Page 33 of Weathering The Storm

The admission catches me so off guard, a laugh bursts out of me.

He turns his head, covering half of his smile with a pillow. “I bought a board. Practiced every night.”

“Wanted to win that badly, huh?”

The fabric rustles as he shakes his head. “I thought if I could get good enough, you’d want to play me more often. I’d have an excuse to be around you… Jesus, I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. It’s pathetic.”

I press my lips to his. “I’ve never accidentally stolen your crew radio. It was just the easiest excuse to come back and see you. I had a once-per-season limit though, so I wouldn’t do it too much and make you think I was disorganized. How’s that for pathetic?”

He blinks back at me, his smile widening. “Come up with a different excuse next time. That shit’s annoyinganda safety hazard.”

“Why do you think I only did it when we were running and the seas were flat?”

A breath whooshes out of him as I roll over on top of him, taking his hands and stretching his arms over his head. Trailing my fingers down the insides of his forearms, his biceps. Brushing my thumbs over his nipples until they harden.

I lean in and kiss him, trying and failing not to let my hips sink into his. “I should get back to my room before Perry notices I’m gone.”

Nick brushes my cheek with his thumb, hesitating. “Wish you could stay.”

I wish he’dtell meto stay, but neither of us are sober enough to make that choice.

“Me too.” I force myself out of his bed, the cold setting in immediately. “Sadly, my roommate calls. If you listen closely, you can hear him from here. That’s not the bilge pump, believe it or not.”

Nick chuckles, sitting up on his elbows as he watches me wash myself off in the sink. “Repairs should be done tomorrow. You can let the guys know nobody is going out again. Captain’s orders. We’re running back out to that hotspot and it’s supposed to be rough. I can’t have my entire crew blowing chunks over the gunwale.”

“Will do.” I step into my sweatpants. “You made their whole season tonight, you know. Pretty sure there won’t be any complaints.”

“They’d be happy if anyone beat you.”

“True enough. Everyone’s gunning for you when you’re at the top.” I pull my hoodie over my head. “But they’re just happy you were there. I know you don’t think of yourself as Mr. Life-of-the-Party, but you don’t have to be. They like you as you are. They look up to you.”

“You think?”

“I know.”Because I feel the same way.I go to the side of the bed again, bending over to press my lips to his forehead. “Night, Nicky.”

He clasps my arm, holding my eyes for one last moment before he lets go. “Goodnight, Rit.”

Chapter 9

Nick

Ishouldn’t have let Seth go.

I should have asked him to stay. Should have pulled him beneath the blankets and fallen asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. Should have taken advantage of every last second we had together while we were docked.

But I let cowardice win. I spent more time missing him than sleeping that night, regretting the words I let die on my tongue as I watched him walk out the door. And now that we’re back out at sea, my bed is colder than it’s ever been.

I keep waiting for the sleep-deprivation to kick in and temper my libido, but so far, things are only getting worse. Sitting in mychair is torture. I can’t get off my feet without remembering what Seth looked like on his knees. Sometimes I have to listen to the weather updates two or three times before I catch every detail.

More than once, I’ve overshot our waypoints because I’m watching him on deck, and my dick chubs up every time I hear him speak over the radio. A barrage of filthy, sexy, private words coming back to me at the sound of his voice.

Eight days have passed since he snuck up to my cabin. I see him from the bridge all day and we’re in constant communication, but we spend hardly any time together. Seth is my primary relief captain. If I’m not at the helm, he generally is.

Coffee breaks are the only moments we’re alone. Five, ten, maybe fifteen minutes here and there. Lately he’s been stopping in more often than usual though. And against all medical guidelines for caffeine consumption, I’ve been drinking every cup he brings me.

When he knocks on the door jamb this evening, I can’t remember if it’s the fifth or sixth time since 0600.

I glance over my shoulder, taking in the windswept hair poking out from beneath the hood of his sweatshirt and trying to wrestle the mushy look off my face as he hands me a mug.