“Mmmm.” Isabella closes her eyes, savoring the bite of garlic roasted chicken we’ve been served for our entrée. “I miss cooking like this. You know, I wish I’d paid more attention when my mother was in the kitchen. She’s a fantastic cook. She stayed home and cooked us three square meals a day. I guess I just assumed everyone could cook like her. Turns out not so much.” Her eyes roll back when she takes another mouthful.

“Do you need a minute alone with your supper?” I laugh.

“Sorry, I think I’ve been eating too many meals at the diner lately.” She looks bashfully at her plate.

“Don’t apologize. I told you before. I like how much enjoyment you get from things. Whether it’s dinner”—I nod at her plate—“or dessert”—I sweep my hand down over my shirt like I’m showing her the prize she won on a game show—“I love learning what you like.”

Her smile holds my gaze longer than I intend to stare. Something about her mesmerizes me into an almost hypnotic state. I’ve never met any woman who can hold my attention with just a smile. Somehow I manage to bring myself back to the conversation, after an eternity of studying her flawless face.

“How about you? Do you come from a big family?”

“No, it’s just my sister and me and our parents.” She grimaces.

“Were your parents good cooks?”

“My mom was. Well, she is. When I was a kid, Sundays used to be my favorite day of the week. First I’d go to my father’s service, and then my mom would cook us a huge dinner.” She winces as she seems to recall what she claims was a happy time. I’m pretty sure I’m missing a large part of the story when her actions don’t sync with her words like this.

“What do you mean by service?” My eyebrows crowd together as I wait for the story to unfold.

“My father is a pastor. He was the one who married Julia and Parker, actually.”

“Oh, really! You didn’t strike me as a preacher’s daughter.”

“Pastor,” she corrects me, “and I don’t strike them as one either. It’s tough to live up to those expectations, but my sister measured up pretty good.” Isabella drags her fork from the candied carrots to the cooling hasselback potatoes, a little annoyed that I’m pursuing this conversation, but knowing about a person’s family is greater insight into who they are than just about anything else.

“Well, those Sunday dinners sound nice. Maybe I’ll get to meet them at one?”

“I wouldn’t count on it.” She sighs, staring at her dinner glumly.

“Why’s that?” I tease. “Are you ashamed of me? Am I a secret you plan to hide from your folks?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. My family, uh, we’re just not close anymore. I don’t visit them unless I have to.” The words come out so sharp, I’m surprised they don’t cut my ears.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” I’ve pushed too far. Obviously this is a sore spot for her. I just hope she’ll eventually open up to me about why.

“Don’t be. I don’t care anymore. It’s been a long time since we’ve all seen eye to eye.”

“Hey.” I reach across the table and snake my fingers between hers. “It’s clear you still care. We don’t have to get into this right now, but I will say one thing. If you don’t have your family, you’ve got nothing. I believe that with all my heart.”

Isabella stares out the window of the boat, watching the twinkling lights of Manhattan drift by on the shore. I wonder if I’m being a hypocrite, given the state my own family is in. If family is everything, what do I really have?

I give her hand a squeeze. “Isabella? I think you disappeared on me there for a second.” I smile, letting the fleeting moment of sadness drift by us as quickly as the buildings on the banks of New York. “I’m sorry I put a damper on our conversation. Let’s talk about something else instead. Have I told you how stunning you look tonight?”

Her eyes crinkle as she smiles at the compliment, and I can’t help but smile back.

“You have.” She laughs, running her fingertips over her jawline. “But that’s a conversation I could listen to all night.” She tilts her head.

“Well then, I’ll just have to think of new ways to tell you. With my words. With my kisses.” I lower my voice. “With my body.”

“If we weren’t stuck on this boat, you could show me right now.” She looks up from under her lashes.

“Yeah, I didn’t think this through very well.” I chuckle. “I’d love if you’d spend the night at my place tonight.”

“Are you sure you don’t have an early flight or meeting?” She scolds me gently.

“No, I don’t. And I did apologize for that.” I try to keep the irritation out of my voice.

How many times does she want to bring this up tonight?

“If you want to come to my place tonight there will be nothing dividing my time or attention. All of my focus will be entirely on you.” Rubbing his thumb up her leg, her thighs squeeze together around my fingers before I make it too much farther than the hem of her short skirt.

“I’d like that. No, I’d love that,” she admits, tangling her foot with mine under the table.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to toss you in one of those lifeboats and row us ashore.”

“We wouldn’t make it far.” The image of fucking her under the moonlight in the lifeboat is almost too much for me. The last hour of this harbor cruise is going to be painful.

But, then again, it doesn’t have to be, does it?

“Come up to the upper deck with me.” I extend my hand.

She raises one eyebrow but doesn’t argue or question me. Instead, she slips her dainty fingers in mine and follows me up the steep stairs to the crisp air above. Walking her to the bow of the ship, we stop at the guardrail and watch as the stars speckle the sky and listen to the water slide by the hull. Pulling her into me tight, I kiss her slowly but deliberately, allowing my fingers to trail down the side of her neck as my kisses stray across her jawline and down to her collarbone. She shivers in my arms, so I shield her from the wind, turning my back against the breeze swirling around us.

As my fingers trail down over her skirt to the edge, I pull the hem up, slowly inching it up toward her plump, round ass. “No, wait, we can’t do this here! It’s too cold.” It sounds like she’s whispering in my ear, but to hear her above the waves and wind, she’s probably yelling.

“Not to worry.” I continue tugging the hem upward. “I can warm you up.”

“But, we can’t! What about them?” She flings her head backward toward the skeleton crew inside the berth.

“Come with me,” I growl, tugging her hand as I lead the way to the side of the ship. I look around, but we’re completely alone. Between the cold wind whipping around us and the fact the dinner is still being served inside, we have the privacy she craves.

“Trust me, it’s just us up here. Besides, there’s no way I’m waiting until we dock to have you. I need your body against mine, here. Now.” I yank her dress the rest of the way up and draw a thin, invisible line up the inside of her clenched thigh, pushing my fingers between them to her soaking wet center. I smile as her juices coat my fingertips, proof she’s just as turned on as I am right now.

Twisting her around, I wrap my arms around her and press my rigid cock up against her ass. “I can’t wait to fuck your tight little pussy again. I want you to cum on my cock.” I push her shoulders, guiding her down to her hands and knees on the deck. I hold my wide hand between her shoulder blades, kneeling behind her, and gently but firmly push her head down to the floor. Watching her soft ass swaying with the rocking boat has me transfixed.

No woman should be this sexy. It’s a crime against men’s restraint. I know I’m throwing mine to the wayside as I pull her pink thong to the side and admire the rosy flesh exposed inside her lips. Pearly beads of desire have formed in her entrance, enticing me, exciting me. I can’t resist. In less than a second, I free my cock from my pants and slide it up and down, teasingly just inside her pussy. Her nectar covers my cock, making it easily slide inside her to the core, despite how tight she is. She fits around me like a custom leather glove, her warmth surrounding me as I thrust my cock into her hard.

Even over the crashing waves, her moans fill the air around us. She’s calling out my name as I fuck her like I’m trying to break through the deck below us. She twists her ass, pushing back against me every time I bottom out in her, giving me the deepest access to her center possible. Reaching around her hips, I make quick work of finding her sensitive nub hidden in her mound. Pressing just above her button, I move my finger in little circles, easily sliding with her natural lubricant dripping on my fingertip. Suddenly, she stops moving. Her pussy clenches and trembles around my cock, milking it for my seed as she lets out her siren song for passing boats. There’s no mistaking when this woman is cumming. If her body doesn’t tell you loud enough, her screams will.

My balls tighten and clench as I slam my cock into her faster. Faster than I think I’ve ever fucked anyone. With her muscles bearing down on me, she’s as tight as a virgin against my thick girth. The familiar sensation rises in my lower stomach as I fill her with my cum, holding her tight against me. When the last tremors stop and I’ve emptied my seed, I lean over her, just lying still against her on the wet, cold deck. Neither of us minds the noticeably frigid seawater cresting over the deck and spraying us.

When I stand up, I pull Isabella to her feet and smooth her skirt back down over her ass. Although, it’s a damned shame that she should cover it. Within a couple of minutes, we’re both squared away and back down below where the heat of the cabin is like pinpricks against my icy skin. Our food is cold, we’re both freezing and a little damp, but neither of us is complaining. We’ve managed to sidestep a much bigger agony, waiting for this sail to end before enjoying each other the way we just did. Although, truth be told, the hour or so we have left on this boat is still a long damned time before I can throw her on my bed and rip off her clothes again.