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“I can’t do this.”
Those four words keep getting replayed over and over in my head until my silent tears turn into loud racking sobs. Eventually, the crying stops and I will myself to sleep but it’s clear the universe is sorely against me because sleep evades me.
A lot of things contribute to my inability to fall sleep… the raging storm threatening to tear the boat apart, the raw humiliation from being rejected by Christopher Young, and my mind continually replaying the ecstatic sensation that enveloped me each time his finger so much as grazed my skin.
You would think after being rejected by the man I am insanely attracted to, my heart would get the memo and stop beating so fast. Even my brain struggles between what is rational and what isn’t.
We had been so close to taking things further and I had sensed his control slipping by the second. He had wanted me, that much I knew. I could tell from his ragged breathing, the way his hold tightened on my waist, and the way he kissed me so fervently with need, rendering me totally senseless in the heat of the moment.
In my twenty-four years of existence, I have never felt anything like it before. Not even with the men I once fancied myself in love with.
Everything about Chris is overwhelming. Like this storm that completely sweeps everything in its path away, he sweeps me off my feet just by looking at me.
The frustration of being left high and dry eats at me until I’m tossing and turning in the bed for the rest of the night. For a brief moment, I contemplate going to find him to demand an explanation for why he stopped, but my pride gets in the way.
Instead, I stare into space wondering what the reason could be. Just like me, he had been ready to give in to his desires and let the whirlwind of passion take over. But he stopped at the very last minute and I saw something in his eyes.
I had been too embarrassed and angry to decipher what those emotions were but I caught one of regret right before I ran from him.
Thomas Knight’s words replay in my head again, triggering my insecurities. “He never really keeps the likes of you around for long.”
Perhaps Thomas was right. I have no business desiring a man like Chris anyway, not when he could have whatever woman he wants. There’s also the fact that he is over twenty years older than me and he happens to be my best friend’s father.
I sigh heavily, pulling the blanket over my head. What am I thinking dwelling on this anyway? All indications point to the fact that even if we had decided to take things further, a relationship between us wouldn’t work out in the long run. So, maybe I should be grateful that one of us had the strength to pull back and stop before it became too late.
The boat rocks a little from the sea waves crashing against it and I’m glad that Chris’ “boat” is really a million-dollar yacht strong enough to withstand a storm like this. The waves hit again, this time harder and I grip the blankets tighter.
If I wasn’t so determined to sustain my pride right now, I would be running in search of Chris just so I’m not alone and terribly scared for my life. Instead, I suck it up, pull the blanket over my head, and shut my eyes tightly, willing myself to go to sleep and forget everything that has happened in the last twenty minutes. A few seconds pass, then I hear a soft creak that indicates that the door to my room is being opened. Rather than listen to my instincts pushing for me to sit up and look at him, my cowardice wins and I become stiff while still keeping the blanket over my head.
Even when I hear his footsteps approaching the bed, I refuse to make a sound or show him that I’m still awake. After a long minute of silence, Chris sighs loud enough for me to hear. For a moment, it feels like he’s going to say something and stupidly, I wait eagerly for him to. ‘Speak, say anything, anything at all that will fix this mess we are in,’ I want to yell at him, but I don’t. I remain quiet.
Time passes and Chris lets out another sigh that sounds just as helpless as the last. Then, he turns on his heel and walks back out the door.
As soon as the door closes behind him, I pull the blanket off my head and sit up. Then, I stare at the shut door for longer than I can count. Feeling dejected, I lie back down on the bed and throw the blanket right back over my head.
By some form of miracle, I finally fall asleep.
When I wake up the following morning, a lot of things have changed. For one, I can no longer hear a storm and the atmosphere seems calmer. Although what happened between Chris and I still resurfaces in my mind, there’s a difference now. It seems that my heart and mind have finally aligned and I have managed to come to terms with the fact that things are better this way.
Quickly, I head into the bathroom to freshen up. Just like everything else on this boat, the bathroom is sleek. It’s painted white with dark brown wooden cabinets. There are several mirrors attached to the wall, giving the illusion of the ensuite looking bigger than it actually is.
In the center of the room is the coolest shower I’ve come across, entirely enclosed by glass and with a door that pivots open to give access. If anyone were to walk in while I’m having my bath, I would be completely exposed to them. But I don’t have to worry about that since it’s just Chris and me. Besides, I have a feeling I won’t mind it at all if Chris happens to walk in on me. But after what happened last night, I definitely won’t have the reaction I would normally have to being naked before the man I’m attracted to.
After bathing, I change into a t-shirt and jeans with durable boots and a thick jacket. I tie my hair up in a loose bun. Then, I do what I had been so reluctant to do while the storm raged on last night. I go in search of Chris.
The boat is so large that, on occasion, I find myself getting lost in rooms I have yet to explore. Eventually, when I don’t find him in any of the rooms, I find my way back to the sailor’s compartment.
Chris isn’t there either, but it doesn’t take long for me to find him by the corner on the deck, crouching low with his back to me. But that is not what has me speechless and practically drooling at the sight of him.
No, it is the fact that Chris is completely shirtless.
I stand behind him and watch his muscles ripple with every move that he makes. The reflection of the bright sun glides effortlessly over his beautiful, bronze skin. His dark, wavy hair is being gently ruffled by the wind, making me want to run my fingers through it.
Shaking my head, I force myself to think about something else, like why he’s crouching here shirtless in the first place. I take a few steps toward him, bringing me closer before peering over his shoulder.
Out of curiosity, I ask, “What are you doing?”
Chris freezes for a moment before turning slightly in my direction. “You are awake,” he says, stating the obvious as he squints at me. “I made you breakfast. It’s in the kitchen, you can eat while I finish up here.” Then, he turns back to continue what he’s doing.
