Pleasure Cruise #2
The Raven Books
April 2012
On Sale: March 29, 2012
Featuring: Christian; Andre; Anna
110 pages ISBN: 162501001X EAN: 9781625010018 Kindle: B009S1GNQ2 e-Book (reprint) Add to Wish List
"Don't you read the news, Winter? Do you know what kind
of diseases are on cruise ships? They're like floating
viruses, breeding grounds for any sickness you could
imagine. My goodness, if they don't kill you with
communicable diseases transmitted from person to person,
the food will get you. I shudder to think how many forms of
hepatitis could be contracted on this thing. Don't even get
me started on restaurants at each port. You never know...
Winter rolled her eyes behind Anna's
designer–suit–clad back and mimicked her
talking. Her friend hadn't shut up about the cruise since
she'd won it on the game show. Looking at the giant ship at
port, along the Texas coastline, she didn't see Anna's
floating virus. She saw a portal to fun. The blue ocean and
warm, salty air beckoned them out to sea. Though they would
sail around the Caribbean, the ship schedule didn't show
them docking at any island ports—or so Anna said as
Winter didn't live her life by adhering to schedules.
Instead they would be trapped, adrift in paradise with
nothing but the waves and, if her tea–leaf reading
held true, scores of single, hot men. Could anything be
more romantic?
Hearing Anna's loud, grumpy sigh, Winter
said, "Everything happens for a reason. Why not have a
little faith in the master plan? Maybe this cruise is your
destiny."
"No," Anna said, matter–of–factly. "My date
with destiny was a brand–new black SUV with brown
leather interior and all the add–on features. Oh, and
the complimentary Jet Ski to pull behind it. Not some
floating deathtrap and a week of debauchery."
"You're planning on debau—on getting laid?" Winter
arched a brow, hopeful her friend was finally ready to take
a walk on the wild side of life. "By something that's not
mechanical or requires batteries? Maybe you're right," she
reached for Anna's forehead, "maybe you already contracted
something."
* * * * *
Christian sighed, leaning forward as he peered into the
suite's oval bathroom mirror. Combing his long brown hair
back from his face, he pulled it into a neat ponytail at
the nape of his neck. Not a hair was out of place when he
finished. He had personal grooming down to a science.
He wore nothing but a towel wrapped neatly around his
firm waist. His bare feet absently tapped on the floor as
Andre started on his next '80s tune. His twin really wasn't
a bad singer, if he'd just stop butchering the lyrics.
Suddenly the shower turned off and Andre hopped out,
glistening wet as he strummed an air guitar and flicked his
tongue in and out. Christian's brow rose as he tried not to
watch Andre's one–man show. Though the event was
oddly like a car crash—as much as one didn't want to
look at it, the compulsion to do so trumped all restraints.
Andre didn't even seem to notice he had an audience,
that or he just didn't care. Still humming softly, he
grabbed a towel off the wall and haphazardly dried his hair
then his body, not caring that he missed a few spots.
"Hey, let me get in here," Andre said, dropping his damp
towel on the floor and reaching toward the neatly organized
sink. He knocked down a bottle of cologne while grabbing
the mousse. Squirting some hair product on his hand, he
continued humming as he dropped the can in the sink. As
Andre moussed his hair, combing the messy length only with
his fingers, Christian picked up the fallen bottles. "Oh
yeah, thanks, I need that."
"You have a bathroom in your own cabin."
"Oh, I know. But I sort of forgot to bring my toiletry
bag. I don't have anything but my toothbrush next door.
Well, that and my clothes of course."
"I gave you a list of what to pack."
"Yeah, and when I was out the other night, I ran into
this foxy gal and needed something to give her my number
with." Andre smiled. "It worked great, thanks."
Christian didn't dignify the comment with a response. He
sighed as Andre grabbed his cologne and put it on, not
bothering to recap it when he was done. Picking up after
Andre as his brother strode from the bathroom naked he
mumbled, "Just like home."
Andre ignored his grumbling brother and headed to his
cabin in order to dress. Christian spent too much time
being perfect. Andre was just the opposite. He liked music,
movies, making an artistic mess and a well–written
novel, especially the ones that had loads of steamy sex
poured on each page. Who wanted to have an intellectual
conversation when you could lie on your back and just let
your mind drift aimlessly? Or watch the latest hottie ride
you as her tits bounced in your face.
Ah, this is the life...or at least it was, for soon I'll
be a married man.