While she had eaten, Knox had showered, dressed, and then without explanation, left the cabin.
Fine by me.
The stateroom was extravagant—like, ridiculously extravagant. It had a name, for goodness sake: The Grand Wescott Stateroom.
With the ship nearly booked, she had to wonder why this room had been vacant. Had it been too pricey, even for the usual wealthy clientele? Or had Trent somehow managed to negotiate such a nice room into the deal. Maybe all the rooms were this lavish and therefore considered nothing special. In any case, they were here, and she was grateful for that.
The Grand Wescott Stateroom was more of an apartment, really, with two floors and an outside deck. Cora had been surprised by that. Knox told her airships weren’t like planes. They didn’t need to be closed off and pressurized. They rarely rose more than a few thousand feet above sea level, and when they did, it was done gradually, like climbing up a mountain, allowing the passengers to adjust to the change in atmosphere.
The first floor opened to a divine foyer trimmed by potted ferns and miniature palms, which led to a formal sitting area for receiving guests, furnished with clean contemporary furniture. To the left was a fully stocked kitchenette and dining area. The appliances and fixtures appeared to have been tailored specifically to the room’s dimensions. Polished and gleaming, every surface had a pleasing curve to it, as if the designer decided a single harsh corner would destroy the aesthetic.
Beyond the kitchen, down a small set of steps, was a built-in bar and a cozy sitting area that faced the high panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows—currently offering an excellent view of the ocean. Morning light highlighted the area as if in invitation.
The second floor was just as extravagant. A set of curved stairs ran up the right wall to a balcony that spanned the length of the wall, overlooking the first floor, and leading to two rooms: the bathroom and the bedroom.
One bedroom.
With one bed.
Upon seeing it, she didn’t know whether to laugh or curse. The mahogany headboard was seamlessly attached to a massive storage unit that wrapped half the room with little cabinets and cubbies on either side. There were two posters at the foot of the bed that were more like columns, possibly load-bearing because the room was so big. There were two separate sitting areas. The one to the back of the room was snug and clearly meant to be used when one needed to steal some quiet time. The other was near the tall windows and resembled the one on the first floor with its large plush white sofa and two matching chairs that were slightly gray in color to offset the white. Beyond that, a fully stocked bar was nestled against the wall.
As expected, the bathroom was just as opulent. The shower was large, with several perfectly angled showerheads set into the ceiling and walls. After grabbing her satchel full of clothes, she eagerly stripped. With Knox gone, it was the perfect opportunity to wash up. Still chilled from their wild embarking, she blasted the hot water. An array of soaps and shampoos lined the shelf. She used them liberally as the massaging showerheads soothed her aching muscles.
Even though there was a separate entrance to the bedroom for privacy, she didn’t exit till she had dried off and fully redressed.
She had packed hectically, and had gone for comfortable as opposed to functional, also deciding she wouldn’t want to bring anything that might entice Knox. She didn’t know what might entice a man like him, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t the plain gray t-shirt and sweatpants she had stolen from Mace’s closet. She didn’t realize until she stepped out onto the balcony that he had other plans for her.
“What the hell is this?” She gazed down at the racks of clothing that now took up space in the formal seating area. A steward was helping Knox into a black sports coat, saying in a nasally voice, “Just lovely, sir,” as he brushed off his broad shoulders.
Knox glanced up at her and frowned, glowering at her outfit. “I’m taking you out.”
She cocked her head.
“It’s going to be a long trip. We’ll need clothes, don’t you think? And we’ll need to blend in if we’re going to freely enjoy the rest of the ship. That…” He eyed her up and down, “won’t do.” He paused. “Unless you prefer to spend all out time here, cozying up to one another. Your choice.”
With that, she traipsed downstairs and perused the selection. The clothes, mostly evening gowns, was reminiscent of her time with Winston, except these items were a little more risqué. She didn’t think that was an accident. Finally, she pulled out a dark-blue dress that appeared to offer the most coverage. Knox snorted, then selected for her a short black dress that could easily pass as a top.
She was about to protest, but the look he gave her said she’d be trying it on no matter what. Gritting her teeth, she snatched it out of his grip, but didn’t relinquish her first choice, and headed back upstairs to change.
“You’ll model each of those for me,” he called after her. It wasn’t even a request.
In the bedroom, she debated what to do. Knox was determined to have his way with her. She was determined not to let him. Dressing up for him would not help her cause, but she couldn’t very well wander the ship in sweatpants the whole trip…could she? She would definitely attract undue attention, especially if people saw such an obvious commoner exit The Grand Wescott Stateroom. Wealthy people were unbelievably nosy when it came to things like that, and they loved a spectacle. They consumed intrigue for breakfast. People would gossip, start to ask questions, which would bring unwanted attention, and could potentially cause problems. With their unorthodox boarding, were their names even on the ship’s manifest? The last thing they needed was an investigation.
She shrugged out of her baggy clothes and slipped the first dress over her head. If she thought it would be more modest, she was only a little right. The front slashed across her collarbone, fully covering her neck and chest, but left her shoulders bare as the excess fabric draped down her back like a scarf and framed a deep V that stopped just above where her spine curved into her backside. Moreover, the long slit in the front of the skirt flared as she walked, showing a good deal of leg. She checked herself in the mirror, turning, surprised by how elegant the gown made her look.
What would Knox think?
She got the impression he expected to hate it.
Well, he was about to be surprised.
Wait, why did she care?
Steeling herself, she stepped out onto the balcony.
Knox was casually touching the collar of another sports coat, but when he glanced up, he did a double take. She swallowed, her heart giving a kick.
Goddess of light and dark! She couldn’t possibly want him to like it!
His lip spread in a devilish grin and heat fired in his gaze. Even though he hadn’t yet seen the back, she could almost feel his touch along her spine.
She shivered, and broke eye contact. If this was how her body reacted to a simple hungry gaze, how was she going to hold out for the entire trip?
* * *
Knox couldn’t seem to kick-start his brain into coherent thought. With her in that sleek gown, her damp blond tendrils clinking to parts of her neck, and the sinful glimpse of her milky thighs, all he could think about was driving into her, her pleasure-filled cries in his ear. She swallowed as if knowing the direction of his thoughts, and dragged her gaze away, her cheeks flushing.
She was gorgeous, damn her, and she knew it.
When she turned to hurry into the room, he hissed in a breath at her sleek bare back and the way that fabric hugged her succulent ass.
“Now the other one,” he called before the door closed, barely keeping the growl from his tone.
A light sheen of sweat dotted his forehead in anticipation. His already stiff cock jerked in his trousers, and he had to struggle to keep his fangs in check. The tailor tried to continue his fussing, showing him an array of button-downs that would go nicely with his other selections. He nodded absently, but his eyes were trained on the bedroom door.
When it cracked open, she poked her head out, looking nervous. Her blush had deepened. Oh, this was going to be good.
“Let me see,” he ordered.
She blew a loose tendril out of her face, exhaled a harsh sigh, and then stepped out of the room.
His mouth went dry, and he had to lock his knees to keep upright. How could she be so fucking sexy? If she smiled at him now, she might just knock him on his ass. Lucky for him, she appeared too perturbed for that.
“This couldn’t possibly help us to ‘blend in’,” she groused.
No, even among the selection of beautiful females on this flight, she would stand out. Spaghetti straps held up a sweetheart neckline, offering a generous amount of cleavage. The silky fabric hugged every curve like the dress had been poured on. She self-consciously ran the front of her bare foot over the back of her other leg, drawing his eyes down. The hem of the dress made it past her ass, but just barely.
His throat went dry, and he realized he was positively starving.
“We’ll need baubles,” he told the tailor without looking at him.
“Of course, I can have someone—”
“Go, now.” He knew his tone was harsh and menacing, but it couldn’t be helped.
Startled, the tailor sputtered, “Yes, of course,” and hurried out the door.
Cora’s eyes darted after him. “What are you doing?”
He couldn’t trust himself to speak as he prowled up the stairs, not taking his eyes from her as though she’d get away the moment he did.
* * *
Cora stepped back from the banister and fidgeted with her hair. “A-are we going out now?” she stammered, registering how nervous she sounded.
No reply from the vampire stalking her. He made it to the top of the stairs and started for her. She glanced around, looking for an escape, but there was none. He would just follow her into the bedroom…where the bed was.
She should be scared, but something else entirely started strumming through her.
“Knox, just calm down.” She put her hands up in a halting gesture.
He closed in, hovering over her. His musky scent invaded her brain, dulling her mind. She breathed him in, closing her eyes. Lust stirred, wild and reckless within her.
He snatched her right hand and brought it flat against his chest. The soft material of his white shirt teased her fingertips, hinting at the sculpted muscle underneath.
Her eyes popped open. His gaze was fierce. Though people had once assumed vampires didn’t have a heartbeat, his was drumming, same as hers.
Confused, she glanced up.
“You have me wound up like a bloody teenager, witch.” He raked her body with his gaze.
Unintentionally, she licked her lips. He groaned, following the movement. The purely masculine sound shot straight to her core. Her breaths turned clipped as he moved in even closer. She should put a stop to this right now.
His hand shot out and lightly gripped the back of her neck. “What are you doing to me?”
She could ask the same of him.
“It is impossible for anyone to be this sexy.” He plunged, taking her lips in a brutal kiss, not asking, but demanding. The hard length of his body pressed against her. She could tell how turned on he was, and something in her thrilled that she could make him lose control like this.
Then she cursed herself. She shouldn’t be enjoying this.
His strong hand wrapped her waist, then dipped to run over her backside.
Without even a cursory pause, he grabbed the hem of her skirt, yanking it up to palm her flesh with both hands.
A betraying moan shot from her lungs. He swallowed it with his kiss, then growled, “So fucking perfect. Made just for my hands.” He pressed his thigh between her legs, and she had the sudden urge to rock her hips and find that delicious friction.
She was losing her mind!
Regaining some of her sanity, she broke free of his kiss, managing to gasp, “Knox, I—”
“Don’t stop this, cher,” he practically begged. There was a kind of torment in his eyes that nearly broke her. That look had no place in his ruthless features. What was it doing there?
His grip on her backside turned brutal, but it was oddly pleasurable, drowning her in lust once more. His lips claimed hers again, stealing the last of her rational thought. She could only pant around his savage kiss.
Then his seeking fingers dipped between her legs. She tensed.
He breathed, “So fucking wet for me. You like me when I take charge?”
She wanted to deny it, but she couldn’t argue. Not with the evidence her body was presenting.
She was about to push him away—like, any second now—when he snuck under the lining of her panties and found her clitoris. She gasped at the sharp pleasure. He worked her with such masterful precision her mind clouded, and she forgot why this was such a bad idea.
Her head fell back on a moan.
“There’s my girl.”
“Would you stop talking,” she growled, her body now demanding release. For her, there had always been a point of no return when it came to sex, and with Knox’s help, she’d just reached it.
He chucked, watching her with hooded eyes as his fingers made ruthless circles around the most sensitive part of her sex. Her hips undulated as she tried to stifle the desperate sounds escaping her lips.
Conflicting emotions rioted inside her. This is so wrong! Don’t want it to stop!
As if sensing her wavering, his mouth dipped to her neck. At the sensation of his fangs grazing her skin, she went wild and gripped his nape. So wrong. Need more.
“Do it,” she whispered, wanting, no needing to use it as an excuse when she finally came. She was so close.
“Come for me,” he demanded, driving his thick finger into her.
Her back arched on a harsh scream, her orgasm flaring through her and lighting up her every cell, giving her that perfect moment of white-hot ecstasy that overshadowed everything else in existence.
She cried out from the wicked pleasure and the terrible defeat.
She hadn’t even lasted a day.
She slumped in his arms, panting against his shoulder.
“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? A little bitty orgasm and I have you purring like a kitten.” The sound of a zipper reverberated in her head. He lifted her arm from around his neck—when had she put it there?—and brought it down to fist his cock. “My turn, cher.”
Reason swept back in like a tsunami. She leapt away from him like she was a flame and he was gasoline. With jerky, self-conscious movements, she shimmied her dress back into place.
He growled and reached out for her, but something in her expression halted him. The hunger in his gaze died, replaced by that cold, callous demeanor. “You plan to leave me like this?” He looked at her as if she were the most evil tease.
“I didn’t start this!”
“You certainly made sure to get off before you stopped it.”
“That wasn’t my fault.” She was sure her entire body was red with embarrassment.
“My fault you were riding my fingers like a wanton—?”
“Enough!” She slammed her palms over her ears. “I didn’t want that! I don’t want you!”
On a frustrated bellow, he threw his hands in the air. “You are determined to torture me, then?”
“I don’t…That’s not my intention. I can’t just jump into bed with you. I’m not built like you.”
“What do you mean like me?” There was something dangerous in his eyes.
She met his gaze head on. “Able to sleep with someone you hate.”
He glared for a moment, and a thick tension bloomed between them. Then, without another word, he turned and stomped into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Seconds later, the shower turned on.
She stood for a moment, surprised by his retreat, that he didn’t stay to push her further. With lust still surfing her veins, she wasn’t sure she could resist him if he did.
You plan to leave me like this? The words had been steeped in such thick accusation, as if she were the one to blame for his discomfort. As if he couldn’t go out and vamp-up some unsuspecting female for a quick tryst. The man coursed with such animal sexuality. There weren’t many who would deny him.
As though needing to punish herself, she imagined his gloriously naked flesh under all those showerheads. She clenched the fist that had touched him so intimately, still able to feel the phantom of his hard length in her palm.
She shook her head. She was still having a hard time thinking straight.
He’d said he was taking her out. After what had just happened, the last thing they needed was a quasi-date. So while he showered, she tore off her dress and donned the blue one—the one that hadn’t invoked such a primal response—snatched a pair of sensible heels from the tailor’s unclaimed stash, and slipped quietly out the door.