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GUY WAS WATCHING HER from the deck of the yacht when she returned, swimming closer to the shore, braving the saltiness of the water to keep her eyes under and see what she could of the marine fauna that lived on the bottom of the seafloor. Little wisps of seaweed warred with conch shells and crabs. The ecosystem was alive and thriving off the coast of Acantilados.
She felt a hint of disloyalty to her swimming companions as she strode towards the shore, thinking of how much better she’d have liked the crabs if they’d been lightly broiled and served with a garlic butter sauce.
“You know,” Guy drawled with a sarcasm that Addie was getting used to. “There are steps on the boat. You did not need to go all the way in and walk along the jetty.”
Addie pulled a face, refusing to feel self-conscious in the skimpy bikini she wore, even when Guy’s eyes drifted slowly over her body, lingering on the curves that were barely hidden by the scrap of fabric. “It’s my first time on a super-yacht,” she said archly. “I’m sorry if my lack of experience offends you.”
His expression didn’t alter. “You didn’t seem to grapple with the luxuries of my lifestyle in the past.”
Her heart turned over. “I didn’t see the luxuries of your lifestyle, beyond the thread-count of your sheets and the size of your bed.”
His lips twisted into a grudging smile, and though it was only a flash on his face, it had the power to rob Addie of breath. She was grateful he was wearing clothes – if he’d been in his swimmers as well, she would have run the risk of leaping up and wrapping her legs around his waist. Instead, she kept a mask of nonchalance around her and went to move past him. Her pulse gushed the second their arms touched but she kept going, ignoring the sensation that she’d been sparked by a livewire.
“What are we doing today?” She asked when at a distance she considered safe.
“We? I’m not your tour guide, Ava.”
She ignored his scathing retort. “No, you’re my employer,” she simpered, then with the past so clear in her mind, “Why do you insist on calling me Ava?”
He took a step towards her, his body taut. “You were once very happy for me to call you by this name.”
Her lips twisted wistfully. “No, I wasn’t. I always hated it. You can’t imagine how much I longed to hear you say my real name.” Her eyes lifted to his, challenging him, willing him, to call her Adeline.
He moved closer again, his powerful stride closing the distance between them. He lifted a fingertip to her cheek and held it there, his eyes locked to the small, insignificant contact as though it were paradigm-redefining.
“Then you should have told me your name sooner.” He didn’t move away. His finger dropped lower, to the shoulder strap of her bikini, pressing beneath the fabric, liberating it from her flesh. Addie’s breath caught in her throat.
“I wanted to.”
He made a noise of disbelief, a soft ‘tsking’ sound, and pushed her strap all the way down, so that one breast was exposed to him. Addie looked around, aware they weren’t alone, worried about being seen even when her pulse was hammering through her veins like a soda can that had been shaken for days.
“The captain could be watching--,” the words were thick and husky.
“My crew stays on the island while I’m moored here. We are alone.”
His hand lifted to her breast, cupping it, and her head thrust back on a soft moan. His fingers found the pink aureole of her nipple, brushing over it so lightly it was a torment.
“What are you doing?” She whispered, levering her hips forward, pressing her body to his.
“What does it look like?” With his body he pushed her back against the windows that framed the boat’s front deck; the glass was warm beneath her skin. His body was hard against her, his arousal like stone against her stomach.
“Who else did you play this game with?” He asked, pushing the other strap downwards, the touch of his fingers on her goosebumped flesh momentarily distracting her from the question he’d posed.
“What game?” She whispered, bright silver stars flashing behind her eyelids as he dropped his face and ran his stubbled jaw across her breasts, marking them pink with his attention. She pushed her head back, squeezing her eyes closed, as his fingers found the bottom of her bikini and slid into the waistband.
“The game in which you lie to a man, pretending to be someone you are not. You do it very well. I cannot have been the first.”
His hands pushed her bikini lower and she whimpered as the sea air collided with her femininity. Her eyes locked to his and with every fibre of truth in her heart, she spoke forcefully, “You were. The first. The only. I swear to you.”
His lips lifted in a mocking look of amusement. “It’s very hard to believe anything that comes from your mouth, Ava.” But then, for a moment, his eyes held hers and their souls connected, beating as one, as they’d done before. “Except this.” And his lips dropped to hers, almost against his will, as though dragged there by forces greater than him or her. He took her mouth, claiming it, possessing it and owning it, marking his stamp on her with every single movement. She was weak against the glass, but it provided her strength, a backbone when her own was morphing into jelly. His fingers moved towards her core, finding her slick heat and running across it so that she whimpered into his mouth.
Her hands lifted, tangling in his hair, holding his mouth where she needed it at the same time she pushed her own lips to his, dueling with his tongue, demanding more from him than he was giving.
Every single nerve ending was vibrating with an ancient, undeniable heat and need.
He pressed his mouth to her neck, finding the sensitive cluster of receptors just beneath her jaw, teasing them with his teeth until
her stomach was in knots and her body was at a fever pitch.
