"A blackout? You didn't remember anything?"
Hadn't he already said that? "Not much, no."
He wasn't sure if that helped her come to grips with this or not, but it certainly sent her eyebrows trenching deeper until she softened and leaned ever so slightly toward him. Her deep freeze seemed to have ended. He could all but see the wheels churning in her brain as she sifted through his words. A promising sign and incentive to keep spilling his guts even if the talk grated all the way up his throat.
Carson rested an elbow on the silver railing, the waves below offering none of their usual comfort or answers. He shifted his attention to the speedboat in the distance. "I've always known I wouldn't get married. That's the reason I dated women with zero interest in commitment, until you came along and I started questioning what I knew, damn it, what I still believe, but am having trouble holding strong all over again."
"Why are you so sure you shouldn't get married?"
"My parents were drug addicts. Two of my grandparents had substance abuse problems, as well as an aunt and a couple of uncles. I've stopped counting the cousins with chemical dependency issues." He ticked off the dreary stat count on his fingers. "It's in my genes and I've seen what it can do to a family."
"Did any of them acknowledge the problem or get help?">And suddenly coming here didn't seem so sappy after all if it made her happy. Three steps down into the galley, then they stumbled backward toward the sleeping quarters. The bed stretched from side to side, no room to walk around, the mattress the only real place to sit—or lie—together out of the biting wind. Yes.
As if she'd heard his thoughts, she moaned her agreement into his mouth. Minimal light filtered through the rectangular portals, slanting illumination over the brown linens in their cave-like haven.
Her frantic hands tore at his jacket, then yanked his long-sleeved polo shirt past his head, sending it sailing to the floor at the same time he finally managed to peel up her neon T-shirt and, heaven help him, her matching green bra.
Damn, he loved her bright colors and the way they echoed the brightness inside her.
The boat rocked under his feet with the gentle slap of each wave against the hull, but the soft swell of Nikki's br**sts above the lacy cups rocked him even more. A chilly gust of salty air blasted through the hatch, beading tempting br**sts against satin, luring him to touch more of her. All of her.
His mouth exploring her neck, he reached behind to close the door. Darker. Warmer.
Alone.
Lowering her, he extended an arm to brace on the edge of the mattress until they stretched side by side along the brown comforter. Shoes thudded—one, two, three, four—onto the waterproof flooring. "Do you want—?"
"Yes. Totally. Want you to stop talking."
"Roger." He could think of better ways to occupy his mouth, especially since she seemed so intent on getting them both in the buff ASAP. He clicked on the miniature lamp mounted to the wall, intent on recording every inch of her to memory.
On her back, she scrunched down her jeans with an enticing wriggle and kicked them free, revealing matching mint panties and oh-so-long legs. His pulse spiked, couldn't possibly jump higher.
And then she proved him wrong.
Nikki skimmed her foot up over his ankle, rucking up his jeans to burrow her toes higher, rubbing back and forth, skin to skin contact all the more intense as the stakes rose for them.
He released the front clasp on her bra, desire pounding harder, pulling tauter. He grazed hot kisses down her neck, lower, so slow, tormenting until she splayed her fingers through his hair and guided him to...
Yes.
He blew warm air over the heart of her a second before he tasted her essence—hot and moist. And apparently just what she wanted if her gasps and sweet whimpers were anything to gauge by, her legs widening to give him more. All. Her release came hard and fast, her clawing grip on his shoulders sending a bolt of pleasure throbbing through him. He held her thighs and soothed her through the aftershocks.
Confined in the cramped hull, she grappled with his jeans, unbuttoning the fly one strained pop at a time. Her hand slid inside and...
Uh, what was he thinking about?
His mind blanked, thoughts washed away along with all his blood flooding south. Jeans flew off as fast as what remained of his restraint. Fishing a condom from his wallet, he sheathed himself and rolled on top of her soft scented body, lowering himself, seating deep inside her.
Her legs locked around his waist, urging him to move, move again, endlessly with an urgency echoed inside him. The boat undulated with waves that left her clinging tight to him for anchor. The surprise surges heightened the pleasure, deeper, harder, then shallow and faster.
Until her toned legs demanded he give all. He gritted his teeth through the blinding drive to finish. But not before her...not before...
Her scream sliced through his restraint like the hull of a boat parting a wave, the wake crashing into a churning tumult that lasted and lasted, finally fading. Shuddering in the aftermath, he sagged on top of her, her sighs heating over his neck. Her hands glided along his sweaty shoulders in feather light touches that slowed along with her breaths at the onset of her nap.
Shifting to his side, he pulled her closer, holding her while she slept. No more delaying. He would have to tell her about his alcoholism, something that could, and very likely should, send her running.
Why hadn't he done this back when the prospect of losing her didn't rock him even more than facing combat?