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“Yeah,” he sighs, then turns his little-boy grin on me. “Do we get to pick up where we left off after we eat?”
I sit and wriggle my way to the bottom of the berth, pausing to send him a side-eye. “Thought we were going sailing this morning.”
“So we’ll make it quick.” His grin broadens. “Plus, I’ll be a better sailor if I’ve already jumped your cute little bones. I can concentrate on sailing instead of focusing all my attention on jumping them.”
“You’re incorrigible.” Shaking my head, I control my smile and search the floor for something to slip into. His black button-down is the first article of clothing I spy, and I hop down and shimmy into it.
“Nice shirt.” He’s now propped up on his elbows, watching me. “But what am I supposed to wear?”
“Who says you need to wear anything?” I bat my eyelashes and squeal when he pops up and makes a grab for me. A few steps, and I’m in the galley, scouring the small fridge for breakfast fixings. I’m pleasantly surprised by the amount of fresh, healthy food in there—beer and a stick of butter or a half-eaten pie is what I’d expect in a typical man’s refrigerator. I remind myself this is no typical man—he’s an athlete who’s serious about keeping his body in peak form.
I, for one, am grateful.
Colby joins me, dressed in gym shorts. What a shame to cover up any part of that body. He’s got a serious case of bed head, giving me the opportunity to run my fingers through his hair and try to tame the unruly tufts sticking out in every direction. Stooping, he lets me do my finger-combing best, smirking the entire time, as if he knows it won’t do any good.
“What?” he asks when I huff.
“I’m trying to decide if that smirk of yours is for me or if it’s your normal resting face.” This I say instead of admitting my efforts don’t make a bit of difference.
He wraps his arms around me, lacing his fingers together at the small of my back. “It’s the special smirk I save for my first mate.” Then he kisses me, and by the time we come up for air, I’m breathless. His smug smile widens because he knows exactly what he does to me. Damn, he’s cocky. And damn if I don’t eat it up.
Together we decide on spinach, cheese, and mushroom omelets, whole wheat toast, and strawberries topped with vanilla yogurt. We work side by side with ease in the tiny space, chatting and joking as if we’ve been together for a decade. He occasionally slides a hand under the hem of the shirt to squeeze my ass but otherwise behaves himself. I love the intimacy, but parts of me want him to do more—like skip breakfast and haul me back to the berth.
A serious addiction to Colby Chase is developing inside me at an alarmingly rapid rate.
We sit down next to each other at the table, and I watch in amusement as Colby hoovers up his helping. I give him half of mine, and as he’s finishing up that portion, his phone rings.
When he picks it up and looks at the screen, his eyes light up. “Hey, trouble. What are you up to?” He pads to the berth and shuts the door. It doesn’t do much to muffle the conversation, but I feel the cold chill of being left out—which is ridiculous. We’ve spent one night together, and I have no claims on him, nor does he need to share every iota of his life with me. Logic doesn’t keep me from feeling off-kilter as my insecurities rise and form defensive walls around the gashes in my psyche that haven’t completely healed.
Clearing the table, I start washing dishes when Colby emerges. He hooks his thumb over his shoulder. “Sorry. That was my sister. Didn’t think you’d want to hear the inane conversations we usually get into.”
Those doubts of mine push me to ask if he told her about me, but I hold them at bay. “How is she?”
“Great.” Brows furrowing, he glances down at the floor. “I think she’s seeing someone.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“No, it’s just … new. Wish I could drag more out of her, but as she likes to remind me, she’s an adult. I guess I’ll have to get used to it.”
Again, I’m tempted to ask if that goes the other way—if he told her about me—but I’m not even sure we qualify as “seeing” each other. Instead, I infuse my voice with lightness. “Which one? Her being an adult or seeing someone?”
“Both.” It seems to dawn on him what I’m doing, and he tries to nudge me out of the way.
“I’ve got this,” I assure him. “Why don’t you go do your captain things so you can take me for a ride?”
His arms encircle me, and he pulls me in for a toe-curling kiss. Drawing back, he looks down at me and grins. “I’d love to take you for a ride. Oh. Did you mean a sailboat ride?”
“Yes.” I giggle. Though I wouldn’t mind another ride like the one he’s making sexy innuendos about.
“Guess I better put on some more clothes, then.” He heads for the berth, pivots, and points at me. “You can stay just like that. Or take off the shirt, if that makes you more comfortable.”
I jut out a hip and rest my hand on it. “So considerate.”
“I know, right?” He wiggles his eyebrows and turns toward the berth once again.
Minutes later, the dishes are drying on a towel, and I poke my head into the berth to see if he’s ready. His back to me, he’s still in nothing but his gym shorts, and he’s staring down at something in his hand.
“What’s up?” I ask.
