“Come here.”
Farther down the deck, there’s a bolted-down bench in front of a metal grate set into the hull. Ashley settles into it without asking questions, and I sit down next to her and kick the grate.
Fire crackles to life inside it.
For a rich girl, Ashley looks fairly shocked about this. “A fireplace? Here?”
“People have to keep watch.”
“You don’t get cold out here, I bet.”
Of course I get cold. “What makes you think that?”
She looks back out over the sea. A pool of moonlight shines in the center of black water. “You felt warm when we were out there. You may be a murderer, but you’re not a psychopath.”
“Because I was warm?” If she thinks this, then it’s a miracle she’s survived on this planet for so long. She belongs in some cossetted college campus, not a ship.
“Because you came after me in the first place. I think if you were really a cold-blooded psychopath, you would have killed me on sight. You wouldn’t have saved me. Twice.”
“I took your buoy so you couldn’t save yourself.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t leave. That was an option.”
I don’t tell her that it wasn’t. It hasn’t been an option since I found her.
“Leaving a valuable hostage wasn’t on the table. Don’t forget.” I make my voice hard, and she glances at me. “That’s what you are.”
“And you’re a pirate.” Her tone is measuring. She’s baiting me.
“I’m in shipping.”
“You’re a pirate,” she insists. “You kill people because of some obscure code of honor. And I’m supposed to believe there are people out there worse than you.”
“You just switched sides in the argument.”
“Were they evil or not?” Ashley’s leaning in now. Much closer than she needs to be. “Or did you lie about that?”
Uncertainty flashes through her eyes. I won’t break Cook’s nose, but I will be having a chat with him about not intentionally leaving out half the facts.
Then again… I wanted her to be afraid of me.
I want her to be afraid of me.
Maybe not permanently.
“There are some deals you shouldn’t make. And some things you shouldn’t ship.”
“Like stolen things?”
“Like children, princess. People should not put children in the cargo hold of a ship and sell them for money.”
Her expression softens. Starlight catches in her eyes, and right now I feel as close to the sea as I ever have. Like there’s no ship. No crew. No endless tasks coming across my desk, no endless deals and jobs. No search for a missing treasure that’s taken up most of my adult life.
No hostage.
No ransom.
Just two people on a bench near a fireplace that shouldn’t exist on a passion project of a ship. Just neverending open sea.
Ashley slides closer. It’s an effort, because she’s got eighteen pounds in her lap, but she does it.
She moves in. An inch at a time. Until she’s close enough to kiss.
Her eyes trace over my lips, then back up to my eyes.
Whatever she finds there, it’s enough, because she sits up tall and brushes her lips over mine. Once, then twice, then three times—tentative until it’s not tentative anymore.
It’s a real fucking kiss.
I lean down into it with my mind in pieces. No one has ever, ever, kissed me like this. I would never have let it happen.
But it is happening. It’s happening so much that I can’t ignore it. Can’t shut off the part of me that is massively, painfully turned on by the whole sweet business. Can’t stop the way it sets my heart on fire. She moves me. Moves me in a way that nothing does, save for the sea.
Ashley stops for a single, shuddering breath.
Then she kisses me again.
11
Ashley
Poseidon kisses me back and it’s not like it was in the water. It’s not half of a fight we’ve been having. It’s not a technique to get me to shut the hell up and go along with being rescued. It’s deeper than that.
I feel a little bad that I’m using this as a distraction.
It’s a distraction for me, too.
None of what he said should redeem him. None of what he said should make it tolerable to kiss him. Even if he’s telling the truth about horrible people selling children—and he probably is—he’s the same man who’s keeping me for ransom.
None of it should make me want this.
I’m split neatly down the middle. Part of me wants to make out with him until I’ve forgotten every other person I’ve ever kissed. And part of me knows I’d be better off making another escape attempt than staying here.
I let go of the ball and touch him. The front of his shirt. His collar. The solid body below his collar. I put both hands flat on his chest so that he gets a sense of them.
All the old lessons come back to me.
Keep your hands moving. The art of misdirection is about drawing people’s attention.
I’ve given Poseidon my lips and my hands to focus on, and if I have to, I’ll give him my body. Again. That’s what I was doing before, when he—
No. That’s a lie. I wasn’t. I wasn’t doing anything to him. I was lost to him, and that can’t happen again, because if it goes much further I’ll never be found. I’ll never understand what happened here. I’ll never be able to sort out in my own mind why it felt so good to feel him swim us back to the ship after I spent all that time trying to get away. I’ll never get over it.
But the memory of being beneath him in that bed kickstarts everything I didn’t want to happen. The heat spreading across my face. The desire winding up between my legs. If it weren’t for the damned ball, I’d have them open for him. What the fuck is wrong with me? It takes everything I have to wrap his shirt in my fist and pull him in for the final part of this plan.
The key to the ball and chain is in his pocket. Its slim outline has been obvious since I brushed my hands over his pants. He didn’t notice. He doesn’t notice now. He’s too busy kissing me back with a kind of serious concentration that seems unlike him. Then again, what the hell do I know? Maybe he is like this. Maybe he always kisses like he’ll never get another chance.
This next part is trickier, but I’ve already guided my ankle up onto the bench. I push into him harder, opening my mouth for him, letting him in while I slip the key into the lock around my ankle.
The clasp opens.
I kick the chain off as Poseidon pulls back. Surprise chases the heat and lust from his eyes, and before he can grab me, before he can stop me, I stand up and walk the ball to the railing.
It goes over. Falls. Plops into the water with an echoing splash.
I’m free of it.
But also, not free.
I whirl around in time for Poseidon to meet me at the railing. It’s a cold stripe across my back and he pushes in, a hand on either side of me. It’s not the same as in the galley. Not the same at all. Down there, I was pressed against a solid wall. Now I’m one good shove from a quick drop into the ocean.
I have to lean back, almost out over the water, to keep his face in view. It makes my breath shallow and my heart take off in a sprint.