She’s rich, I can see that. And I guess it makes sense, she is a sweet, innocent girl on a fancy-ass cruise, probably sheltered as hell.
“You can’t drink white wine at a bar like this. You need some beer. Something light? Dark?” I don’t want to assume I know what kind of beer Alice likes-- and I’m not one of those fuckers who tells a woman what to do outside of the bedroom.
She shrugs. “Light?”
I nod. “Two Rainier’s,” I tell Grady. I place an order for a couple burgers and fries as well, and she sits with her hands folded, suddenly prim and proper, not at all like she was below deck... where she shed her fears and her clothes within minutes of meeting me.
In this environment, she’s been brought back to reality. As if our time in my boat was just a little dream.
Now, with her clothes back on, we’re faced with a different sort of truth.
We already know that our bodies understand one another, and I swear her eyes tell me a story that I understand too... but that isn’t enough.
I learned my lesson with Sheila. People aren’t always what you think. And I need to understand what kind of girl Alice is when she puts on her clothes. As much as I like the idea of spending more time fucking her below deck, I know that’s not realistic before I at least know a little more about her.
“So, I’m pretty sure you figured out I am a fisherman, considering my rig. But I want to know about you.”
Alaska and Seattle aren’t that far considering she could have been from fucking Florida. “What do you do in Seattle?” I ask.
She purses her lips together, and I can tell she isn’t a girl who likes to talk about herself. Guess I’ll have to ease her out of her shell.
“I just want to get to know you. I mean, we certainly learned a lot already,” I start, running my hand over her back. “But I want to know everything.”
She looks in my eyes, and when she does, I see her shoulders immediately drop, her breathing returns to normal. It’s like when she looks at me she’s more comfortable in her own skin.
And it makes me hard as hell.
Damn, this woman is doing things to me she doesn’t even realize.
“I am a cellist. Right now I still live with my parents, but I’m auditioning in a few weeks for a spot in the Seattle Symphony. If I get it, I’ll finally have some independence. If I’m earning a salary, they can’t exactly hold me hostage any longer.”
“Hostage?” I say that word that struck me the most, even though the rest of it does too. Damn, Alice is a cellist.
It doesn’t take much to imagine her with her legs spread apart and a big cello between them. Her hand running her bow back and forth, fingering the strings, creating melodies that stir a crowd.
Hell, she’s stirring me just thinking about it.
I can see it. I can see that softer, yet dramatic side of her. Alice is a musician.
“Maybe hostage is a tad strong,” she says. “I just think they’ve gotten used to the idea of bossing me around.”
“They?”
Alice looks into my eyes. “They meaning my parents and sister. They make the decisions for me, and I never fight back, but I’d be lying if I told you I haven’t resented them for a long time. Today, though, I had enough. That’s why I’m out alone now, away from their watchful eye.”
I nod trying to piece this version of Alice with the one I just experienced for the last several hours. The Alice who knew what she wanted and took it. She had desires and made them known.
The idea that her family would ever squash her personal choices kills me.
I don’t want to upset her, though, so I attempt a more lighthearted approach.
“I see, so you fucked me to get back at your daddy?”
Color rises to Alice’s cheeks. She shakes her head, flustered. “I’m not trying to get back at anybody. Besides, my parents will never know about this. They can never know about you. Never. They’d be furious. They have a guy all picked out for me.” Her voice is so adamant, that I raise my hands in defense.
“Understood,” I say, even though I don’t understand at all. “So you wanted this to be a one-time thing?”
“Wasn’t that what you wanted?” Alice asks, reaching for her napkin and unfolding it in her lap. I watch as she carefully cuts her hamburger in two and brings one-half to her mouth. I don’t know what it is about those lips of hers, but I could watch them all day long.
“It sounds like you want a one-night stand,” I say, finishing my beer and ordering another round. This conversation suddenly became personal. Truth is, hearing her talk about another man has gotten me unnerved. I don’t want her with anyone else. I only want her with me.