Docked (23 page)

I better start getting used to it.

My phone blips when I reach our cabin, alerting me to a text from Tanner.

Miss Banks, I’m sorry for my temper earlier. I was very rude. Meet me tonight, please. My place. Sunset.

I open the door, slumping back against it as soon as it closes behind me. I stare at the phone. Seconds pass before I decide to respond.

Okay. I’ll be there.

My eyes close and I groan, then push myself off the door and head straight for the bed, where I fall face first and collapse into a troubled rest.

***

My phone’s chime awakens me, and my eyes drift open, landing on the cabin’s porthole window. A dreamy, orange haze is cast over the ocean, and I register the time of day. I sit up in a daze, fumbling around for my phone. Did I really fall asleep? How did I sleep for so long? It’s nearly sundown. I locate my phone and find a new text from Tanner.

Are you still coming?

I rub my eyes and yawn, swinging my legs off the side of the bed.

Yes. Took a nap. On my way now.

It takes me only a few minutes to wash up and bring some color back to my cheeks. My nerves are strung tightly as I make my way to Tanner’s place, and I realize that while my nap might have shut my brain down for a little while, it did nothing to resolve the uncertainty that’s been tumbling around since I left Tanner’s office earlier.

When I arrive at his cabin, I quietly let myself in, assuming he’ll be waiting for me in the bedroom. Maybe he has more aggression to work out of his system. Maybe he wants to play gentle, dominant lover and spoil my body rotten the way he did the first night I slept with him. Whatever he’s in the mood for, I know he will show me with his body just what he’s feeling, and right now, I want to give him whatever he needs. This might very well be the last time I have my hands on him, and I want to make it count.

I find him there, stationed in front of the living room windows, his back to me. His hands are in his pockets, feet splayed wide and body steeled as if he needs to root himself to the ground. As if anything could move him. He’s an anchor, unyielding and strong—strong as the pounding in my chest when I lay eyes on him. His blonde hair rustles as his fingers comb it, and his head shifts to the right, chin tilting down, the movement so feather light I almost miss it. All I catch is a single flash of the deep cerulean of his gaze, a glimpse of his appraisal of the ocean view before him, and the hard edge of his jaw, golden skin glinting under the late afternoon sun. It’s raining in on him, penetrating the entire room.

But that single glance is enough.

It tells me he doesn’t just love the ocean, he owns it. Tanner Christensen, Poseidon. King with his trident.

God of the sea.

“I’m glad you came,” he says quietly.

“I’m a woman of my word.”

“Yes. Yes, you are.”

I don’t move.

“I hope you’ll accept my apology for earlier, Miss Banks.”

“Anya.”

“Anya.”

“You were upset. I understand.”

“Do you?” He turns, lifting his chin.

“Yes.” I take a step forward. “What would you like to do to me now that I’m here?”

A surprised smirk lightens his face. “I believe I’ve turned you into quite the vixen.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Tanner.”

“But I’m so good at it.”

“Yes, you are.”

“In the very least, I hope our arrangement has made you braver. Bolder. So you can tell the next man exactly how to please you.” He matches my step forward, inching closer. “You will no longer settle for boys, Miss Banks. Promise me that.”

“You’re really too in love with yourself.”

“Would you want me any other way?”

“No.” My eyes burn. My God, the man is so fucking gorgeous, standing there in the glazed, golden sunlight. If he ever decides to commit to a woman someday, she will truly be one lucky, envied girl. “I like you the way you are.”

“Come here.” He stands still, holding my gaze with smoldering, heated irises. I walk toward him, stopping when the tips of my shoes meet his. I lift my chin, expecting his mouth to tilt down and touch mine, but he simply drops his head and presses his cheek to mine, speaking softly against my ear. “Our twelve days are almost up.”

“I know.”

“Have I satisfied you?”

“Immensely.” I exhale, leaning into his cheek. “I am wondering something.”

“Oh?” His jaw muscles lock up against my skin, and I pull back to peer up at him.

“Maybe we should call it quits. Now, I mean. Before we dock on Saturday.”

A peculiar flash of panic strikes his handsome face. “Why do you suggest that?”

“Because of what happened earlier,” I say carefully, lifting a hand to rest on his forearm. “I’m afraid we’ve crossed some sort of line.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve involved me in your business. And you’re right, it’s not mine, it’s yours. I think we’ve been fooling ourselves, thinking I can interview you and fuck you at the same time—that the combination won’t complicate things.”

“We had an arrangement.”

“Yes, we did.”

“I think it’s been working just fine.”

“Well, after our discussion earlier, I…I’m not sure I feel the same.”

Tanner steps back to study me. “Have I really offended you so deeply, Miss Banks? I apologized for my behavior earlier. What more can I do?”

“No,” I reach for his hand, “it’s not that.”

“Please clarify it for me, then. Because I’m not sure I understand you.” His gaze is hard and cautious, shoulders suddenly tense. Lana’s words come rushing at me, and I want to swallow them down, want to shove them somewhere where they cannot escape, but they tickle my tongue and I find myself giving in to their teasing.

“I’m beginning to feel invested.”

“Invested,” he repeats, still studying me.

“Yes, invested.”

My words seem to sink in and realization settles over his face, his eyes widening slightly as the implication takes root. “I see.”

“I’ve had a fantastic time with you, Tanner.” My hand rises, cupping his cheek, and I lean up to plant a soft kiss on his lips. I breathe against them, absorbing the heat of his torso, brushing gently against him. “Take me to your bedroom,” I whisper. “One last time?”

His hands move to my hips and I feel him harden against me. “It doesn’t have to be the last time.”

“It doesn’t, but it should be.”

“You’re sure you want to cut this short?” His lashes fan down and he watches me carefully.

“I think it’s best.”

He eyes me for a moment more and then swiftly lifts me up. His mouth hits my throat and he carries me into the bedroom, granting my wish. As he lays me down onto the bed, playing the gentle, dominant lover I imagined, I memorize each angle of his face, the dips of his hips and the ways his hands turn my skin to embers. I study every line on his abdomen, each inch of definition along his shoulders and neck. I want to remember him just like this, hovering over me. I want to remember him, Tanner Christensen, God of the sea, and me just like this, beneath him and at his mercy. His goddess, his plaything.

His lover.

ELEVEN

“Why don’t you go say goodbye to him?” Lana asks, placing the last of her belongings in her purse, while Brie sits on the bed next to her, watching me with bated breath.

She agrees, piping in with a desperation that almost makes me second guess myself and my decision to cut my arrangement with Tanner short. “Yeah, Anya, why not? It can’t hurt to just swing by his office and say goodbye before we leave. It sounds like you two had something really good going.”

I ignore their inquisition and walk toward the cabin door, ready to get off this ship. Over the past twelve days, I’ve had girl time, me time, time to face the accident that threatened to steal a part of me, and time to experiment sexually with a man who turned out to be more than just a fling. Tanner Christensen was a seasoned, passionate businessman—even if he did hate the reason for resuming ownership of the Trident Voyager—and a dedicated, confident man with a sense of humor and laughable organizational skills.

His fierce, dominant personality and playful nature sneaked in through the cracks of my rigid walls during the past twelve days, reminding me there is, in fact, life after accidents, unfortunate tragedies, and inept, stupid boyfriends. Over the course of this cruise, my eyes have not only been opened to these truths, but I’ve also been enlightened by the fact that what he insisted I learn is indeed right. I do deserve a man, and I am definitely selling myself short by settling for a boy who is simply
considerate
.

When I return home, there will be no more Jeremiahs. No more wasting time, no more games. Only straightforward, rewarding, satisfying relationships that are fair and honest from the get-go. To settle for anything less would be to take a giant leap backward. I might even get in touch with Jonah, although the ball is really in his court, not mine.

“Some things are better left alone, girls,” I say, fishing my room key from my pocket. “It was fun while it lasted. You have your key, Lan?”

“Yeah,” Lana sighs, looking around the cabin wistfully. Brie stands to join her and they both burst out into faux hysterics, latching onto one another. They hug and blubber, and I laugh to myself at their dramatics.

“You guys, we live like a few hours away from one another. We’ll see each other all the time.” I couldn’t be more grateful that Brie lives in Fort Lauderdale. She’s really become a good friend to Lana, and I love seeing how well they hit it off. The two of them together makes me smile, and things would just feel incomplete without the new trio Brie has cemented.

“I know,” Brie cries, “but the end of a girl vacation is just so sad!”

“Let’s do another one,” Lana insists, pulling back to squeeze Brie’s shoulders. She looks to me for support, and I smile warmly, nodding my head.

“Yes!” Brie jumps and claps. “Another cruise. And next time, no guy drama.” She eyes me and I raise my hands innocently. “Just quality girl time, and nothing else.”

“Um, aren’t you forgetting something?” My brows rise.

Lana pinches her shoulder. “Hello? Carbs, woman! Carbs!”

“God, you guys,” Brie’s nose scrunches and she rubs at her shoulder, “I didn’t mean to leave out the most essential part of our friendship. Food is like the holy Mecca of our bond! You need to learn to not take things so literally.
Sheesh
!”

“We’ll miss you, Bree-Bree,” Lana pouts and wraps her into another big hug.

Bree-Bree? Oh, dear God. Where does Lana come up with this shit?

I watch them squeeze the breath out of each other and find myself suddenly caught up in their mushy display. I scuttle forward and body slam them, joining in the group hug, throwing my arms around them and pressing my cheek against Lana’s back.

“Awww, you guys,” I laugh, squeezing them tightly. “Don’t make me cry ugly, now.”

We all sigh and release one another, ready to head out the door. Brie and Lana jabber on about the highlights of the cruise as I lead the way off the ship, pushing the lingering thoughts of Tanner to the deepest recesses of my brain. I know it’s over, but I can’t help but wonder if the girls are right. If I should go and say one last goodbye to the man I believe I owe some sort of thanks to, for waking me up, helping me to see things from a different perspective.

I decide the gesture would be overkill, especially since I’ve already admitted to him and to myself that sometime during the past twelve days, I’ve become emotionally invested. I don’t want to make matters any worse.

Once my resolve hardens, I turn my focus to work. “I can’t wait to write this review, Lan,” I say as we disembark. Port Canaveral awaits us, sunny and warm as usual, and I can’t help but glance back a few times at the beautiful Trident Voyager, wanting to commit the image of its vast majesty to memory. Now, every time I look at it, I see Tanner’s silhouette. Strong and sleek, confident and overbearing, just like his words and mouth in bed. Just like the way his hands direct my body, telling me exactly how to please him, and how to best please myself.

“Ted wants it by Wednesday,” Lana replies, trading her debarkation tag for her suitcase at the bottom of the gangplank. When we reach the terminal, it feels as if the very essence of everything we experienced aboard has been left behind. Here we go, back to the real world, where sexy, cruise-ship-owning billionaires with skilled tongues no longer exist, where passionate nights of wild abandon in penthouse cabins are no longer a part of a girl’s daily routine.

How sad.

“Do you think he’ll give me an extension until Friday? There are still a few things I want to jot down to make sure the piece is solid.”

“I don’t know, you know how Ted can be. He’s a stickler with deadlines. Let’s feel him out tomorrow and see where he stands. Just try to have the first draft to me by tomorrow at midnight. The story is on the schedule for next month’s edition, so he’ll likely hold you to that Wednesday midnight deadline.”