With Every Breath (Sea Swept #2) (17 page)

West crouches to spread my sarong across the sand, then pulls me down onto it with him. I sink onto the thin fabric; the damp sand beneath gives slightly under my knees. West loops an arm around my waist and spins us, a deft maneuver that leaves me breathless and looking up at the sky.

Then West’s face and shoulders fill my vision, and I pull him down to cover me and claim his mouth again. His hands slide over my hips and waist and shoulders, and I curl my arms around him.

He reaches behind my neck for my bikini ties, and I arch upward so he can get to them, plus the ones behind my back. When he pulls the fabric away I shiver, feeling the warm Caribbean breeze on my bare skin.
 

West covers one breast with his hand, and his mouth leaves mine to close over the other. His tongue makes hot, wet circles around the nipple until I gasp aloud.

Dimly, I feel him untie my bikini bottoms and toss them aside. He pauses, rising up a little to look down at me, all of me. I’m suddenly acutely conscious of being totally nude on a beach in the daytime. What if someone came across us?

“If I’m naked, you have to be naked too,” I tell him. West flicks a thumb across my nipple, and grins when I shiver.

“If you insist,” he says, and quickly divests himself of his swim trunks.
 

Laying next to me on his side, West turns my head toward him and kisses me slowly, deeply, until I can’t see straight. When his mouth leaves mine, he kisses down the underside of my breast, then keeps going across my belly, and lower still. I moan and try to pull him back up, because I don’t usually let guys get that intimate with me, but West spreads one strong hand over my ribs to hold me in place and nudges my legs open. I resist for a moment longer, then relax.

My legs part, and then West’s mouth is there, his tongue sliding into my folds. It touches my clit and I think I actually mutter a curse, but I’m not sure because I’m no longer aware of anything except what West is doing to me. His hand on my stomach slides up to my breasts, and the other caresses from the inside of my knee up the sensitive flesh of my inner thigh. I feel a finger probing, and then it slides inside, and all the while his mouth never leaves me.

I arch up, my hands making fists in the sarong underneath me. “West, please,” I say, though I don’t know what I’m asking. The tip of his tongue slips up and down my folds, and teases around my clit, stirring a delicious tension inside me. His strokes move faster and faster, and it’s all too much, his tongue and his finger hurling me closer to a precipice—and then, before I’m ready, I’m there.
 

My limbs go rigid and I come, pleasure washing over me in a buffeting wave that takes my breath and leaves me gasping.

West withdraws his hand as he moves over me, his weight welcome because I feel like I might float away. He pauses to grab a condom from his camera bag and roll it on, then draws my legs farther apart and settles between them. I sigh in bliss as he enters me, inch by slow inch. Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I push my hips up as he bears down, filling me completely.

Soon we’re moving together, our breathing fast and heavy, and I’m so sensitive that it doesn’t take long before the tightness builds inside me again. I dig my fingers into West’s muscled back, curve a leg around his hips, and he crushes me against him.

I moan again, and his whole body tenses. He’s almost there, I can feel how hard he is within me, and it makes me wild.

“Yasmin,” West shouts hoarsely in my ear he plunges into me one last time.

As we fly over the edge together, with every breath I call his name.

Chapter 16

West

It takes me a few seconds before I can think clearly. Blinking slowly, I open my eyes and drink everything in. The sand at my fingers. The cool surf beyond my feet. And Yasmin beneath me, a relaxed smile on her soft lips, looking satiated and sexy as hell.

I pull out and lean on my side next to her. It won’t take long until I’m hard again—especially with her gorgeous body at my fingertips—and I start thinking about all of the delicious things I want to do with her, here on the beach.
 

A voice at the back of my head warns that this is dangerous. What about all my resolve to stay focused on work? But looking down at Yasmin, I’m ready to throw that resolve out the window. I’m done fighting this. I like the way she challenges me, her fiery pout when I tell her she has to wear the Kippy costume. I like the way she thinks I’m some kind of artist, even though I’m not. I like the look in her eyes when she talks about her sister, her family, and how she’s not afraid to let me see her cry. I like how she gets me talking about my mom, when I haven’t talked about her to anyone in years. Somehow, Yasmin’s gotten under my skin, and I’m betting she’s going to stay there.

I thread my fingers through Yasmin’s hair. Her nipples are pink in the sun, her lips swollen from my kisses and utterly irresistible. I’m about to tell her how beautiful she looks when she wriggles an arm free and clamps her hand over my mouth.
 

“Don’t,” she warns. Her tone is sharp but her eyes are teasing.
 

“Don’t what?” I say, muffled.
 

“Don’t say that was a mistake.”
 

Gently, I take her hand away. “I wasn’t going to.”
 

She furrows her brow a little suspiciously. “Then what were you going to say?”
 

“I was about to mention how …” I dip my lips to her neck, tracing my tongue against her salty skin.
 

“How what?”
 

I lick her collarbone, and she lets out a little moan that makes me hard all over again. “How amazingly gorgeous you are.”
 

“Oh, really?” she says breathily. “Don’t let me stop you.”
 

I laugh into her throat before I trail my tongue down toward her breast, letting it circle around her nipple before I take the whole thing into my mouth. Soon, she’s writhing beneath me, and I grab another condom from my camera bag. As I slide into her, I groan with pleasure.

I can’t get enough of this. Of her.
 

When we both catch our breaths again, I roll off of Yasmin and prop myself onto my elbows, glancing at her. Her eyes are closed, her mouth half-smiling.
 

“So,” she says with a sigh. “I guess I gave your sea turtles a run for their money.”
 

“Sea turtles?” I have absolutely no idea what she’s talking about.
 

She opens her eyes. “Never mind.” Reaching up, she draws my head down for a long delicious kiss. Drinking in the floral scent of her hair and feeling the warmth of her soft skin, I wrap an arm around Yasmin’s waist and roll over, pulling her to rest on top of me. She lays her head on my chest, and for a long while we say nothing, just listen to the sound of the waves at our feet and the whoosh of the breeze.
 

“What time is it?” she says after a while.
 

I shrug. “Who cares?”
 

“We told Elise we’d meet her at the barbecue. What if she comes looking for us and we’re …” She raises her head, a faint blush spreading over her cheeks. “Like this?”
 

I tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “We could always go back to my cabin,” I say with a grin.
 

She returns my smile, but it fades after a few seconds. I gaze up at her, puzzled. Did I say something wrong? Yasmin wriggles a few inches away from me, her gaze wandering down the beach, back toward the ship.
 

“Everything okay?” I ask.
 

She shrugs one shoulder. “West, what does this all mean? For us.”
 

I wish Yasmin would look at me, because right now I have absolutely no clue what’s going on her head. My idiot mouth got me in trouble the last couple times we found ourselves in this kind of situation, so I sit up and consider my answer.
 

Before I can speak, though, Yasmin continues, “I know you don’t want to date another crew member, thanks to whatever happened between you and Letta—”

“The thing with Letta was nothing like what’s going on with us,” I interrupt firmly. “And as for what happened just now … I don’t think it’s a mistake, if that’s what you’re asking.”

At that, Yasmin relaxes a little. “Good,” she mumbles, and looks my way again. She lies down her stomach at the edge of the sarong and props herself up on her elbows. Her knees bend to lift her feet into the air, tracing patterns in the sunlit Caribbean breeze, but she makes no move to cover herself. Though my hands ache to touch her tanned skin again, for now I’m content to simply gaze at my island nymph and be happy that I’ve chased the shadows from her eyes, at least for a little while.

After a minute of quiet, Yasmin’s cheeks grow red.

“What?” she asks. “You’re kind of staring, West.”

“You’re so beautiful,” I say.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she teases, then puts up a hand. “Never mind. You are so not taking naked pictures of me.”

I grin.

“Don’t need to. The images are seared onto my brain.”

Yasmin blushes furiously, which makes me laugh and pull her atop of me again.

“Look,” she says softly, “I don’t want to mess with your focus at work. I know that’s really important to you. I’m not asking for more than you want, and I don’t know what, if anything, that might be, but—”

“I want everything,” I say, surprising her … and myself. Just this morning I was reminding myself that I shouldn’t date an employee, that I had to keep my distance, keep my cool. Not do exactly what we’ve done on this beach. But I wouldn’t trade this afternoon for all the promotions in the world.

That scares the shit out of me, and for a moment I almost take back the words. But Yasmin is staring at me with such a radiant, trembling expression, one of hope and happiness and even a little fear of her own, like a hibiscus flower in my palm, and I’d rather die than do anything to make her wilt.

So I pull her head down to mine. “Everything,” I repeat, and kiss her again.

Chapter 17

Yasmin

The few days after the beach pass in a happy daze. West and I stay professional at work—mostly—and spend our free time together. I wind up all but moving into his cabin, since he has a single.

I’d thought West would want to keep things casual, ramp up slow, but I’m learning that he’s an all or nothing kind of guy. There’s no middle ground for him, but that’s fine with me because I can’t get enough of him.

He does, however, schedule me to wear the Kippy costume again at the start of the next cruise.

“Why me?” I pout. We’re in the storeroom after the weekly meeting, and everyone else has departed for a break before the next onslaught of passengers.

“Because it’s your turn, and I can’t let anyone think I’m giving you preferential treatment.” He hesitates, as if he’s steeling himself, then adds. “I guess I could wear it, instead.”

He’d wear the Kippy costume for me? My insides turn meltier than ice cream in the Caribbean sun, because offering to wear the sweaty, bulky Star Heart mascot is way sweeter of a gesture than roses or chocolates. I almost take him up on it, but honestly, I much prefer West working the camera. I love to see him behind the lens.

“No thanks; I’ll take my
preferential treatment
later tonight.” I wink at him, and he puts a hand on each side of my hips. He walks me backward until my butt hits the edge of a table. There’s a wicked glint in his eye that has me melting even more.

“You sure you don’t want any preferential treatment now?” West says, sliding one hand under my Star Heart polo.
 

“Now?”

He bends to whisper in my ear. “There’s nearly forty minutes before we have to be at the embarkation hallway.”

“Whatever will we do with the time?” I ask innocently. West shoves a stack of paper out of the way, then lifts me up onto the table. His strong hands on my hips make my heart beat faster, and faster still when he slips off my shirt. His head bends down to mine, his lips devouring me, sending heat and electricity shooting all the way to my teal-polished toes.

I wriggle out of my shorts and panties, then undo his belt and zipper so that West’s shorts fall to the floor. Wrapping my legs around West’s hips, I pull him close, settle him against me. He lifts me up slightly, and moans deep in his throat as he lowers me onto him. He fills me completely, and I can’t help a soft exclamation myself.

“God, you feel so good,” West murmurs in my ear, and I arch against him, loving the sensation.

“Back at’cha,” I whisper, and feel West’s chuckle all the way through me. He starts to move, capturing my mouth with his. Paper slides off the table, bumped by my hips, and the white sheets spread across the floor. It reminds me of how we met and I pause, worried West’s profit margins will be eroded by the destroyed supplies, but he only glances at the mess before dipping his head to kiss my neck. His fingers unclasp my bra, and then his lips are on my nipple, and I’m gasping for breath. He moves within me like waves in a storm, fast, strong, devastating, and for the rest of the break I hardly think at all.

~ ~ ~

We’re nearly at the end of the long stream of passengers boarding the
Radiant Star
when I spot a family of four waiting in line at the embarkation desk. The mom and dad wear tired expressions, while the kids are bickering. The girl is about twelve, maybe thirteen; the boy is younger, and something about his thin frame makes me look twice.
 

When the boy takes off his hat and I see the thin, scraggly fuzz on his head, I inhale sharply, realizing what I’m looking at. I saw a lot of sick kids while visiting Sofia at hospitals, and it’s like I’m staring down a time warp of my own family, years ago.
 

The boy ducks behind his parents and smacks his sister on the butt with his hat. She yelps, then turns and snatches the hat from his hand.
 

“Hey, that’s mine,” he says. “Give it back!”