Chapter 10

Holden

I couldn’t be more fucking angry.

What was she thinking?

What is she even doing out here?

She could’ve fucking died, and I would never have seen her again. Only heard about it from Port Authority after the fact. My nanny, the woman I’ve fallen for, dead out at sea.

I stroke her back and use that soft brush of my skin on hers to calm the beast raging inside me.

Guilt sweeps through me.

And if she had died? Her last memory of me would’ve been me telling her that I can’t do this with her, anymore. That I have to leave. How can I love this woman and let her go so easily?

Simple, I can’t.

I can’t.

I kiss the top of her head. “Don’t do that again.”

She’s stopped crying, at last. She pushes back from me, and I suck in a breath. A weight drops onto my fucking ribcage. She hasn’t got the mask on, now, and neither do I. I didn’t exactly anticipate any company out here.

It’s the entire reason I left the island behind. I need time to think about everything that’s happened.

How am I supposed to think with her here? Her beautiful face is exposed. Puffy eyes, red nose, and still she’s stunning. My gaze drifts lower. She fiddles with the straps on the front of her lifejacket, shivering, fingers wrinkled.

I gently nudge her hands aside and rip the straps off, then slip her out of the life jacket. I inhale sharply a second time.

She’s lost her bikini top. It must’ve slipped out from under the vest, tugged free by the current.

Her breasts are exposed to the open air, drying in the breeze, baked by the sun, two white triangles against tan skin.

I look away and walk to the boat’s wheel, taking hold of it. I don’t start the engine or turn it. I’m just trying to hide the fucking erection tearing at the front of my shorts. “What are you doing out here?” I ask, again, and this time it’s arousal that snarls my words.

She hiccups but clears her throat. “I was on a banana raft thing,” she croaks.

Christ, she’s hoarse, battered, afraid, and I’m worried about my cock. The thought sobers me and helps the situation downstairs. I walk to the cooler beside one of the benches and flip it open, I reach inside and grab a bottle of water then take it to her.

She accepts it, still shivering, then unscrews the lid and drinks deeply.

Water snakes from the side of her mouth and down her throat. I track the droplet all the way to her collarbone then leave her above deck. I duck down and rustle around in the small cabin on board, finding a towel in one of the tiny cupboards beside a single bed.

I return to her then wrap it around her shoulders. “Here. That will help. I have candy bars. You’ll need sugar for the shock.”

“I don’t want any,” she replies and sits down on one of the benches, clutching the bottle between her hands. “I don’t want to eat.”

I stand over her, my shadow shielding her from the glare. “You have to be more careful. You can’t go on one of those things alone. You need a buddy. Or friends who’ll make sure you’re safe.”

“I’m not a child,” she replies, through chattering teeth.

“Then don’t behave like one,” I snap.

“Excuse me?” She levels me with a glare. “What’s your problem? I almost died and all you can do is—”

“Almost died,” I growl. “Don’t you fucking get it, Danielle? You can’t die. I can’t be without you. I can’t live—” I cut off because that’s too far.

She bows her head and focuses on drinking the water instead. The sun is hot to me, but the cool breeze is enough to offset it, and Danielle is in shock. She won’t stop shaking, and I hate it. I hate every second of this.

“Come,” I say and open my hand. “You need rest.”

“I don’t.”

“Come!”

“No!”

This damn woman doesn’t know what’s good for her. She’s endangered her life and is refusing sense all in one.

I bend and tuck one arm under the backs of her knees, run the other under her back, then lift her from the bench and cradle her against my chest.

She stiffens. “What are you doing?”

“What’s best for you,” I reply and march her toward the stairs that lead below deck.

“Are you crazy?”

Only for you, dumbass.

I take her under, to the single bed with its salt-kissed sheets, and lay her down on it, carefully. She doesn’t argue or flail around at least, just lies back on the sheets. The towel falls open and exposes her breasts and, again, I’m fucking hard for her in an instant.

What is it about this woman?

She’s my addiction, and I don’t even have an addictive personality, for Christ’s sake.

“Sleep. I’ll drift a while longer then take us back to shore. Sleep, relax. Warm up. When you’re ready, there’s a candy bar waking for you on deck.” I turn to go, but she lets out a little noise that stops me mid-stride.

“Wait,” she whispers.

There’s an iron rod between my shoulders. The temptation is too much. Her chocolate brown gaze bores into my back and I picture her, lips parted and quivering ever so slightly—the way they trembled in the throes of her orgasm at the banquet.

“Please, Holden,” she says. “Stay with me.”

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck.

Now, I can’t leave. Not even if I want to. Which I don’t.

“Stay with me.”

I turn slowly, rocking along with the lap of waves against the sides of my boat. We’re anchored, we’re not going to get lost at sea, and I’m an experienced sailor. I can afford to stay here for a while, just until she falls asleep.

“Please,” she repeats.

I face her and take in the sight of this woman, this tan goddess lying tangled in the sheets. Not a goddess, no, she’s a mermaid I’ve caught off the side of my boat. My personal siren, her ankles crossed, her dainty toes pointed toward the end of the bed.

Her caramel hair is spread across the pillow, like slow-drying seaweed, and her pink-brown nipples are puckered still. She opens her arms and beckons.

I walk to her side then lower myself next to her. I kiss her forehead because I can’t stop myself from doing it. If touching her is my sin, take me straight to hell.

Danielle sighs and snuggles closer to me, runs her fingers down the side of my face, then cups my chin. “This is good,” she whispers. “I like lying with you.”

I lift myself onto one elbow and trail my fingers down her body, over one breast and then the other.

She arches her back toward my touch, her eyelids fluttering open and shut. “Holden,” she whispers.

This can’t go further. I did mean what I said yesterday, though I wish things could be different.

“More,” she pleads.

Fuck, I’m lost all over again. I bend and kiss her nipple, suck it between my lips, nibble gently.

“Oh god.”

She tastes of salt and the sea, my mermaid, and I lap it up, work my way from one breast to the other, gentle sucks, nips, and kisses, claiming her skin again. I’ve yet to fuck this woman, because doing that would mean losing myself completely.

But she needs me now. She needs pleasure. She’s scared. Her adrenaline is high.

Eat her out.

That I can do.

I kiss a trail down the flat plane of her stomach, dip my tongue into her belly button and bring another gasp from her lips. I could subsist on them. Christ, she’s delicious. She’s everything.

I make my way lower and lower, to the line of golden bikini bottom. I tug it down, just enough to allow me access, then feast on her clit.

She cries out and shudders, tangles her fingers in my hair and tugs me into her body.

Her pussy is cold, still moist from the ocean, but each lick warms it up, and the moisture becomes dripping, smooth wetness. Her cum is like honey to me, and I lick a line from her hole to her clit, relishing that flavor.

I insert two fingers inside her and go slow, hooking them and brushing her clit.

She moans and rolls her hips, accepts what I have to give, pulls my hair again.

“That’s right,” I say, against her clit. “That’s my girl. Come for me, Danielle. Come for me.”

“Anything for you,” she whispers, and her tone warbles it’s so full of emotion. It’s not only pleasure—it’s danger.

All of this is dangerous. I’m already in love with her. I haven’t even been inside her yet, and I’m in love with her.

Nothing scares me except this.

I’ve conquered the world. I’ve created my own space transport company. I’m on the verge of the next frontier. But Danielle, this sweet, precious nanny, brings me to my fucking knees.

I pound my fingers inside her, dive in and out, suck on her clit, tap it with my tongue then sweep it across. I even out my motion, creating a steady rhythm that will surely break her.

Danielle cries out. “Holden, I’m coming. I’m coming for you.”

She clenches around my fingers, pulses and moans, kicks her legs out.

I watch her, the mounds of her breasts thrust upward, her long slender neck exposed, head thrown back. My Danielle.

Except she’s not. She never can be.