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Her voice jolted him out of his filthy vision, and he turned back to her with a shake of his head. A flustered laugh escaped his lips. “My apologies. I didn’t hear what you asked,” he told her and reached for the bundle of clothes in her hand, hoping his hard-on wasn’t too obvious. “Do you want to rinse these?”
“Yes, I do.” She nodded with another sweet smile, which he returned, resisting the urge to look down the perfect valley between her breasts. His mouth watered at the thought of the salty taste there, the sweet slide to the heat between her thighs. He knew she’d be like honey, hot and sweet. He’d eat her cunt while he lifted his own ass in the air for Cam’s mouth…for his cock. That particular vision almost made him groan. “I asked if you were Argentino. You didn’t hear me,” she added, once again pulling him out of his reckless fantasies.
He grimaced at her amused expression. She might not know exactly what he was thinking, but she suspected what the subject matter was. “There’s some rainwater for washing up, belowdecks in a barrel. I can get you some to at least get the grime out.”
“Thank you,” she whispered in that sensual rasp she had.
He had to adjust himself just to give his cock some relief. But when she kept looking at him expectantly, he remembered she’d asked him another question. “Yes, I am. Argentinian, that is. Naci en Buenos Aires, pero mi madre es Italiana,” he explained, and her eyes brightened with interest. “We went to live with my uncle in New Jersey when I was a teenager.” He reverted to English, Spanish feeling a bit awkward on his tongue. These days he only got to practice when his uncle sent him on jobs to New York.
In Atlantic City he rarely spoke Spanish, and at home, his mother preferred her native Sicilian. But until he was thirteen years old, Spanish had been his primary tongue. Practically as soon as he could walk, to escape his father’s violence at home, he’d run into the streets of Buenos Aires. Until that night when two men came to their house, slit his father’s throat while he slept off another drunken stupor on the couch, and spirited Enzo, his two sisters, and their mother away on a ship to New York.
“Te gusta New Jersey?” She was probably just making small talk, asking him if he liked Jersey; she didn’t know this question was a lot easier to answer than it had been a year ago.
He owed his uncle his own life, plus his mother’s and his two sisters’ lives. But he wanted something different than the family’s schemes. He wanted out of being beholden to his uncle. Enzo had been making his escape plan for a while, and he’d finally closed the debt six months ago, when he took two bullets in the arm for his uncle. He’d cashed in the favor the week before getting on the Delilah with Camden.
“Me gusta mas Nueva York,” he admitted, and she smiled. “Why do you want to go there?”
They were leaning against the outside of the hutch, so they were half-hidden from Cam’s view, but Enzo could almost feel the heat of the man’s stare. He leaned in and tucked a flyaway curl behind her ear. She pressed closer, enough that her bare knees brushed against his legs. He ached for her, to feel her in his arms.
“I’m a singer. I want to perform at a jazz club,” she finally revealed to him. Her eyes lit up when she said it. He could see it. She had a vulnerability and mystery about her that could be electric on a stage.
“I bet you sound swell,” he said sincerely, and those big brown eyes shone at the praise. “I’d love to hear you.”
She grinned big and looked up at him with naked excitement. “There are a few Gardel songs I do well.”
He smiled at her mention of the popular Argentinian tango singer. More images assaulted his mind, this time, of Rosalía onstage dressed in silver and gold, a diamond headband on her forehead as he and Cam watched her sing for an enraptured crowd at their club.
“Let’s go below. I’ll help you with these,” he told her. She nodded, but seemed a little disappointed that he didn’t take her up on her offer to sing for him. Lusty heat pierced him wondering how much of a show she’d like to put on. She turned suddenly, her attention snagged on something behind him. The worried frown on her face told him what she was looking at. “Don’t pay any attention to Cam. He’s a moody bastard.”
She bit her lip invitingly, and her brow furrowed with worry.
“He said I have to get off in Nassau,” she whispered, her mouth grazing the side of Enzo’s face. The wind whipped her hair around, and it brushed against his cheek. She smelled like the Lifebuoy soap Cam kept on the boat and faintly of something sweeter. He almost shook with need at the thought of running his tongue over her earlobe, over her pussy, which was probably still sore from Cam’s cock.
“Let’s get you to the galley so you can rinse this,” he insisted, unwilling to discuss her destination until they were somewhere more private. He helped her down the hatch, and before he went below, he glanced up at Cam, who was standing tall at the helm, shirtless, with his black hair now tied back in a queue. Enzo’s body reacted to that sight as strongly as it had to Rosalía’s curves.
He needed to get a hold of himself, or better yet, he needed to find out if those looks this sweet girl had been sending him were the real thing.
“It’s so spacious down here,” Rosalía commended, looking around. It was always darker belowdecks, but unlike the night before, the sunlight streamed in through the circular windows.
“Cam’s a bastard, but he makes it comfortable for his crew,” he admitted grudgingly. He’d overheard Rolly say once that Cam had personally redone most of the interior of the schooner with his own hands after getting back from the war. Big Joe made a joke once that Cam had been in school for nautical engineering before he’d gone off to the war, only to end up running rum. Enzo always wondered why Cam hadn’t returned to his education after coming home. But it wasn’t like he could ever ask, the man acted like Enzo’s entire existence was a direct offense to his person.
“Back here.” Enzo guided Rosalía. They were walking close enough together that his front brushed against her back. He tried to not push his hard cock onto her, but when the ship swayed, he stumbled forward. She yelped in surprise at the sudden jolt, and he wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her. “Easy, I got you, love,” he murmured in her ear. She stiffened for a second, obviously feeling his erection wedged between the cheeks of her round bottom. He thought she’d pull back, but she pressed into him instead. Her derriere brushed against his aching prick, and he was helpless to hold back a hiss. “Careful with that, belleza,” he teased. “It’s got a mind of its own.”
She made a lusty little sound and circled that ripe peach of an ass right on his cock again. “Maybe I’m curious to see what he’s got in mind,” she whispered, sending him a sultry look over her shoulder. He wasn’t an idiot—he knew this was probably the girl’s ploy to try and stay on the boat. But when she looked down at his hard cock, she licked her lips in a way that had him almost panting.
“Cam will be pissed,” he told her, even as he pushed into that delicious grind.
“He doesn’t own me,” she said defiantly, which only made Enzo that much hotter.
“He might catch us, you know?” he warned, as he inched a hand up her front and stopped right under her breasts.
“I don’t care,” she declared, still pressing that lush behind on his erection.
“If you keep this up, I might have to lift your skirt and see if you’re wet for me.”
“Maybe you should,” she told him, widening a pair of shapely legs and arching her back. He leaned in and kissed the spot between her shoulder blades, and she shivered for him. They were alone down here. Rolly and Butter were both manning the sails, and the rest of the hands were above deck. Enzo was supposed to be doing an inventory of the rum they’d gotten off Valverde’s yacht, but Cam didn’t own him either.
“I like this dress,” he mouthed against her shoulders between peppering kisses on her warm skin. He tugged on the thin straps until they fell off her body, giving him a better view of those big breasts.
