Page 15 of Not that Sea-Rious

Marissa

S omehow, Marissa had gone the entire day without running into Beau.

She struggled with her disappointment about it.

On one hand, she kept telling herself it was a single occurrence, not repeat performances, and she was happy about that, but on the other, he was funny and adorable—not to mention talented.

Why wouldn’t she want to meet up with him again?

There was a serious shortage of guys who knew what they were doing in bed.

She shouldn’t be so quick to write him off.

Doing her best to maintain interest in the horror stories Joyce and Tina were telling to terrify—no, prepare; they said prepare —Carolyn for her wedding, Marissa sipped at her dinner wine.

Every so often, her mind would wander to the view of Beau’s freckled abs or his bright smile and the feel of his stubble against her thighs while she rode his face.

As the heat crept up from between her legs into her cheeks, she cleared her throat and forced the thoughts from her mind, which drew the attention of her friends.

“You okay?” Carolyn asked.

“It might be the escargot,” Joyce suggested. “It hasn’t been sitting right with me either.” She covered her stomach with her hand. “I’ve never been good with exotic foods.”

“Then why did you eat it?” Tina asked.

“You don’t have to try everything ,” Carolyn offered.

Joyce lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “I don’t know. I’m on vacation. Aren’t I supposed to be adventurous?”

Rolling her eyes, Tina turned her attention to Marissa. “So, what’s up with you?”

Again, Marissa’s cheeks flushed. Only this time, it wasn’t because of Beau. It was because she’d been caught sulking about it. Totally not the same thing. “Nothing. A little wine went down the wrong pipe is all.”

Carolyn nodded. “Okay, what are we doing tonight?”

“There’s a comedy show after dinner.” Joyce perked up.

“We did well at the roulette wheel the other day,” Tina reminded them. “We could always visit them again.”

This was her chance. Marisa shimmied her shoulders and sat up straighter. This was the perfect opportunity for her to pitch a chance for her to wear her fabulous dress.

“Great options,” she began. “But we’ve just spent the day in the sun. We are super tan. I say we get gussied up in our finest and hit the nightclub.”

Carolyn pointed in her direction, wearing a broad smile. “We have a winner.” She leaned on her elbows over the table. “I have to make sure none of you are going to embarrass me on the dance floor at the reception,” she teased.

“Get ready for disappointment,” Tina mumbled into her cocktail.

“What are you talking about?” Joyce turned toward Tina. “You danced beautifully at your wedding.”

Tina chuckled. “Yeah, because Cynthia made me take lessons beforehand. It was all scripted, and I’ve forgotten the steps.”

“Okay, well then, now we have to,” Carolyn said as she rose to her feet. “We may need to get you some lessons. We are running out of time.”

“But”—Joyce looked between them—“the comedian.”

Carolyn flittered her hand. “Another night.”

Beau

Making the best of a bad situation was Beau’s motto for the evening—hell, the cruise in general.

So, he decided a fun game would be to sample every martini the ship had on every menu.

He tried all the choices, from a classic vodka martini to his favorite chocolate, as well as an espresso martini, cosmopolitan, and everything in between.

He was feeling no pain as he swayed his way through the decks.

Furrowing his brows, Beau turned in a circle, realizing he hadn’t been on this part of the ship before.

At least, not during normal hours. Flashing lights and a repetitive thumping beat came from an opening.

The club music intrigued him, and he bopped his head along with it as he sipped at his sour apple martini and ducked inside.

Beau wasn’t the best dancer in the world, but he could hold his own when he had to. The martinis in his system were definitely helping him in the rhythm department. Well, in his mind, they were. For all he knew, people watching him thought he looked like he had a seizure.

Eh. No one around him seemed concerned. So, he kept on bobbing his head and bopping as he finished the final ’tini. What to drink next?

Surveying the other dancers, he noted most of the men held bottles in their hands.

He wrinkled his nose at that idea. Nope.

He wasn’t a beer drinker. The women, though, they had the fancy hurricane glasses.

Maybe he should mix it up. He’d had all the martinis the ship offered. What other choice did he have?

Decision made. A sharp right had him weaving through the other club-goers with the crowded bar in his sights. Scanning up and down, he hoped to find an opening to squeeze into when he arrived.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, he spotted her. Stumbling as he went, Beau nearly tripped over his own jaw as it fell at the sight of Marissa. She’d pulled her long, straight chestnut hair in a bit of a twist, making her neck look that much longer and very bitable—if he were into that sort of thing.

The short black dress with the lace overlay clung to the dangerous curves of her body, accentuating her generous and grabbable hips. When she turned, his dick rose. She’d painted her lips with a luscious ruby color, and they begged him for a kiss.

Though the actual showstopper was the scalloped lacing along the deep V of her neckline. It plunged so deep into her ample cleavage it met the thick black belt cinching in her waist. There was no possible way she had a bra on. Yet her breasts were as perky as the twenty-something beside her.

This woman made his mouth water.

With a mind of their own, led by his cock, Beau’s feet carried him on over to her, despite there being no space at the bar near her.

He’d make it work. Besides, she had one of those pretty hurricane glasses in her hand.

It even had a nifty little umbrella and cherry decorating it.

He definitely wanted whatever she was having.