That sexy growl ought to be subject to international safety protocols. “I don’t see a bed,” she pointed out.
“Close enough for me. Do you mind if I...” He tugged his shirt over his head and dropped it on the deck. “Sweaty fabric gets problematic when it chills down. You’re better off with bare skin. Just a lil’ safety tip.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Her heartbeat picked up speed, preparing for something momentous. He settled back down, all broad chest and wide shoulders and heated skin.
“I can be your bed,” he offered helpfully. “Just roll on up here and stretch out. I’m like a bed with a built-in heater.”
“Oh no. I mean, tempting offer, but I get the idea you’re trying to change the subject. I want to know what you were dreaming about.”
He shifted uncomfortably, then flung an arm across his forehead. “Why? It was a bad dream. Meant nothing.”
“You were saying something. It sounded important.”
“What did I say?”
“Something about ‘no, not him, damn it.’ It sounded real, not like a dream.”
She noticed the flex of muscle in his jaw. “Why do you care? You barely know me.”
“I am in a sleeping bag with you,” she pointed out. “We’re in the middle of this crazy adventure together. Is it so strange that I’d want to know more about you? I’m trusting you with my safety, and Raul’s too.”
He gave a soft snort. “I don’t even know your real name. I know for sure it ain’t Lulu.”
Right, now she remembered that he’d asked her about that right before she fell asleep. Conveniently fell asleep. “Lulu is my stage name.”
“And when you’re not onstage?”
“Louise.”
“That’s it? Louise?”
“I know, it’s boring, right? Old-fashioned. That’s why I go by Lulu. It’s a better name for a dancer.”
“No last name? You didn’t even give Maya your whole name, I noticed. Come on, Lulu. Cough it up and I’ll tell you about my dream.”
She let out a long sigh. “Fine, you want the whole thing? Louise Charlotte Victoria Spencer-Bennington.”
He rolled over onto his side to face her. The sleeping bag might be roomy, but right now it felt awfully crowded with those big shoulders tenting the material. “That sounds like a name for a royal baby.”
“I’m not a royal baby. But my mother was fifty-third in line for the throne,” she admitted quickly. “It didn’t pass on to me because I was born out of wedlock. Also, she fell for a postman and more or less disgraced herself. And me by extension.”
“So just to make sure I got this…you’re sort of a distant member of the British royal family?”
“I suppose you could say I’m royal-adjacent. Occasionally we used to get invited to something. And I have met some of the lesser royals. But it’s a very distant connection and meant absolutely nothing to me when I was growing up. Now that my mother is gone, it means even less.”
Nonetheless, he was staring at her with fascination. “You’re princess-adjacent.”
“Stop that. I grew up in a two-room apartment. My father delivered the post for a living. My mother didn’t want to saddle me with anything royal-related. That’s why she didn’t want to marry.” Her voice caught as a visceral memory of her mother rushed back to her. The royal family is a corrupt enterprise and you’re better off far away from it. “She was a woman of many opinions. She’s why I’m here. Well, not here in this sleeping bag.” Actually, Mum would be ecstatic that she was snuggled up with Tristan. “She encouraged me to leave England after she died.”
In the darkness, his gaze softened. He reached for her, tucked a strand of hair back under her watch cap. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
The gentleness of his touch unnerved her. How could hands so big and rough land so lightly on her hair? He stroked her cheek, then cupped his hand around the curve of her neck.
“You didn’t upset me. I was very close to my mother, that’s all. When she died, I…I didn’t know what to do. I mean that literally. I’d dropped everything to take care of her, and then she was gone. For the first few days, I’d wake up with this terrifying blankness. The day ahead of me would feel like an endless desert. I closed up Mum’s apartment and I’ve been traveling the world on cruise ships ever since then.”
“And fishing boats,” he corrected. “I know it’s a downgrade.”
“No.” On impulse, she leaned toward him and brushed a kiss onto his mouth. “It’s not a downgrade at all. I like this. Honestly, my berth on the Northern Princess wasn’t much bigger than this sleeping bag.”
He chuckled, and when she tried to pull back, he firmed his grip. She relaxed into it, letting him take all the weight of her head, of her entire being.
When he kissed her, she felt like Alice in Wonderland tumbling down the rabbit hole into a world where things didn’t make sense…and yet made more sense than they ever had.
Why should a fisherman and a runaway dancer share a connection so bright and powerful? How did he know how to kiss her so thoroughly? Why did her body behave as if she’d known this man all her life?
She stretched and tangled her legs with his, seeking out heat and hardness. He helped her by scissoring one muscular leg over her and tugging her close to his hips and the glorious bulge swelling under his sleep pants. She inhaled his smell, composed of frosty spruce trees and hot man. Even the hint of sweat made her wild.
Everything inside her released, as if she’d been holding a knot inside her ever since she left the cruise ship. Or maybe even longer. Maybe since her mother died. Whatever the case, it burst like a dam under pressure, and hot lust ran through her veins. Her nipples pebbled hard. He responded by running his hand under her shirt.
She arched her back as his palm settled over her breast. Ah God, that felt good. That primitive pleasure, that joy in just being alive…it had been so long. So terribly long. Her pussy pulsed with deep need. And her clit…she wanted his hand there, on the little tingling nub.
She wanted to do this right now. Right here. Was that insane?
Pulling out of the kiss, she whispered, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
He paused, going still. “Like, big picture, or right now?”
“I mean, I know what we’re doing in this sleeping bag. Or at least what I hope we’re going to do. But outside of that, I know nothing. I don’t know where I’ll be tomorrow, or the week after. I can’t promise anything.”
“I know the feeling,” he murmured. He took her earlobe between his teeth and tugged. It felt divine. “No promises needed. I’m in the same boat. Not good at making promises, so I don’t.”
She giggled a little at that phrasing. “So we’re two ships just passing in the night, right?”
“Just two ships tooting our horns at each other. Maybe exchanging some supplies.”
“Oh God, can someone put this terrible analogy out of its misery?” she moaned.
“My pleasure.” He dropped kisses along the side of her neck. She arched to give him better access. The heat of his palm on her breast drove her mad, especially when he squeezed ever so lightly, just enough to bring her nipple peaking to attention. “Lulu, how do you feel about taking some of these clothes off?” His breath warmed the skin of her collarbone.