“It’s all so black and white for you,” she said simply.
Charlie held her bottom lip between her teeth as she looked into the face of the man she loved. His handsome visage looked back at her with compassion in his steely blue eyes, his eyebrows coming up and together.
Gently, he tugged at her lip with his thumb until she released it.
“Charlie,” Jaxon whispered as he lowered his mouth to hers. He kissed her in short pecks at first, each kiss getting progressively longer until he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. His tongue made tentative forays between her lips until her tongue met his. He pulled her against his body holding her tightly, as if he didn’t want to let her go. He couldn’t get her close enough.
“I want you,” he murmured. “God help me, I still want you.”
She wanted him, too, but she’d never admit it, not when he said he didn’t love her.
Jaxon slid his hand down until he reached the curve of her bottom. His hand explored the firm shape of it and he heard her soft gasp as his hand followed the crevice between her legs towards the sensitive nub. Perhaps if he could bring her to the brink, he could convince her to do the right thing. He continued kissing her, touching her over her clothing in all the places he knew he shouldn’t until her breath came in quick, shallow pants and she began pulling at his dressing robe.
“Baby, I can’t,” Jaxon breathed as she ground her body into his erection. “I can’t make love to you unless I know you’ll let me make it right.”
His mouth may have spoken the words. He may have even meant them on some basic level, but his body only knew it hungered for her and he didn’t want to stop.
“Shut up, Jaxon,” Charlie said wrapping her arms around his neck trying to pull his head down where she could reengage the kiss. “One more time will make no difference.”
A moment later, he stepped away from her. “I would have never made love to you if we weren’t to be married. I still won’t. It’s one thing to be a week or two ahead of the preacher; it’s another to take advantage of your naïveté.”
Charlie gaped at him, her hand at her parted lips as she tried to catch her breath. “That is the most contrary thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” She pulled her clothing to make sure they were in order. “Land rules,” she muttered and made a hasty departure.
31
Morty could see she was upset when she returned. She barely touched her breakfast. The crew always dined well when in port; fresh milk, fresh eggs, fruit, buttermilk biscuits and pork chops. It was so much better than the salt meat or fish and root vegetables with ships’ biscuits or soup made of the same ingredients which were the usual fare for the crew. The officers were the only ones who drank milk from the goat or ate eggs from chickens at sea. When they killed a chicken, Charlie was lucky to get the wings and liver as the captain, doctor and first mate always took healthy shares first.
Normally, Morty could draw Charlie out of a bad mood. But not today. When he tried, Charlie stood up, shoved her mostly uneaten plate at him and disappeared down the corridor in the direction of her cabin. Morty shoveled his food into his mouth, but slipped her plate towards the other men who swooped down on it as if starving.
As soon as he finished he cleared his plate and Charlie’s now empty plate and hurried after her. He knocked on her door. “Charlie, it’s me. May I come in?”
He heard the lock turned before she opened it. Morty didn’t know what he would do if she was crying since he’d never had to deal with a crying Charlie before. She wasn’t.
“Leave it open,” she said before he could shut it.
“I take it your visit didn’t go well?”
Charlie shook her head. “I could live to be a hundred years old and I will not understand land rules. This must have been what it was like for you when you joined the crew.”
Morty knew he was slow to grasp new things and Charlie was usually leaps and bounds ahead of him. So how could she struggled to understand? And if Charlie could not understand, how could he?
“You were brought up on land. Maybe you can explain it to me.”
“You know I’m not good at explaining things,” he said, not sure he wanted to hear about her quarrel.
“Jaxon told me he doesn’t love me, but he still feels obligated to marry me.”
A scowl crossed Morty’s countenance as he realized what she was implying. “I’m going to kill the son-of-a-bitch if he compromised you.”
“No!” Charlie was between Morty and the doorway in an instant, her hands momentarily pressed against his chest. “I’m as much to blame as he is.”