I dare to think I’m good at guessing what women think. The moment my eyes landed on Grace Anderson I knew she was attracted to me. I saw it from the way her Bambi eyes widened, her plum lips parted as though to let out a sigh. I saw it in the way she moved. I also knew instantly that she’s one of those insecure women with no freaking idea how gorgeous they are. I have to say, that turns me on. Nothing is more thrilling than helping hidden beauties peel back the layers to reveal gold beneath.

She means for those baggy clothes to hide her curves, but I see them just fine, baby. Her yoga poses give me a glimpse of enough firm ass and round breasts to know she’s hiding something exquisite.

I lean back against the wall and watch her until she reopens her eyes. I continue our conversation.

“I’m assuming you work here?” I quirk an eyebrow and inject just enough lust in my tone, enough for her to understand my dirty intentions but not to scare her away. She only needs to trust me enough to allow me access into her panties.

I shift as my dick hardens at the thought of what she’s hiding under the layers of unflattering workout clothing.

Most women I’ve fucked were easy. But I get the inkling this one is different. My mind is warning me to be cautious. She’s the kind that needs kid gloves. But experience has taught me it’s the shy ones who, once unleashed, are insatiable. I have the feeling she’s one of a kind—the kind worth the effort.

The one thing many men get wrong is thinking there’s a ‘one size fits all’ strategy to getting into a girl’s panties. I know better and I get rewarded, more often than not, with them riding my cock so hard you’d think it’s their only mission in life.

“I do.” Her voice is soft, cautious. She’s questioning my intentions. She unknowingly bats those big brown eyes. My balls strain almost to the point of pain. Does she see the bulge in my shorts? She can’t, because her eyes are searching mine. I settle on a wooden bench, legs wide apart. I’ve got nothing to hide.

If she decides to take her gaze down south, I won’t try to conceal the proof of what she’s doing to me. The woman is clearly in desperate need of a dose of confidence. Seeing her effect on me might do the trick and speed up the process from flirting to fucking.

She moistens her lip. “Where on the ship do you work?”

She has no idea who I am. How would she? When I introduced myself earlier, I’d left my surname out intentionally. There’s no need for her to know, yet, that I’m Bryant LaClaire, the owner of the ship and one of the heirs to a multi-billion dollar inheritance. When I’m interested in a woman, I prefer to leave the billions out of the equation early on. I’ve had chicks fuck me for my money. That pisses me off. My bank accounts may be loaded but I hate when my skills in the bedroom are overshadowed by dollar bills.

Some years ago, I was just another rich kid, but the death of my parents in a plane crash ten years ago had shifted things inside me. They left a hole inside my heart so big not even the cash they left behind could fill it completely. Sure, my brothers and I can live the dream, pursue our individual business ventures with no hindrance, but even success in business is not enough for me. Lots of sex brings me closer to feeling whole, but only until the sexual drug wears off.

“I work in administration.” I cover the naked lie with a smirk that comes so easily to my lips. “Nothing special. Boring paperwork all day. I hope your job is more exciting.”

She tucks a curly strand of hair behind her ear before I’m tempted to go and do it for her, an excuse to get close to her again, to touch her smooth, pale skin, to steal another whiff of her intoxicating perfume. I want to wrap my hands around the thick braid and unravel it, freeing her lush hair. I long to mess up her locks, to pollute her innocent mind and body.

“I’m a masseuse.” She leans against the stack of yoga mats. “The spa will be my second home, I guess.”

“Mind a visit from me sometime?” I inject a little sex to my tone and watch in appreciation as her pale skin colors.

She peels her eyes from mine but not before I see something in them, something resembling pain. My suspicions are confirmed by the cloud on her features when she looks back at me. Someone did a number on her. She brought a heart filled with hurt on my ship.

“Sure.” She smiles. “Anyone is allowed to stop by.”

Shit. Getting her in the sack might not be a great idea after all. She might be looking for someone to love her again, someone romantic and upstanding to piece her back together. That’s not my specialty. My intentions are of the impure kind. If she’s looking for someone to fuck her for more than a few nights, I’m not the guy. Fun with no strings attached is all I’m interested in. I’m neither ashamed nor secretive about it. My conquests always know what to expect before I bury myself into their pussies.

I can’t toy with this one. I like taking what I want but I do have a conscience.

Grace turns away, heading for one of the treadmills on the far end of the room. She knows we’d be a bad idea. She has read my body language. Now she’s running, looking for an escape, a distraction.

“Maybe I will.” I return to my workout, my cock pulsing with disappointment.

Before I can start lifting again I look at her for what I hope to be the last time today, only to find her having trouble with programming the treadmill, which is racing way too fast even before she gets up on it. Her panting is audible all the way to where I’m standing as she pushes buttons in a flurry.

The girl has no clue how to work a treadmill. She must be new to exercising and I’m a pro. It would be cruel to watch her make a fool of herself without doing something about it. Helping a girl in need doesn’t have to mean anything. Just one colleague assisting another. According to her, I’m one of them. Surely I can help her without expecting anything in return, right?

“Hang on there.” I approach her. “Let me give you a hand. That monster can be tricky sometimes.”

“Thanks.” She smiles and steps back, dots of color on her cheeks.

Ignoring the scent of her perfume, I brief her on the buttons and other features of the machine. She nods and does what I tell her. The only negative is our arms which keep getting tangled, our hands brushing.

Every freaking time our skins touch, I burn up inside. How the hell am I supposed to keep my promise to myself? I can’t stay away from her. I want to, but I also don’t. The girl is driving me insane, even with her clothes on.

“Thank you again.” Her voice is a husky whisper. She feels it too—the electric spark.

Now what the fuck do I do? If she were any other girl, I’d take her to one of the empty changing rooms and fuck her brains out. Or even right there on her yoga mat. But she makes me pause. I seriously doubt she’s that type of girl.

“Sure, no problem.” I fold my arms in front of my chest to restrain my hands before they reach out to touch her breast or something equally enticing. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need help with. I’m well acquainted with all these guys.” I wave a hand at the other machines.

She smiles and steps onto the treadmill. As she raises a leg, her baggy yoga pants strain against her ass.

Damn. Just what I need. “Well, I better go finish up. Have fun.” I hurry away before she can form a response.

It’s a struggle continuing to pump weights with a damn erection between my legs, and the sound of her breathing filling the room, driving me all kinds of crazy. She tempts me to think about everything I want to do to her, the things I want to teach her. She looks like she needs more than a lesson in handling machines. My mind refuses to stop seeing her naked.

The weights drop to the floor with a thud.

Time to subtract myself from the equation. Doing something stupid is not in my plans.

I head for the door but the moment I fill the doorway, I stop. I can’t walk away. Who knows, maybe after whatever bad experience she’s had, right now she might be on the search for pleasure with no strings attached. There’s a chance we both want the same thing. My dick tells me it would be a mistake to leave without finding out. The woman is one hell of a magnet.

I’m tempted to go ask for a way to contact her. Sure, it would be simple to look up her room number and show up later, but I’m no stalker. I wouldn’t want to bring things to a screeching halt before they get started. Asking a woman for her number had never been a problem before. So, why am I hesitating? Why the fuck am I hovering in the doorway like an idiot?

She might reject me and I don’t have much experience on how to handle that. The past few years, when I desired a woman, I got her, no questions asked. Many times there was no need for the exchange of numbers. Looks like with Grace, though, I have to do things the old fashioned way.

I tighten my hands around both ends of the towel hanging from my neck. “How about a drink sometime?”

Was that all I could come up with? I sounded like a high school kid asking the popular girl in class out on a date. “I mean, you know, we’re stuck on this ship for six weeks. We might as well be friends. Friends share drinks sometimes.” What the fuck? Well, too late now.

She chews the corner of her lip for a few seconds before she nods. “I’d like that.”

“Can I have your number? This is a large ship, after all.”

She steps off the treadmill, sweeps a towel across her forehead and tells me the most beautiful set of numbers.

“Right, thanks.” I turn to leave but she calls my name.

“Don’t you need to write the number down or something?”

“No.” I wink. “I have a good memory. I’ll give you a call.”

“All right then.” She frowns and lifts her chin a fraction. She wants to look like a confident, unbruised woman though she fails miserably. But at least she looks damn cute trying. Once I get her in my bed she’ll forget all her insecurities.

“Have a great evening.” I disappear through the door.

When I’m a safe distance from the gym, I mop the sweat from my forehead and head to the employee dining hall.

Every time one of my ships embarks on a new journey and I’m present, I always make a speech to the staff, a way to get them motivated. Happy employees, happy guests, happy Bryant. Nothing wrong with me acting like everyone’s friend, unless the shit hits the fan. Either way, my employees reflect the reputation of my businesses. The ship’s captain addresses the guests and I take care of the crew’s egos.

It’s a little disappointing that Grace is not present. She must have missed the memo. But it’s fine. The less she knows about me at the beginning, the better. Sooner or later she will find out but that’s okay. She didn’t look like a gold-digger.

The dining room goes quiet the moment I enter and everyone looks up to stare at the boss in workout gear. Some might think it’s not professional, but I don’t give a damn tonight. Tonight I want to be relaxed. Tomorrow I’ll get back into one of my charcoal, designer tailored suits.

I step up onto the small stage area and give them a grin, making eye contact with everyone from the highest to the lowest rank. My father taught me well. People need to know they’re seen and appreciated to do their best work.

“Good evening, everybody. It’s nice to see you all here. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Bryant LaClaire, but go ahead and call me Bryant.” I meet the eye of one of the employees, a tall, dark-haired waitress with high cheekbones. Normally, she would be one of my targets, one of the ladies to please me on this long journey. I turn away from her and look at everyone as a whole. The usual thrill is missing from my veins.

As I wrap up my speech, I try to imagine some of them naked, but the only face I see, the only body that comes to mind is that of the woman with the long braid and Bambi eyes.

I tell myself it means nothing. I’m only more excited about her because she’s a bit of a challenge. Once I get her into my bed, I’ll move on to others with no problem. Maybe I’ll even come back to the raven-haired beauty.

Applause breaks out once I conclude my speech, I get off the stage and head to the bar. I need a drink. Normally, that’s where I meet the first lady of the night, one of the women who had been fawning over me during the speech. But tonight, all I need is a stiff drink to screw my head on straight.

Several of the ladies get in my face, vying for my attention, but I talk to them as a boss would and they skulk away in surprise. My employees know I love beautiful women and I’ve slept with most of them. It’s my ship and I can do what I like.

I exchange words with several of them—both men and women—then I finish my vodka martini and say goodnight. For the first time on a ship’s maiden voyage, I go to bed alone.