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She just spent an hour looking at ten guys stripping, grunting, wiggling their asses, and thrusting their cocks at her. Of course she was aroused. It was a buffet of males. At least one of them must have struck her fancy.
Without knowing I’m doing it, a groan escapes me. There’s no more avoiding this. I have to return to our cabin. Little Delia will be waiting there, a sweet smile on her face. I’ll apologize. She’ll tell me it’s no big deal, and then we’re going to crawl into a bed that’s not even big enough for one of us.
I must have been a very bad male in a previous lifetime, because for some reason I’m being tortured in this one.
Chapter8
Delia
Should I strip off my clothing and lie on the bed in a seductive pose? Drape myself across the small desk they delivered while we were gone? Or lounge against the open door frame, my lips in a pout?
That kiss!
It still haunts me. The hard pressure of his mouth. The feel of his cock thrusting between my legs. The way he groaned when I stroked his nape.
I sit on the bed. Go to the bathroom. Come back and sit again. I unbutton my shirt to show some cleavage. Lay back on the bed. Pose, though that feels stupid.
Where’s Jarrn? I’m ready to see where this goes next. Surely after a kiss like that, we won’t go back to being just friends.
I’ve gone from being willing to let him go, accepting he’ll never want me to . . . I’m not sure where we’re going next. Kisses can lead to almost anything.
I sit up. Should I dress in something slinky? I’m wearing a simple skirt and top; I almost look schoolgirlish. Not anything worthy of the hottest guy in the Monster Venue.
After pouring through my clothing, I tug a sundress out of the tiny closet, the only “revealing” thing I own. I bolt to the miniscule bathroom and change, banging my hip on the sink and my elbow on the wall. Smoothing the dress, I stare at myself in the patch of a mirror. My hair’s up in a ponytail. Ugh. Hanging down is sexier, right? I yank out the hair band and fluff the strands, aiming for the wild look I’d read appeals to guys.
I take a deep breath, pinch my pale cheeks, and return to the room.
Jarrn isn’t here yet, but I’m sure he has after-show stuff to take care of first. He’ll be here soon and . . . Well, I don’t know what might happen next, but it can get started anytime after he arrives.
I lean against a wall and practice an easy, though flirtatious, smile. When my cheeks start to ache, I sit on the edge of the bed. What side will he want? I’ll give him the choice.
I lay back on the pillows, envisioning us here, entwined. I may be taking things farther than I should, but I can’t help it. I’ve liked him almost from the moment I met him.
A yawn slips from me. Great, sleepy is a fantastic look.
Another yawn. Maybe I should get up and drape my body across a piece of furniture. If he comes in and sees me . . .
* * *
I waketo my phone alarm and scramble to the edge of the bed. After shutting it off, I check the time. Shit. Eight in the morning? A glance around tells me that unless Jarrn slept in the bathroom or on the floor, he didn’t come home last night.
Home? I suppose it is for the next few months, but I thought we’d share it.
Should I call him on my comm?
What if he decided to take the offer of one of the many females thrusting themselves at him? No, he wouldn’t do that, not after kissing me, right?
Who was I fooling? A kiss isn’t a promise of anything, not even returning to the cabin we’re being forced to share.
I go to the bathroom and snarl at my image in the mirror. My face is red on one side where I slept on it, and my clothing’s beyond wrinkled. I’m cranky, but who can blame me?
I thought, if nothing else, we’d at least talk.
Pinching my eyes shut, I rub my chest. It hurts, but that’s how it goes. It’s time I get on with whatever life on a cruise ship has to offer.
After washing my face and doing my teeth, I comb my hair and opt to leave it down. I work on my blog, scheduling the next few releases. Finished, I exit the cabin and take the lift to the floor with the breakfast buffet. Might as well drown my sorrows in a big pot of coffee and eat a bunch of chocolate croissants. And donuts. Lots of donuts.
I step inside the double doors and a Breelagon server dressed in pants and a tropical shirt bustles over. “One for breakfast or will someone be joining you?”
