, burning a hot path over every inch of my body. And even though I’m not as overt, and even though I hate that I do it, I find myself watching Reese, too. I watch his muscles strain as he lifts and pushes and squeezes. I watch his golden skin shift as he moves. I watch his lips purse as he exhales. And, from the corner of mine, I watch his eyes devour me.
When it’s finally time for Brian to cool me down, my heart is racing and the sheen of sweat on my brow has nothing to do with physical exertion. It’s like I’ve spent the last hour being touched and caressed, being stripped bare and consumed by Reese.
All from across the room.
I’m ready to bolt and get away from him when Brian lets me go. I need space, distance. But I soon realize those are two things I’m not likely to get when I’m stuck on a yacht in the employ of Reese.
And when he makes no bones about wanting me in his arms.
Evidently Reese doesn’t plan to give me much of a reprieve from him. I’ve just had a shower and am sitting down to some oatmeal in the crew kitchen area when Karesh enters. My lips are puckered and I’m blowing on a hot spoonful when he stops at the table.
“Are you finding everything you need, Ms. Moore?”
I give him a smile and a nod. “I am, thank you, Mr. Karesh,” I say with the spoon hovering near my mouth.
“Don’t let me stop you,” he says, returning my smile. “I’ve just come by to tell you that your presence has been requested on the main deck for the day. A late breakfast will be served if you’d like something else to eat. Be sure to wear your swimsuit. You should have everything you need in your room, but if you find that’s not the case, let me know immediately and I’ll see to it that you have it within the hour.”
I simply nod and smile again, my mind already racing over what this might mean for me.
Why am I being summoned? Who has requested my company? What’s expected of me?
As though the questions are visible on my face, Karesh touches my shoulder in a comforting way. “Don’t give it too much thought. Just go and have fun. This is a pleasure cruise after all.”
With a pat-pat-pat on my shoulder, Karesh nods again before he turns to leave, as though his words explained everything rather than making it worse.
A pleasure cruise? For whom? Because I know he can’t possibly mean for me. I’m here to work. Nothing more.
It’s with growing unease that I dump out my uneaten oatmeal, wash the bowl and make my way back to my room to look through my overflowing closet. It’s not until I open the built-in drawers at the bottom of the closet that I see, among other things, the bathing suits Reese has so generously provided. Of course, they’re much nicer than the ones that I brought, although a couple are far more revealing than anything I’d ever be caught dead in. I touch the sequined and intricately-painted suits, debating on what to wear. My eyes keep returning to one with swirls of teal and blue, like a peacock’s plumage. I take it out and flip through the closet, finding a sheer floral top and matching short sarong in shades of green and blue. I slip it on, noting the perfect fit before I pile my hair on top of my head and push my feet into jeweled green sandals. There were even sunglasses in one drawer, so I grab a pair and slide them into place. If nothing else they will hide my eyes from Reese.
I remember Brian’s instructions on how to get outside from my room way up in the bow of the ship. Left-right-left. Sure enough, it takes me directly to the doors that lead to the top deck.
Reese is sitting at the covered bar area that sits behind the small pool and hot tub. At either end are bowls and platters, stacked and arranged and overflowing with food. Beside him is Hemi. Sloane and Sig are sitting at the other end.
He notices me the instant I step outside. He’s wearing sunglasses as well, but I would swear that I could feel his eyes meet mine behind them. I watch him, admittedly feeling a little breathless when his lips curve into a smile and he rises and makes his way to me.
I can’t help but admire him—again—as he walks in his lazy lion-like way. He’s wearing swim trunks in aqua, two or three shades darker than his eyes, and a white shirt, unbuttoned to reveal his wide chest and rippling abdominals. His hair is mussed from the wind and his square jaw is covered in a day’s worth of stubble. As amazing as he was as a young man, this Reese makes the younger one look pathetic. He is nothing short of physical perfection now.