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Raini took a sip from her glass and then placed it on the small table. “God, the air’s so hot it’s almost uncomfortable to breathe it in.”
“Reminds me of when I went to Dubai,” said Khloé. “It’s a total bummer that I was banned from ever returning. It’s not like I meant to set that building on fire.”
“But you did break into one of their bank vaults,” Raini reminded her.
“Yeah, but they don’t know that.” Khloé paused as the faint smell of meat grilling teased her nostrils. “Is it just me, or do you guys smell food cooking?”
“The crew will be prepping us dinner,” said Harper. “Not sure whether we’re eating in the dining salon or on the upper deck’s sun terrace—you’ll have to ask Knox.”
Raini peered out into the distance. “Are there sharks in these waters?”
“I don’t care as long as there aren’t dolphins,” said Harper, trying to brush away the wet hair clinging to her neck.
Raini’s mouth curved. “Not all dolphins are shape-shifting demons.”
“No, but they are twisted enough to mutilate their young, so don’t be fooled by their apparent charm.”
A breeze fluttered over Khloé’s skin, bringing with it a featherlight spray of cool ocean water and making the loose strands of hair flutter around her face. She tucked them behind her ears and lifted her face to the sun, enjoying its warmth, hoping said warmth would chase away the strange chill that had invaded her bones last night and didn’t seem to be going anywhere. Her chest still hurt from her encounter with Enoch, and that “drained” feeling hadn’t gone anywhere. But that was off-topic and not something she cared to discuss.
“Seriously, I absolutely adore this yacht,” said Khloé. “I’d totally live on it if I could.”
“Me too,” said Raini. “I wouldn’t have thought it was possible for a yacht to have a homey feel, but it does.”
Her skin reasonably dry, Khloé pulled the sunscreen from her beach bag. She squirted some lotion onto her hand and then smoothed it over her arms. Her skin prickled—not just from the heat of the sun, but from the weight of Keenan’s gaze. Yeah, she knew he was watching her. She didn’t look his way, though.
She’d deliberately annoyed him throughout their ride on the jet—snapping pictures of him with her cell phone, accidentally-on-purpose spilling her pink gin all over his designer tee, and purposely singing the wrong lyrics to his favorite songs. She didn’t know why the latter bugged him so much, but whatever worked.
Only it hadn’t worked.
He’d snarled. Growled. Cursed. He’d even tried snatching her phone. But he hadn’t reached for the bottle. Or flask.
She’d pointedly ignored him since arriving on the yacht, acting as if he wasn’t there, which always seemed to irritate him just as much as when she poked at him. She’d also noticed that he hadn’t drunk anything but soda so far.
I think we need to step up our game with Don Juan, she told Harper. The sphinx’s eyes flicked to the pool and then cut to Khloé. “Oh, I forgot to ask how your date went.”
Khloé slipped her hand beneath her bikini strap to smear sunscreen on her collarbone and shoulder. “A lady never tells.”
“But you’re no lady, so spill.”
“You did wear your little black dress, right?” asked Raini. “There’s a reason I call it your lucky dress.”
Khloé nodded. “I wore it, and it did indeed bring me luck.”
“I’m kind of bummed the guy didn’t ask me out. He’s hot.” Raini pushed her sunglasses further up the bridge of her nose. “But he obviously goes for the small and insane type.”
Khloé frowned. “I’m not that small.”
“But you are insane.”
“I find it freeing.”
Harper snickered. “I can totally believe that.”
After she was done applying sunscreen to her legs, Khloé looked at Raini. “Could you do my back again?”
“I’ll do it.”
She stiffened, because those words hadn’t come from Raini. They’d come from the person behind her. Keenan.
He was in hell. Being around Khloé while having no right to touch her was hard enough. But seeing droplets of water trickle down her delectable body—droplets he wanted to lap up with his tongue—and watching her smear lotion over her skin … fuck. There was only so much a man could take.
His cock, so full and heavy it ached, was harder than a steel fucking spike. There was no easing it. Not when her wet bikini clung to her body, accentuating her delicate curves and giving him glimpses of what he couldn’t have. He wanted to peel it from her, wanted to touch and taste and maybe even bite.
Still, Keenan might have been able to keep his distance if he hadn’t heard she’d gone on a fucking date. Black jealousy rode him hard, taunting the possessive streak that was like a live wire around Khloé Wallis.
His demon was furious. As far as it was concerned, she was theirs; no other male had the right to touch her. It wanted to hunt down the fucker who’d taken her on a date and deliver a warning that he’d never forget. It wanted to make her understand and admit who she belonged to.
