Kresley Cole - The Captain of All Pleasures

 He thought she was a whore.

 She wasn’t offended by that in the least. She had befriended courtesans who made their livelihood from loving men. No, disappointment seeped into Nicole because during the day she had come to believe that they’d had some powerful connection the night before. The memory of that had factored into why she’d let him kiss and touch her. In reality, he’d just been surveying the women in the tavern and assumed she was part of his selection.

 When he walked away, she whirled around to leave. Because that’s what she should do. She hadn’t even reached the deck before she started doubting her decision. Those men were out there. It was freezing out on the docks. And dark.

 Nicole walked to the gangway, past the guards, who seemed uneasy around her. She tried to see each way down the quay, but only craggy, dark places abounded. Miles separated her from the Bella Nicola, and she had no money. And how could she be sure anyone would even be back aboard by now?

 She hesitated. Captain Sutherland thought she was a prostitute. Nicole didn’t attempt to delude herself that if she entered his cabin, she’d come out unscathed. Then she imagined Pretty jumping out from behind a building, his cadaverous face twisted into a grin.

 Crossly, she turned and scuffed to his cabin, all the while sorting through her spiraling emotions. When she entered, his face was unreadable, but she swore he looked surprised to see her return. If he was, he promptly got over it. He didn’t waste any time closing the door behind her, and she teased herself by ridiculously thinking that he didn’t want her to change her mind.

 He stood near enough that his warmth and his addictive scent enfolded her, before moving to the center of the cabin. He shrugged his broad shoulders out of his coat and tossed it over a chair, his every movement casual and unhurried. She had the feeling that he played with her, as if he had all the time in the world to find out her secrets.

 Regardless, she would make the most of this situation. Yes, she’d just entered Derek Sutherland’s cabin still shaking from his kiss. That was bad .But she needed a safe haven until she could be certain the crew had returned to her ship before she attempted to go home.

 “Captain, I, uh, would like…” She had to stop and cough before beginning again. “I would like to stay with you for a couple of hours. For protection,” she added hastily.

 “Why should I protect you?”

 Good question. Yet she had no good answer. “Because I’m asking you to?”

 He paused, taking time to look her over again. His voice was husky when he answered, “I’ll keep you here with me.”

 She nodded. There. That wasn’t so bad. This was a good decision, Nicole assured herself, even as she reacted to his hungry look with another bloom of heat throughout her body.

 But who, she wondered as the sensual rush turned into a deepening knot of dread, would protect her from herself?

 When Nicole forced her eyes away from Sutherland and surveyed his cabin, the first thing she noticed was his oversize bed. The second—he’d caught her looking at it. He had the gall to smirk at her, and her face flamed as she glanced away.

 The room was extremely large even for a ship of this size, but snug and warm with none of the usual drafts. She took in the tasteful colors and decor and reluctantly acknowledged that it easily surpassed her own cabin, even with all those fancy gifts from her hard-hearted grandmother crammed into it—gifts just waiting, in her opinion, for the right time to be coldly pawned.

 A sizable mahogany desk rested under a large clouded-glass skylight, and scattered all over it, so like her own, were charts and scribbled numbers.

 As if magnetically drawn to it, she edged over to spy out his course, straining to see in the low light. She made out many of the figures while he fed fuel into the stove and turned up the room’s lanterns.

 She examined his course line, knowing she was cheating, but she wanted to find out how far south he planned to sail through the Southern Ocean when rounding Africa’s Cape of Good Hope. If she could determine that, then she could either meet his course or beat it with a more dangerous, but faster latitude farther south. How low are you going to go, Captain Sutherland?

 Her eyebrows shot up. Lower than even her reckless father had ever dared.

 His course ran insanely close to the perilous seas around the Antarctic, cutting the distance and sailing time to Sydney. She had to have read it wrong.

 “Don’t try to read that,” he advised. “It will only give you a headache.”

 Her eyes narrowed. She’d been plotting since she was old enough to count. Indeed, she almost informed him with a sharp rap of her fingernails over the offending numbers thathe had made a mistake in one of his calculations. But she should probably let the error stand, since it could adversely affect his course in the race. It would be a cold-blooded thing to do, but this wasn’t a child’s game. If he couldn’t meet the challenge, then he’d fail.

 When she said nothing, he scrutinized her and said, “It’s a course —a map of where I’ll sail this ship on my next voyage.” Had he explained that slowly?

 Nicole’s nails bit into her palms as she quieted her arrogant pride. She managed a tepid smile as if impressed with his knowledge. Yet thoughts of the race vanished when he walked toward her in that slow, fluid way that made her belly tighten.

 He reached out to her, his body so close that she would have to move to avoid touching him. Instead, she lowered her lashes. Would he kiss her again? Did she want him to touch her with those lips once more? Nothing happened for the space of what should have been a couple of breaths.

 Her eyes flashed open; he’d reached past her toward a bottle of brandy. She didn’t think he’d seen her mortifying surrender, but that didn’t stop her from berating herself for being so vulnerable to him. Sutherland was a cruel man. A patronizing man. He expected, lest she forget, that she would be bought tonight.

 Well, he could occupy himself with liquor all night if he wanted, but she would not let him touch her again. As if to illustrate his matching intention, he poured a generous amount and drained his cut-crystal glass in two long draws.

 Inclining the bottle toward her, he halfheartedly offered her some. She couldn’t decide if this was because he didn’t think she’d accept or because he didn’t want to share. She shook her head in answer, the movement making her sway.

 Perhaps she should have taken a drink, she thought as a sudden wave of exhaustion washed over her and chilled her. Shivering, she pulled her cloak closer and wrapped her arms around her body.

 “You’re cold,” he said. He set down his glass and walked to a cabinet.

 “I seem to be,” she confessed. “I become cold very easily.”

 Their tones sounded so mundane that she thought of what would happen when reality claimed her. Thinking of tomorrow was like a wet blanket over all the sensations he’d produced in her, and she couldn’t make up her mind whether she wanted him to kiss her or if she wanted to fall down where she was and sleep.

 He turned from the cabinet and tossed a blanket at her, and though her sore body made it difficult, she awkwardly managed to catch it. Frowning, he looked her over; then, seeming to make a colossal sacrifice, he took it from her. Without a word, he tugged off her damp cloak to wrap the blanket around her, as if she were no more than a doll he was changing.

 He looked her up and down, his gaze stopping at her feet. “Since I’ve already started this idiocy…” he muttered gruffly, as he bent to untie and pull off her filthy boots. Obliged to place her hands on his wide, solid shoulders, she had to resist moving her fingers over the firm bunching of his muscles.

 When he removed the first boot, his eyes narrowed. He held it up to the lantern, where they both saw that the scuffed brown leather had soaked up splattered blood like a sponge.

 “Are you hurt?” he barked as he dropped that one and rushed to remove the other.

 “That’s not—that’s not my blood.” Merely thinking about where that blood came from, about the falls and the running enervated her.

 His eyebrows rose in amazement, and he studied her face before returning to his task. Nicole felt foolish when he took off her socks, leaving her to furrow her toes in the cabin’s plush rug. But she stood unresisting, knowing she needed his help just now. He strode to his bureau and brought back a pair of thick woolen socks. She hadn’t realized her feet were cold, but when she spied those socks her body cried for them.

 He jerked them over her feet, and her eyes closed in blissful comfort. “That feels so good,” she breathed. She opened her eyes and frowned at the sound of her husky, sensual voice. When had she ever sounded like that?

 He looked at her curiously, then stood abruptly. As if he needed to explain, he said, “Your feet were like ice.”

 Nicole nodded slowly, overwhelmed with fatigue. She took such a deep breath that her head moved with it. Her eyelids opened more sluggishly with each blink.

 With something like resignation in his eyes, he placed a huge hand on her lower back and began guiding her to his bed. “Come on. You’re exhausted.”

 “Oh. No, I can’t. I couldn’t.”

 When she resisted, he said, “I won’t hurt you.”

 She focused on his face to tell him she absolutely could not be in his bed, but no words came. Her legs shook. She must have gone soft in the rich surroundings of her last school, because a second later they simply gave out. She sank onto his bed, bewildered by her weakness.