Full Steam Ahead (Sea Swept #1) (15 page)

What does she think of me now?

I sink into one of the hot tubs and shake my head. Georgia was just so easy to talk to, and she finally opened up to me about the whole thing with Hunter and her family. For once, I felt comfortable sharing my past with someone.

But telling Georgia about my life only seems to underscore the very different backgrounds we come from. The Cantwells might be broke now, but Georgia was raised on country club memberships and whatever tech gadget she needed to impress people. Meanwhile, I spent my childhood learning how to argue with electric company reps to get the account turned back on without a late fee.

Chill out
, I tell myself, and try to let the warm water soak my annoying uncertainty away. So what if our families are from opposite sides of the tracks?
 

“Hey, you want a margarita, bro? Hunter’s buying this round,” Dan asks me. I hesitate because I don’t want to freeload off of Hunter, but Dan is already turning away. “Never mind, I’ll get a pitcher and cups for everyone!”

Well, hey. I’m not going to thumb my nose at free booze. I lean back against the tub, wondering when Georgia will arrive. The hot tub is filling up. I stretch out my arms and legs to take up more space than I need, so that Georgia will have plenty of room to squeeze in when she gets here. Hopefully soon.
 

The two hot tubs are shaped like kidneys, facing each other. The one I’m sitting in is already crammed with Baxter students, plus a scattering of new friends we met on the ship. Yasmin’s bartender guy, for instance, sits next to her on the opposite side of my hot tub. He keeps checking his watch, saying he has to go to work in half an hour, but I have no doubt he’ll be late with the way Yasmin is cuddled up next to him.
 

“Here you go, man.” Dan hands a margarita-filled cup to me, breaking me out of my thoughts.
 

“Thanks. So how was the beach?”
 

He groans. “Parker mostly ignored me for some guy from Maine.” As he rattles on about his plans to win her attention back, I can’t help but scan the deck, searching for that familiar pair of blue eyes and tempting lips. I drum my fingers against the hot tub wall, impatient to see Georgia even though we spent the day together.
 

“So what did you do all day?” says Dan. “Didn’t you go on a hike or something?”

“Yeah, to the Mayan ruins.”
 

“Trust you to pick the most boring excursion. I bet none of the girls at the ruins wore a bikini, right?”

I laugh with him and admit that no, no one on the excursion wore a swimsuit. I don’t mention how cute and sexy Georgia had looked with her hair curling damply around her neck, her tank top clinging to her in a way that made it hard to focus on the ancient stones. Maybe it wasn’t the most relaxing of excursions, but she’d seemed to have a good time. I remember the look in her eyes, shy but excited, when she called the ruins art.
 

Hunter walks past the hot tub with a glass of bourbon in hand. Probably top shelf, not the stuff I can afford. I can’t help but frown at Hunter, who wears his wealth like a t-shirt—casually. He has the best room on the ship, but I can’t even resent him for it because he’s so easygoing and … well, nice. Like right now, he doesn’t hold off on buying drinks for his friends to get the party started, even if the gesture costs one of my monthly paychecks. All for one round of booze.
 

Still, I have a hard time understanding why Georgia was set on marrying him. He’s so wrong for her. Except for the money, of course. But Hunter is a moron if he gave her up just because he found out her family was broke. After all, the Fairbanks could probably swallow a six-figure debt without more than a wince. That’s the part that I don’t get. If Hunter doesn’t mind shelling out a few hundred bucks to buy everyone drinks, why would he care if his girlfriend had financial issues? It seems odd …

Then my brain goes blank, and I can’t even remember what I was thinking about, because the hottest creature I have ever seen is walking toward the hot tub. My gaze lingers on her long legs and that tiny red bikini bottom, barely more than a scrap of crimson fabric with ties across the hips. My eyes trail up over the small waist to the breasts covered by their own tiny red scraps, and then I realize who it is.

Holy hell, Georgia Cantwell, you’re going to kill me. I am half hard already, especially since her gaze is fixed on mine. Georgia’s mouth curves up in a shy smile.
 

Yasmin sees her and jumps up from her seat. “You wore my present! Do you like it?”
 

“I love it,” Georgia answers. Is it me, or is her voice huskier than usual? “Thanks, Yas. Oh, I put my stuff on your lounge chair with your bag, is that okay?”

“Of course. Here, we’ll make some room for you.” Yasmin nudges her bartender friend with her knee. He scoots over, but keeps staring at Georgia’s chest. I frown. A part of me totally understands how he feels, but another part of me wants to clock him in the jaw.

Georgia glances my way and shakes her head. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I don’t want to squish you guys. I see a spot over there.” She steps around the hot tub on those long legs of hers, and I can’t help but think about them wrapped around my hips. She walks over to my side of the hot tub and kicks off her flip-flops. I guess I didn’t scare her off earlier with my family’s past, because she climbs right on in beside me, her legs brushing up against mine as she gets situated.
 

“Haven’t seen that swimsuit before,” I comment.

She flashes me a knowing smile. “Like it?”

“It’s a little prim, don’t you think?” That makes her laugh, which is a sound I’ve heard a couple times today, but before that hadn’t heard in … a while. I hadn’t realized I paid attention to when Georgia Cantwell laughs or smiles, but over the past few months, she hadn’t done it very much. I’d always wondered why, and why Hunter didn’t seem to notice. Georgia’s laughter is a sound I’d like to hear often. Every day.

I’m about to tease Georgia to see if I can make her laugh again when Jessica, one of her sorority sisters, hands her a margarita and asks her how she did on their communications final. They talk shop for a while; I try to interject a few times, but Jessica keeps yammering about how unfair some of the essay questions were. Georgia listens politely, sipping her margarita, but I can tell she’s not really into the conversation from the way she throws me a glance every minute or so.
 

Well, if she wants a distraction, who am I to disappoint?

Pasting an innocent expression on my face, I put my hand on her knee under the bubbling surface. The hot tub’s powerful jets make it impossible to see anything below the water, which is perfect. No one sees when Georgia’s leg jumps at my touch.

“Yeah, I thought essay four was really hard,” Georgia says to Jessica. Her voice is so unruffled that I slide my fingers two inches up her thigh. Her skin feels like wet satin, and her muscles tense. I grin to myself, sip my margarita, and with my submerged hand go higher. Georgia doesn’t stop me, or appear to react in any way, though her face has a strained look, as if she’s holding her breath. I edge my way higher over her smooth skin until I’m nearly at the line of her bikini. God, I wish we were alone.
 

“Do you think Professor Belgraves will grade us on a curve?” Jessica asks. “I really need at least a B on that final.”
 

“Um, I don’t know.” Georgia’s breaths have grown a little heavier, although Jessica doesn’t seem to notice. “I’m just glad the class is over.”
 

“I know, right?” Jessica slurps margarita slush through a straw. “Hey, you tried the rock-climbing course yet? It’s up on the Sports Deck.”

“It looks fun,” I say, trying hard not to look at Georgia as my fingers graze her bikini bottom, right at the juncture of her thighs. She jumps, and I start sliding my hand back toward her knee. I finally glance over at her. “Don’t you think?”

Georgia’s arm brushes mine. I think she’s going to push me away, but then I feel her touch on my leg. Her hand is nowhere near my knee. In fact, it’s already toying with the bottom edge of my swim trunks. And moving upward. Rapidly.

“I think we’ve tackled enough rocks for one trip.” Georgia shoots me a wicked hint of a smile. As her fingers move up over my inner thigh, she looks back over at Jessica. “Hey, great job at the mini-golf tournament yesterday. I heard you were four under par!”
 

I can’t move, can’t think of anything but Georgia’s slim fingers on my leg, moving closer to … she touches me, and even though it’s through a layer of fabric, I’m barely able to bite back a groan.

Georgia, meanwhile, is chatting about mini-golf, acting for all the world as if her hand isn’t driving me slowly and sweetly mad. I lean my head back to stare at the stars and try not to react as her fingers curl around me. Holy God in Texas heaven. She’s still outside of my swim shorts, but I’m losing the willpower not to drag her back to our room this second.
 

Even as I’m fighting the delicious torture, a smile lifts my lips, and I bring my head back up. The heat from the hot tub has started to curl Georgia’s long hair damply at the nape of her neck, but other than that she looks cool, calm. Polished. But not for long. I inch my fingers back up along her thigh.

Better watch out, Lady Cantwell.
 

Two can play this game.

Chapter 16

Georgia

If my mother had any idea what I was doing, she’d disown me on the spot and never speak my name again.
 

Thank goodness she’s thousands of miles away.
 

I try not to blush—if anyone knew that I was stroking Jace’s most intimate parts while chatting about a mini-golf tournament, I would honestly die—but I don’t stop either. A secret thrill rushes through my body as I feel him tighten in my hand, and all I can think about is taking him back to our room and doing all of those dirty things I whispered into his ear last night.
 

Jace’s own hand starts moving again, and I have to swallow a sigh of pleasure as his palm skims along my thigh, up toward my bikini where he’d teased me earlier. It’s a good thing Jessica is completely absorbed in detailing how she rocked the last tournament hole, a tough putt over a stream and around the curve of a sand trap. With Jace’s touch making me crazy, it’s getting hard to care about mini-golf scores.
 

I inhale as Jace’s knuckles softly brush the skin beneath my belly button. He traces the line of red fabric hidden beneath the bubbling surface of the water. My own hands pause, floating to rest on his bare thigh, as all my attention closes in on the electrifying caress of Jace’s fingers sliding across my skin. They skim down the front of my swimsuit bottom, and then they’re pressing on the part that most aches for his touch. After a moment of hesitation, I relax my legs to make room for his hand.

“Then, BOOM,” Jessica chatters on. “Right into the whale’s mouth. Two strokes, on a par-five hole.”
 

“That’s awesome,” I manage to say faintly.
 

Jace’s fingers start to move and I let out an explosive exhalation, then take a sip of my margarita as a quick cover. While the icy slush makes its way down my throat, I’m on fire underneath the water. I can’t look at Jace, but I don’t make any move to stop him either.
 

His fingers delve down, questing. Beads of sweat form on my neck. Jessica is now arguing with Parker over whether we should all go to the club later, or the musical being performed in the theater. Lost in delicious sensation, I barely hear them.
 

Jace does things with his hand that make me gasp aloud and, finally coming to my senses, I grab his wrist under the water. At that, Jace glances over at me. I stare back, wide-eyed and not sure what I want. He can’t keep doing this in front of everyone, but to make him stop might kill me.

“Hey, we’re getting more drinks,” Parker says to me. She and Jessica stand up out of the water. “Want anything?”

“I’m f-fine.” I give her what I hope passes for an innocent smile. “Thanks though.”
 

Now it’s only Jace and me on our side of the hot tub, since most of our friends are chatting or dancing by the palm-thatched bar. Yasmin’s bartender Austin has left for his shift, and she and Quinn are listening to Chloe talk about how her parents are throwing her and Pete an engagement party when we get home. A few feet away, Andy is chatting up a girl I don’t recognize, but they’re too caught up in their conversation to pay us any notice.
 

“I thought they’d never leave,” Jace murmurs.
 

I let go of his hand, then suck in a long breath as he slips a finger beneath the bottommost edge of my bikini. His touch is sure, gentle, inexorable. I think I might throb apart and melt in front of everyone, and have to bite my lip to keep from making any noise. I lean back against the hard curved edge of the hot tub and close my eyes, hoping it just looks like I’m chilling out.

Jace’s fingers get more bold, and … oh God, he’s practically inside of me. My entire focus is fixed on his touch, and the sensations that threaten to drown me as he slides one finger—

“Georgia!” It’s Yasmin’s voice that intrudes on my overheated bliss. I jerk my eyes open and try to form an innocent expression. Yasmin stands up, water sheeting down her tanned skin. “I’m going to take a dip in the pool. Want to join me?” she says.

I don’t, not for a million dollars. “Uh … maybe later?”

“How about now?” She’s smiling, but it’s her stubborn smile, and it’s clear she’s not budging from the hot tub without me. Oh God, does she know what we’re doing? Hastily I sit up, and Jace withdraws his hand.
 

As I clamber from the steaming, bubbling water Jace pretends he was doing nothing but sipping his margarita, but my gaze slips and meets his for a split-second. Is my face the color of my bikini? It certainly feels like it. I’m more than a little embarrassed about what we were up to in full, if unsuspecting, view of our friends.