After a few minutes had passed and Hawk had thoroughly examined the port side of the cabin for any other leaks and found two, he turned back to find Plum still dragging the damn cloth across his wet skin, his gaze over his shoulder on Hawk.
Heat lashed through him like the rain beating the windows as Plum dipped the cloth between his buttocks, lips parting on a sigh.
The little shit knew exactly what he was doing.
Hawk could imagine his entrance was quite tender after how hard it had been fucked. Surely too tender to be breached once again so soon—not that Hawk was entertaining such an idea, since he’d vowed not to stick his cock in that sweet arse again. Well, certainly not today, at any rate.
What about my tongue?
Visions ran riot through his mind: Plum on his knees, head out the window, backside up. Hawk’s face buried between his cheeks, licking into him while Plum moaned and shuddered; Hawk bringing him off without even touching his cock, then jerking himself and spurting all over Plum’s back and arse, marking his pale skin, claiming—
Enough!
“Get your clothes back on,” he barked.
Plum blinked. “You don’t want to…?” In the silence that followed, he dropped his head and lunged for his shirt—Hawk’s old white linen—holding it to him, clearly chastened.
“There’s work to be done.” Hawk slammed around in his desk drawers, gritting his teeth and willing his cock to deflate and the fire in his veins to be doused.
Plum quickly tugged the shirt and his breeches over his wet skin, crossing his arms over his chest and returning to the corner. Hawk found himself adding, “Besides, you don’t want to go up on deck naked.”
Why he’d said it, he didn’t know. He shouldn’t want to ease the sting of rejection and offer a gift. But he had, and Nathaniel—Plum’s head shot up, anticipation brightening his face. Hawk had to look away, striding to the door. “Come on, then. No talking to the men. No trickery.”
Up top, the crew paused in their work to stare at Plum, then each other, then Snell. As Hawk glowered, they all bent to their tasks again. Plum tipped his head back, baring his throat as he opened his mouth and swallowed fresh, cool rainwater. It did nothing to ease Hawk’s half-hard prick, but at least if they were on deck, he would not break his vow.
Plum’s white shirt clung to him, translucent in the rain, and Hawk made himself no promises about tomorrow.
Chapter Twelve
The deck was almost dry beneath his feet, the sun having reappeared in all its glory to banish the rain and clouds, and yet he hadn’t been banished to the cabin once more.
Nathaniel stayed by the port railing, out of the way, not breathing a word. It seemed that Hawk had perhaps forgotten about him, and he was simultaneously grateful and resentful.
He’d felt so bold, taking off all his clothes and washing in front of Hawk. Lingering over it, waiting for Hawk to come to him, to fuck him again.
But he hadn’t, and Nathaniel’s skin prickled as he shifted uncomfortably, wishing for the hundredth time he could run or swim and clear his head. Perhaps Hawk had had his fill now, and Nathaniel no longer tempted him.
He should be glad of it, but of course he despaired. How would he go without it now? Sin or no, he didn’t care. He wanted Hawk inside him again. He didn’t care if it hurt—he’d take every bruise and ache to experience the release again, the sensation of rightness, that he had finally become himself—real—in a way he couldn’t explain.
Lord, how he wanted a kiss, to taste Hawk’s mouth and share his breath, feel the scratch of his beard, be consumed…
The idea that Hawk was no longer interested left him hollow with want. Which was daft, since, as a logical voice reminded him, Hawk was a pirate. A pirate who had kidnapped him and threatened his sister most foully.
A thief and killer who brought terror to the seas. Twice his age, if not more. The list of reasons Nathaniel should cringe from his touch was extensive. Yet…
It had become intolerable to believe Hawk would deliver on his promise to murder Nathaniel or Susanna if the ransom was not paid. Nathaniel recognized that he might be deceiving himself in hoping Hawk was a good man beneath his hard shell, but surely his odds of survival only increased the closer they grew.
So what was the harm in believing there was more to Hawk? If he was so cold-blooded that he could still follow through on those threats, Nathaniel tormenting himself with worry would only make his last weeks unbearable and change nothing. Taking pleasure with Hawk could only help his chances—and bring him satisfaction deeper than he’d known possible.
No, Nathaniel would not allow Hawk to keep him at arm’s length. He refused.