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I gulp air like it’s acid. In the end, the only thing I manage to pull is his hand. I’m not going to snap his card off its clip, and I won’t let him snap anything on my dress. At least for now.
“I intend to keep him as our customer,” he jokes, oblivious to the battle raging inside me.
“Not my problem.” I throw the responsibility back to him.
“Well, I’ll make sure he knows you’re off limits.” He then leads me into the showroom.
“Wow!” I look up at the tall glass ceiling, gasping as if that would help me make sense of the immenseness of the space. He was right when he said it looked better from the inside. The color scheme, curvy layout, and the all-around glass make me feel that I’m truly in the ocean.
“Now you’re impressed?”
I put a hand on his cheek. “Hey, I was impressed with the chopper ride. Sorry if I didn’t show it. I just didn’t feel like talking then.”
“Don’t fret, Baby Belle. All good.”
We amble around as Clayton shows the Hartley Marine product collections.
“So this is what you do.” I peruse the impossibly shiny yachts. “They look bigger when they’re not in the ocean.”
“They’re actually the smallest model of each collection.”
“Which one is the prince going to buy?”
“Not built yet. Today we’re only going to show him the 3D model.”
“I see. So which one isyourfavorite?”
He leads me to one with restrained enthusiasm.
“Welcome aboard the Pentela B5516.” He takes my hand as we climb on board.
It feels like I’m stepping into a hotel lobby. “Marble, white leather, polished mahogany. No expense spared.”
“That’s the idea.”
“So why this one?”
“Elegant, spacious, yet very intimate.”
I peek into a stateroom and give it a pass. Clayton stands in front of me, nudging himself forward, giving me no choice but to backpedal into the room.
“Is this part of your spiel?” I helplessly ask.
“I’m a marketing man, not a salesperson.”
“Oh yeah. I forgot,” I giggle. “You kiss people’s—”
He plunders my lips before I can finish my sentence. He keeps pressing on me until my back hits the bed, his erection crash-landing on me.
“Youare the only one I kiss,” he whispers as he stoops over me. My breasts spill out of my plunging dress, and he gives them a gander without shame. “So, where were we?”
Guilt soon overtakes passion. I was about to steal something from him, and now he wants to fuck me?
“Don’t you think we should make our way to wherever the prince is?”
He muses. “Not in the mood?”
“Aren’t we running out of time?”
