“So, where do you see this going?”
Gunner leans in, his lips touch mine with a soft kiss, feather-like, before he speaks. “We have fun. I like you. Let’s roll with that and not put high expectations on ourselves.”
“And what happens when you fall in love with me, Gunner?”
He pulls back, removing his hand. “That won’t happen, Everly. I’m sorry.”
We stay quiet until the car comes to a stop.
“I guess we could have fun,” I say before he gets out, but there’s a sadness to the tone of my voice I hope he can’t hear.
“Fun, yes…” Gunner pauses, his hand on the door, “… among other things.” He walks around to let me out. I go to grab his hand, but he reaches in and lifts me bridal-style again. My hands cling to him, afraid he may drop me, but his breathing isn’t deep, it’s natural as he carries me. I’m so intrigued watching him that I don’t look around to where we are until we come to a stop.
“A boat?” And this isn’t a normal boat. Oh, hell no. This is a yacht. This gorgeous yacht would be worth far more than my apartment, that’s for sure. Actually, that’s a crazy analogy—it’s probably worth the same as my father’s house. And that’s a lot.
“Do you own this?”
He places me down on my feet and turns me to face him. My body pushes up against his. “Yes. And this is our date.”
“I like it.”
A waiter comes out with a tray with two glasses. I take one and Gunner doesn’t. He grabs me on my ass and pushes me toward the back of the yacht where a candlelit table is set for two. I smile at the thought as he pulls a seat out for me and then takes his own directly across from me. It doesn’t take long for our meals to be served, and when they are, my stomach grumbles remembering how little I ate at my parents because I lost my appetite.
“How many women have you dated?” I say, breaking our silence.
“You.”
I lift the glass of champagne and drink the whole thing in one go. He’s a man of so few words at times.
“That’s pressure,” I say jokingly.
“How about you?”
“A few. I started dating the minute I could. Rebelling and all that.”
“Your father was strict?”
I shrug. “Yes. He has expectations for me.”
“Would I meet those expectations?”
I look him over. “Yes. You’re Greek and you have money. But that doesn’t mean he would choose you for me.”
“He gets to choose?”
“In our family, for generations our father chooses who we marry. They must approve, or else it doesn’t happen.”
“Have you met this person he has chosen?”
I shrug. “I’m still hoping his rules won’t apply to me. I’m not even sure I want to get married.”
He goes silent and looks away. I go back to eating until our plates are cleared.
“You don’t want to get married? What kind of life do you want?”
“I don’t know, just a life where I’m happy. And so far, I’m doing pretty okay with that part.” Pausing, I take another sip of my drink and ask him, “What about your family?”
“My father died a few years ago. I am set to be married. One day.”
“Does that bother you?”
He shrugs. “It’s up to me, really. I can choose to marry who he chooses for me or not.”
“And what of the woman?”
He leans in close, his breath tickling my face. “She doesn’t have a choice.”
“Ouch, must suck to be her. Is that why you only want to have fun, and not settle down?”
He taps his fingers on the table. “No. As I said… I’m not even sure I want that. Now I’m the head of my household, the choice belongs solely to me.”
“Were you close… to your father?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
Ignoring my condolences, he waves over the waiter who brings us dessert and tops up my champagne.
“I’m sure this isn’t a normal first date discussion. So how about we change the subject?”
“Sure, what do you want to know?”
His elbows go on the table, and it’s then I realize he isn’t having dessert. “I plan to fuck you again, to watch you come undone as you do for me. That will be my dessert. It’s something I want to see more of.”
His words make my cheeks instantly flush red. I feel flustered, and my panties are already wet. I put a full spoon of chocolate in my mouth and hope that covers what words might slip out. Words such as me begging him to take me right now.
He watches me eating, waiting for my answer.
“I’m sure that isn’t first date talk either.”
He chuckles. “No, I guess it’s not. But let’s face it, I want to fuck you again. Over the back of my yacht while you scream my name for all the world to hear. Don’t you want that, Everly? Don’t you want my hands ‘round your neck, my cock in your pussy, and your bare tits for the ocean to see?” Oh Jesus! My leg starts moving up and down. “Do I have you flustered, Everly? If I reached between your legs right now, would I find you wet?”