I laughed and arched my back, reaching behind myself to undo the knot. I’d never been shy about my body, and they were just boobs. I wasn’t going to be embarrassed if someone from the crew got an eyeful. They’d probably seen topless clients dozens of times.
Royce pulled the top away, the strings trailing over my body, and dropped it to the deck. “See? Better this way. No tan lines.”
He sucked on my neck while his fingers drew slow circles around my breast, each circuit tighter than the last, closing in on my nipple. My eyes fell shut, and I surrendered to the sensations.
I didn’t know what to do about how he’d lied to me. I had no evidence, only Macalister’s word, which came with an agenda for sure. And I wasn’t exactly being honest with my new husband either. I still hadn’t told him what had happened during Thanksgiving in Aspen.
So, I didn’t bring it up. Instead, I let his hand wander south and inch below the waist of my bikini bottom. My voice was husky. “Are you going to try to fuck me out here?”
“No. I am going to fuck you out here.”
The multilevel yacht wasn’t anchored near anything else, and it bobbed gently in the calm waters. The ship was huge. We were out on the lowest deck of the stern, and although we felt completely alone, there was a crew of six aboard.
His tone was sinful. “You don’t want to?” His fingers worked deeper inside my bikini and strummed my clit, making pleasure sizzle across my nerves. “We’ve never had sex outdoors before.”
But we had with other people watching, hadn’t we? I pushed the thought away and refocused on what he was doing to me. When a soft sigh drifted from my lips, victory flashed through him.
He knew he had me.
Although our cabin was spacious, the bed was soft, and the waves served to rock us to sleep, it wouldn’t come for me. This afternoon, we’d taken the dinghy into Monaco. We had dinner at one of the finest restaurants in town and played blackjack at the Casino Monte Carlo. We’d been up by twenty thousand euros at one point, but then our luck ran out and we managed to leave only a few hundred in the hole.
We’d had drinks and danced at a nightclub, full of loud, pumping music, a gorgeous atmosphere, and rich people. Heiresses, royals, and celebrities. At one point, we ran into one of the guys Royce had gone to Harvard with. Royce invited him to join us for a drink, but the guy declined, and I was relieved. He’d seemed like a dick, and right as we were leaving, I saw him snorting coke with two women I could only assume were models.
It was late when we’d climbed into bed, and Royce had fallen right to sleep, and although I was tired, there was a nagging at the back of my mind that would not be quiet. It told me if I didn’t draw the line now, I’d be setting myself up for more lies in the future.
The disappointment that he hadn’t stayed truthful was hard to swallow, but what could I do? I wasn’t going to ask my sister to talk to Selene’s father about it. Emily wasn’t ready to reach out.
That meant the only person who knew about it was Macalister. It was only eight-thirty at night in Cape Hill. I debated it for a long while, until the decision was made. I sat up, grabbed my phone off the nightstand, and went out through the sliding door onto the balcony.
My feet were cold against the deck as I paced back and forth, trying to figure out how to word it. Once I’d finished typing, my finger hovered over the ‘send’ arrow. Was I opening Pandora’s Box by doing this? The need to know what Macalister knew was eating me from the inside.
Me: Royce says he doesn’t know Dr. Galliat.
I pictured Macalister on the other side of the ocean, checking his phone and the message bringing an evil smile to his face. This was my honeymoon, and here I was, secretly texting my father-in-law in the middle of the night.
It was only seconds later that the gray bubble with the three dots popped up, and when the message came through, my blood ran cold.
Macalister: He’s lying to you.
Me: How do you know?
There was no response.
Not even a bubble, so he wasn’t typing.
I sighed and leaned my forearms against the top of the balcony railing, looking out at the lights dotting the coast of Monaco while the ocean wind whipped through my hair. My gaze went to the now dark screen of the phone in my hands, and the two rings glinted back. One from Royce and one from Macalister. Which one was the liar?