With Every Breath (Sea Swept #2) by Valerie Chase Read Free Book Online Page B

down and gives me a rum-flavored kiss. “So I came in.”  
    I must’ve been so exhausted that I didn’t check to make sure the door latched. Camelia obviously took it as an invitation.  
    “Look,“ I say. I’m about to push her off and escort her back to her cabin when she pulls off her silver dress, revealing nothing but a pair of lacey black panties underneath. Her long hair tumbles over her shoulders and naked breasts. Before I can move, she positions herself over my boxer-briefs, straddling me. I groan, because it feels great and she looks amazing, but she’s drunk, and I’m her boss. “Camelia, you—”
    “Enough talking,” she says, and places my hands on her full breasts while she grinds on top of me. “You want this. I know you do.”  
    I grunt in return. My body does want this. I told Charlie the truth earlier—I haven’t been with anyone since Letta left two months ago. Now with Camelia here, ready and willing, I realize how starved I am.
    My eyes shut. God, a one-night stand wouldn’t be so bad … except instead of Camelia, my thoughts drift to someone else. A dark, tousled ponytail. Sexy legs in impractical heels. The curve of her waist as she danced …
    “You like this?” Camelia whispers, her words slightly slurred.  
    My eyes snap open. Damn it, what the hell is the matter with me?  
    I grab Camelia’s hand to stop her.  
    “We’re not doing this,” I say, despite the protests of my body. Maybe I’ll regret not letting this happen, but even I’m not enough of an ass as to sleep with a drunk girl while fantasizing about her roommate.
    “But I—” Then Camelia breaks off, and in the glow of the alarm clock I see her expression turn. She mutters something in Romanian, lurches off me and flees into the bathroom. I hear her retch into the toilet.
    I get dressed, and when Camelia’s done, though she insists she’s fine, I help her put her dress back on and walk her back to her cabin. She rarely seems to remember drunken antics the morning after, so hopefully we’ll just be able to pretend this never happened.
    “You have your room key?” I ask when we reach her cabin. She gives me a sultry smirk, marred only slightly by her rumpled hair.
    “It’s in my dress somewhere,” she says challengingly. “Try to find it.”
    I sigh, reaching past her to knock on the cabin door. Camelia pouts, then tilts sideways, and I put an arm around her shoulders to keep her upright. I’m about to knock on the door again when it opens.
    “Do you know what time …” Yasmin trails off, blinking at us.  
    She’s wearing silky pajama pants and a tank top that leaves her shoulders bare. The fabric falls lovingly across her curves, and when I see the hint of a nipple I silently curse, because I’m getting hard again.  
    Yasmin’s eyes narrow.  
    “You’re not the kind of guy who lets his conquests stay the night?” she mutters. “Why am I not surprised?”
    My jaw drops, but as Camelia nuzzles me I realize what this must look like. “Hey, she was the one who—” I start, but Yasmin cuts me off.
    “None of my business. Thanks for bringing her home, at least.” She slips out of her room, slides an arm around Camelia’s waist, and maneuvers her through the door. “I’ll take it from here,” she calls, and nudges the door shut with her foot.
    I stare at their room number, annoyance washing over me. For some reason it bugs me that Yasmin thinks I hooked up with Camelia and then kicked her out. It shouldn’t—why should I care about my new hire’s opinion?  
    Turning, I stalk back to my stateroom. I make sure that my door is closed, and locked , before I fall back onto bed.  
    Jesus, what a night.  
    I stare up at the blank ceiling, wishing for sleep to overtake me, but now I’m wide awake. It also doesn’t help that I’m still as hard as a rock. Rolling onto my side, I run over my agenda for tomorrow and think about on how much we need to bring in at Formal Night. Soon