I took to them like a life raft. A shelter. A sanctuary. They were soft and all I wanted to think about.
He inhaled deeply through his nose, his hands coming to my face.
“Wait,” I said and he blinked. I chuckled and took the cinnamon gum from my mouth, dropping it into a small grocery bag I’d brought water over in a few days back.
Then I sank back to his mouth.
He pulled back.
“Please kiss me,” I begged and nipped at his lips. “I love kissing you. I want to think about kisses not postcards. Help me not think.”
He sighed, taking my face in his hands again and opening his mouth over mine. His tongue had the slight bitter tang of beer, and I loved it. I loved how he angled my face to suit him. How his hand, when it wasn’t holding or caressing my jaw, snaked into my hair and massaged the back of my head.
All too soon, my breathing rate had notched up with my pulse, and my hands tightened in the hair at his nape. The fire I felt each time he’d kissed me unfurled at lightning speed low in my belly. I gasped into his mouth, opening wider, seeking more.
He made a low growling sound and pulled me to straddle his hips. The position put me half a head higher than him. His face dropped to my neck, my ear, and my shoulder, his mouth hot and wet over my skin. Goose bumps erupted over my flesh, and the close quarters meant we were leaning at an odd angle. I put my hands up on the cabin roof to avoid banging my head. It was feverish and awkward and I never wanted it to stop.
His hand roamed from my waist until he was gripping my ass and pulling me forward. Grinding me against him.
“Shit,” he said, his eyes half-lidded, his mouth slack and a flush across his cheekbones. “I’ll never be able to have cinnamon again and not think of this.” He took my mouth again, tasting, and I kissed him back. “But we should stop,” he managed, pulling his mouth from mine.
I rocked against him, hitting pay dirt as his erection made contact with me, making him hiss a breath through his teeth. “I know,” I moaned. “But this feels so good.”
The hand on my ass squeezed. “I need to get you safely home.”
I sighed. “Okay. But for the record. You can kiss me any time. Your lips are delicious.”
He chuckled. “So are yours.”
“This is just between you and me,” I said. “I don’t need the whole world knowing we are kissing buddies.”
He didn’t say anything, so I took his face and tilted it up to me. He resisted slightly but let me. His pupils were large and dark, almost covering his denim blue eyes. He stared at me unblinking and I looked back at him. “Nothing to say to that?”
His shoulders moved. “Nope.”
“Okay, lets go.” I climbed off his lap.
He blew out a breath and rubbed his face. Then he got up, promptly bashing his head on the cabin ceiling. “Ouch,” he yelped.
I burst out laughing. “Sorry.” I winced. “Shit. You okay?”
He sat back down and rubbed his head. “No,” he moaned. “I’m too big for this boat. How was this comfortable for your father?”
“It was just him.”
“He left it here?”
“When he left my mom and me. Left it for me I guess. He always said it would be mine one day.”
“How old were you?”
“Around five.”
“Pink cowgirl boots age?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded his head toward the berth in the bow of the boat. “You ever slept in there?”
“The night? No. But I dozed off tonight before you texted. My mom would tan my hide if I did that.”
“You’re a bit old for a tanning, aren’t you?”
“It’s an expression, jackass.”
“I know.” He laughed, then sobered. “Actually, on the subject of your mom—”
“You think she’s seeing Dr. Barrett,” I finished for him.
He turned his head to me. “Yeah.”
“I think so too. If they aren’t yet, they will soon.”
Joey swallowed and rubbed his hand over his short hair. “I’ve met his wife and his girls. They are so nice.”
I squished onto the bench next to him and traced my fingers over the engraved brass plaque on the galley next to me that had the name of the boat: All That Jazz. “I bet they are.” I looked at Joey. “I’m sorry.”
He frowned. “It’s not your fault.”
“Sometimes I think it is, you know? Like if she hadn’t had me to look after she could have gone on dates, maybe met a better man who was better to her than my father. One that would have at least stuck around.”
“That’s not your fault.”
“Well, I’ve been a burden I guess. Not important enough for my dad to stick around for and a drain on my mother’s time and resources. A crimp in her lifestyle.” I slapped my thigh. “Sweet baby Jesus. Listen to my pity party.”
“I am,” said Joey. “I understand more than you know. But you know what?”
I looked at him warily, and he took my hand where it was still tracing the name of the boat over and over. “What?” I asked.
“You’re all that, Jazz,” he deadpanned. Then he clamped his mouth shut, his eyes bugging out as if trying to keep looking serious.
I mashed my lips together and glared at him. Oh shit. I tried really hard not to laugh. But suddenly a giggle snort erupted out of me.