Iwake in bed next to him the next morning.
Sunlight streams in through the nearby window. He’s breathing softly, deeply, still asleep. I glance at him, blushing, shy. I don’t know why though. The night before, he got to see every inch of me, tasted my body, and I tasted his. We’ve been about as intimate as you can be with someone—more intimate than I’ve ever been at least.
I look at his muscular chest, at his abs, at the long V that leads down to his half-hard cock barely covered by a thin white sheet. I wonder if he’s dreaming about me.
He doesn’t wake when I get up to shower. By the time I’m done, I find him in the main room. I accept a mug of coffee and put a light breakfast from room service on a plate. I smile and as I walk away, he grabs my robe and pulls me toward him.
The cloth slips open.
“You slept naked.”
“You did too.”
He shrugs. “I don’t mind my body. You try to hide yours.”
“I’m a girl. You’re a guy. And plus—” I don’t add,you look like a Greek god.
He smirks and bites my shoulder hard. I push him away and he laughs as he takes his own coffee and goes to shower.
We get dressed, but before we leave, he pushes me up against the wall and stares into my eyes. “Don’t forget what I said,” he whispers in my ear. I shiver and shake my head.
Which part? How he owns me? How he shouldn’t have risked his life to save me?
I don’t know what to think about this psycho, this monster. But my mind keeps drifting back to his hands on my skin and his lips against mine.
The boat is loaded when we get back to the marina. The hold is full of alcohol, from bottles of vodka up to cases of beer. Emilio does all the work of prepping the boat, making sure we’ve got the fuel we need, checking the weather and plotting the course, before he unties us and we cast off.
I don’t ask him who loaded the ship and he doesn’t offer any names. It doesn’t matter—he has people, and that’s all I need to know.
Out in the open water, we motor along. The sunlight’s beautiful and the wind is crisp. I can almost forget the storm from the night before. The seas are calm and we make good time, and I’m starting to think I don’t mind long boat trips until around the halfway point, he pulls me from the deck where I’ve been sunning myself and into the shady cockpit.
We’ve barely spoken a word beyond him issuing orders since we left the hotel. Now, he looks at me like he can barely control himself. His muscles flex as he twists my wrists back. “What are you doing?” I ask but he doesn’t bother answering. I know what he wants right now. He slams me against the wall and buries my mouth with his.
He kisses me with passion, his tongue finding mine, and I moan into that kiss, unable to help myself. I return it, heady and crazed, and I don’t know where this is coming from and I don’t care.
I want this man’s kiss. I need it so badly it’s like an ache in my heart.
Sometimes a person clicks in a way you never dreamed. Emilio fits me, every caress, every kiss, it doesn’t satisfy—no, it only makes me that much hungrier for more.
He pins my hands above my head and holds me there as the ship vibrates and rocks all around us.
“I had to do that,” he says in my ear, his breath warm, his voice low. “I needed to kiss you.”
“Have you been thinking about it since we left?”
“Since the storm. Since I tasted you last night. Since I came on your tongue and slept beside you. Since I first saw you come off that ferry. I don’t know why, but I want you, pet. I fucking need you.” He kisses me again, slower, gentler.
I let myself fall into that kiss.
This is wrong. A voice deep in the back of my mind says it, over and over.Wrong, wrong, wrong. This man killed your sister.And yet I can’t help myself. He saved my life not once, but twice, and I’m spiraling as deeply into him as he’s spiraling into me. I don’t know where this leads or if there’s an ending to this at all, and I’m not sure I care.
I want to turn off the voices in my head and live in this moment, with this man, on this boat.
Slowly our kiss breaks apart. I’m breathing fast and my cheeks are flushed. I stare into his eyes, dizzy, and he’s gazing back.
His grip on my wrists tightens.
“I need to tell you something.”