Hooked (10 page)

"Of course," I answered him.

"After that I'd be happy to show you the sea deck. It's one of my favorite parts of the boat." He glanced over at Richard who was suddenly very busy with the instrument panel.

"I'll get started on the sandwich," I said as I headed out the door.

Grateful as I was to be back in the kitchen, my nerves were jagged. His effect on me was like looking over a cliff. Vertigo with none of the usual prompts. The ground beneath my feet felt pillowy; as if any minute I'd tip right over into the abyss.

Mechanically, I built an Italian sub on some ciabatta bread. His teeth looked as if they'd appreciate a workout.

Dammit, it
wasn't
my imagination. Granted, I've been known to concoct an entire fantasy affair, but not this time. He was the one who pressed the issue. His interest in my opinion of him seemed real enough. He didn't owe me any attention and he certainly didn't need my female companionship when he had two babe-alicious guests to entertain him. That thought sent me right into my room to check on the pool deck.

Sure enough, he was standing over the two naked bodies casting a long shadow over pert breasts and shaved pussies. They both flashed him satisfied Rembrandt smiles. He bent over, looked straight at my port hole and waved. I snapped the curtain shut and plopped onto my bed. Owned again.

Minutes later I got to face my humiliation and serve up his snack. I hadn't taken the time to change out of my shorts and the way he watched me as I walked through the room made me feel as naked as the two girls on deck. Only there was no comparison to be made between their ten foot legs and my pitiful sticks. Model types have always made me feel that the word 'petite' is just a polite way of saying stunted.

"Would you like something to drink?" "
Why did you have to put a shirt on?"

"Just some water. You remember the one I drink?"

"
No, I don't remember exactly, precisely, without a shadow of doubt which green bottle you were holding next to your naked body last night."
I couldn't exactly express that thought so I simply nodded. I could locate the exact position of the water by picturing the position of his naked ass. That would have to do.

"I thought you might not have noticed." He poked at his plate and threw a downright Satanic smile at me. The man seemed to delight in seeing me squirm. I turned away to go and get the water but he stopped me with a "wait a minute".

"Yes?"

"Can you tell me what's on this sandwich?"

I rattled off the ingredients. Halfway through I realized my mistake.

"Most of what you've just listed is full of poison. Didn't Richard tell you about my preferences?"

I grabbed the offending plate out from under his gaze. "I am soooo sorry. I stocked the lunch meats for the crew and just completely forgot you don't eat this stuff."

"Because this stuff is crap unfit for human consumption."

"I'll get you something else."

"Lara, is it going to be too difficult for you to remember the dietary needs of the one and only person on this boat whose opinion counts?" He was cold and condescending. The smile was gone and the playful mood was dead. The whole spiel about not being the boss had obviously been something engineered to catch me off guard. Whether Daddy owned the boat or Morgan owned the boat was pretty irrelevant. He was the little prince.

All the same, I felt terrible. It was my job to feed him what he wanted to eat. I wanted to please him not just with my professionalism. I wanted to bring him pleasure with my food. Truthfully, I just wanted to please him, but food was my path of least resistance.

He tented his fingers in front of his mouth, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Finally he said, "Do you have any natural peanut butter?" I nodded. "Any bananas?" I nodded again. "Do you think you can manage a peanut butter and banana sandwich?" The tone was mock sadness with a touch of martyr.

His patronizing 'tude was starting to piss me off.  I made a mistake. You'd think it was the end of the world. Bologna as a murder weapon.

No wonder he worked his way through three chefs in the space of a year. The man
was
a spoiled brat. A beautiful spoiled brat, but still.

"I suppose you are going to add this little sandwich incident to your catalog of my faults," he said as he took his first bite.

"I don't keep an inventory. It's not my job."

"But you certainly have an opinion, don't you? And one that sure isn't real positive."

"Look, Mr. Wolf, you pushed and I answered you."

"Please, call me Morgan and have a seat." He picked up the untouched half of his sandwich. "Care to share this with me?"

God, the man was a complete schizoid. One minute he was a complete ass and the next he was giving me the 'aren't I cute' vibe. I cut a quarter of the sandwich off and took a bite, just to be sociable.

"Without getting into gory details you don't want to know, Lara, my health is very important to me. I wasn't very  . . .
robust
as a kid and I guess I want to enjoy myself now that I'm past all that."

"I understand."

"No, you probably don't. But for now, just accept it."

What I accepted at that moment was that under the table his knee was giving off heat an inch or so from mine. It knocked rational right out the window. His nearness had a surreal effect on me unlike anything I'd ever felt before. He
possessed
the space between us and made it shrink. He touched me without contact and made me forget anything but the closeness of his body to mine and how much closer I wanted him to be. Inside of me close.

He pushed back from the table and stood. God, how I have always loved a tall man. Rachel once asked me why a shorty like me had a thing for "righteously towering dudes". I could only answer that a big man made me feel very feminine. And that's exactly what I felt like looking up a mile into Morgan's gorgeous strong face. I felt the snag of my sex whispering desire into my head. In spite of all the reasons not to want him, he had my horns growing every minute I was with him.

"Stop. No, don't."

"Fuck it."

"Fuck him."

"I told you I'd give you a tour of the sea deck. Let me show you my toys."

I thought about the two stacked blond toys and almost bagged the tour. Living dolls certainly qualify as 'toys'.
Curiosity and pheromones overrode the wave of
yuck
that washed over me. I wanted to be near him and stay near him.

He ushered me into the glass elevator near the far end of the salon. His hand barely grazed the small of my back but it was enough to make my nipples clench and send a tingle down to pussy command and control. The man did things to me. He occupied me. The vapor of his nearness seeped into my pores.

"Here's my favorite playroom," he said as the doors opened to reveal a line of jet skis along one wall and a sport fishing boat on a lift at the other. "Well," he added, "Make that one of my favorite playrooms." The leer he raked over my body left no doubt about where else he liked to play.

"Would another one be the pool deck?"

"You seem to take a real interest in my activities there."

"Kind of hard not to see what goes on right above my bed."

"And just what did you see?"

"A pretty little threesome."

"Did you happen to watch long enough to see me leave?"

The conversation was making me very uncomfortable. "Can we change the subject? Tell me about this pool. Is it a seaport?"

"Yes. But back to this morning."

"Must we?"

"There's something you should know."

"Honestly, I know too much already."

He stepped closer to me and sucked the air out of the vast room. I felt my punctured will deflate like a three day old balloon.

Chapter 10--Morgan

"Nothing happened at the pool." I didn't have a clue as to why I wanted her to know.

"It's none of my business."

She'd gotten to me. In the short space of a couple of days, I'd made the surprising discover that her opinion mattered to me. Suddenly being a man-whore didn't sound cool, it sounded creepy. I knew she was attracted to me but I wanted more than that. I wanted her to
like
me. That was a brand new feeling for me, at least as a healthy adult. And I didn't have time to dissect or analyze it. The moment was now.

"I'm serious. Nothing happened."

"I guess you and I have entirely different definitions of 'nothing'. But again, why should I care?" She had to tilt her head way back to look up at me. Her child-like height was a lie. There was womanly defiance in her gaze and a stubborn set to her mouth that told me she was anything but convinced. The importance of making her understand something I didn't yet understand myself battled with the urge to kiss that willful look off that angel face.

I backed her into the wall and trapped her with my arms at her shoulders. "You should care because you want me. And I want you. We could have a lot of fun crossing the ocean together." Bad choice of words
. Fun
wasn't the tone I wanted at all.

"You really are unbelievably stuck on yourself, aren't you?"

It was a retort I deserved.

"Are you telling me you don't want me?" I leaned into her and brought my knee up between her legs. She immediately ducked under my arm and moved beyond my reach.

"I want a lot of things. I want puppies and unicorns and a brand new BMW parked in the garage of my cottage on the beach. I want to be five-foot ten and have a rack like Beyonce."

"Other than the unicorns and the height requirement, those things can be bought." Not that I was in any position to buy them for her. Only Richard knew the arrangement I had made with my dickhead dad. I had the boat to live on, expenses paid and enough cash so that I wasn't an embarrassment to him, but about the only thing I could afford on her list was the fucking puppy. And only if she wanted one from the pound. I had carte blanche for anything remotely related to the boat. Lures were fine. Puppies and BMW's not so much.

I was going to London to see if my exalted father finally found me worthy of inclusion in the family business. By now I hoped he was convinced I didn't carry my mother's special strain of madness. It was time for me to work at something more demanding than being a glorified housekeeper for a yacht.

"But
I
can't be bought." Lara started for the elevator and I caught her wrist in my hand. I could feel her pulse racing when I pulled her around to face me. The beat of her heart on her wrist felt like a captured bird.

"I don't want to buy you. I want to
know
you." I brought her close enough to smell her. Her scent was a mixture of fresh baked bread and faint floral shampoo. So feminine it made my balls ache to empty themselves inside her. "I want to know what it's like to talk to someone who thinks about more than where the next party is."

"Somehow I thought you had more than talking in mind."

"I admit I do. Is that so terrible? Even if you won't say it, I will." I pressed my hips against her flat belly. I wanted her to feel my stiffening cock grow against her. "Can I make you laugh? Can I make you sigh? Can I make you beg me to do all the things a man can do to a woman?"

Her mouth opened into a rosebud 'o' but she said nothing. Those feline eyes gleamed with a golden brilliance that made me know I was lost. Or found. I was having a very hard time saying what I wanted to say. There was an element of crazy in what she did to me. She was nothing I'd ever wanted and all that I ever needed. The surprise of her left me speechless.

When I spoke with a kiss, I willed it to be a different sort of kiss. I wanted her to feel something unrehearsed. To kiss her with fierce honesty that demanded nothing less in return. Half expecting her to wiggle away, I drew her tighter into my body as our mouths met. When her breasts pressed into me the warmth of her soft flesh lit two circles of fire on my skin.

Her lips welcomed me just long enough for me to taste her. Then she put her delicate hands against my chest and shoved me hard. I had to catch the rail at the edge of the seaport's pool to stay on my feet.

"What the fucking hell do you think you're doing?" The edge in her voice was as sharp as one of her knives.

"It's known as a kiss."

"I know what it is. Have I given you any reason to think you can just force yourself on me?"

"I had no intention of forcing anything on you. You were giving off all the right signals."

"I'm sorry,
Mister
Wolf, but I think you flunked the class in female semaphore. I have a feeling that the simple fact of being a woman is signal enough for you."

"You said I was 'hot as hell'! You said I had 'perfect bones'." I didn't mean for it to sound whiney, but it came out that way.

"Did you miss everything else I said? Did you miss the part where I called you a spoiled brat? And a player?"

"I was hoping I could change your mind."

"With the mind-blowing awesomeness of your kisses? I think not. I told you I can't be bought. And working for you as a 'cook' doesn't mean you own me either."

"Forgive me for thinking you might be attracted to me."

"I
am
attracted to you. Who wouldn't be? But being shallow isn't one of my many issues. I'm also repulsed."

"Isn't that a tad strong? I've been called a lot of things but never repulsive." That hurt. I turned my back to her and studied the sway of the water in front of me.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that." Her voice pillowed down to a softer tone. "It's just that you're . . . you're just not my type."

"What 'type' am I?" I said without turning to look at her.

"You belong with the girls up on deck. They understand your world. I don't." She touched my arm tentatively. "Can I be honest with you?"

"Please." I was hoping I'd be able to handle another dose of her honesty.

Lara leaned against the rail she'd pushed me into and followed my gaze toward the water. "I've made some amazingly crappy choices when it comes to men. It's almost as though I'm drawn to guys who couldn't be worse matches for me. So, it's like a red flag when I meet someone . . . someone who . . . " I barely turned my head toward her but it was enough to see how flustered she was.