Ella stands before me, wearing nothing but bikini bottoms. Ones with little side ties that I can pull off with one yank.

Blue sail and sky above. Water just behind my back. We’ve been anchored here—aboard the Ever After—for three days next to a tiny island to the northeast of the Galápagos on our way down to Marquesas. Two cruise ships passed our first day, but since then, it’s been only Ella and me along on a stretch of blue-gray ocean.

In other words, my life is heaven.

I don’t hide the way my gaze crawls over the little anchor tattoo peeking out from her bikini bottoms. She got it in Key West before we pointed ourselves on the Southern route. It healed while eating ackee and saltfish in Jamaica. It burned while we waited in the locks in the Panama Canal. And now it winks at me while Ella wraps a length of nylon double-braided 3/8” dockline around her fingers. Nervously.

Of course, she would just call it a rope. And I know that word is repeating over and over in her head. Along with a thousand other things as she stands there twisting it around her fingers.

We’ve been here before. We’ve talked about it. Long conversations where she tells me her fears. And I tell her that I’m fine with whatever she wants to do. If she never ties me up, that’s okay too. Not all fantasies have to become reality.

But standing here, watching her twist and untwist that dockline with worry lines crossing her forehead, I’m beginning to realize that I was wrong. This is like a wave we keep crashing up against. I’m not sure how to pull her over the top of it, but I’m starting to see that I need to. We can’t keep fighting this battle because it’s holding us back.

From the second I first laid eyes on this woman, I’ve wanted it all with her. Sailing around the world. Asking her to marry me. Children and a future. I want to change the direction of both our family legacies. To pull it out of the darkness and create something strong and secure. And this moment that we keep crashing up against—it needs to happen before the rest can follow.

I stand, and a small shot of pain runs down into my knee. It’s better, though—better every day. We’re both still healing.

I cross the few feet that separates us and take her trembling hands in mine. “I want you to tie me up.”

Yep, I know that was pretty direct. But I also know it’s time. And apparently other parts of me know it’s time too because my board shorts just got that much tighter. Or maybe it’s just being within a ten-foot foot radius of Ella. Who, as I said, is wearing bikini bottoms only. Her wild hair dances in the breeze. I smooth a finger down her soft skin and over a tight nipple that makes my mouth water. Trace a line over her rounded hip. And if I start thinking about her ass, then I’m not going to be able to focus enough to have this conversation.

She bites her bottom lip, looking up at me. Squinting a little from the bright sun behind me. I sidestep and pull her with me so that it’s not hurting her eyes.

She glances down at our linked hands. The dockline clasped between our palms. I take it from her and tie a slip knot. I slide one hand into the loop, pulling it tighter around my wrist.

Her eyes widen. “No, I can’t yet.”

“Yes, Ella. You can.” She didn’t say anchor. So I keep on going, pulling the line until it’s taut.

“I have too many thoughts.” Her fingers run over the small scar on my side. It’s just a small red divot at this point, but she touches it absently when she’s thinking about what happened. “I can’t sort it all out. It’s just…”

She looks over my shoulder, her gaze roving over the boat. She’s chewing on that bottom lip now, and still running her fingers over my scar.

“Forget about the line for now.” I let the other end fall. But it’s still looped around my wrist, and I don’t take it off. I lean down to kiss her, bringing my unbound hand up to her cheek. Stroking down the side of her neck and over her shoulder. She tiptoes up into the kiss, her tongue responding to mine, a soft moan coming from her. She’s so responsive—every time I kiss her, touch her, pull her against me. She just opens up. It’s sexy as hell.

And her hand leaving my side to smooth over the front of my board shorts is also helping that sexy-as-hell feeling. I smile into our kiss and then pull at the string of her bikini bottoms. One side already undone, I reach for the other and they fall.

Ella deepens our kiss and tugs down on my board shorts. They go nowhere. She tugs harder.

Yep, still not moving.

She leans back, eyeing them. Another useless tug.

I laugh because I get what’s happening—I’m so hard it’s stretched the fabric and made them too tight. I think Ella must too, because she pulls the front away and then tries to wiggle them over. Which also isn’t working so well. Although her trying to tuck my dick against my stomach and yank down on the board shorts is making me all sorts of turned on.

She smiles. “You need to wear a swimsuit like mine.”

“You want me to wear a bikini bottom with ties?” I pause. “Yeah, anchor for that one.”

Her mouth falls open a little. “Did we actually just stumble on something you won’t do?”

“Apparently we did.” I help her with my board shorts, and she smiles as she wraps a hand around my freed shaft. Hell, I smile too. Then she starts to stroke me, and I have to set my feet to keep standing.

“What if…” She pauses, watching her hand move up and down. Fuck, the way she likes to watch is ridiculously hot. A few more strokes, and I’m already thinking about being inside of her. Picturing her arching back as she comes. Damn.

She continues stroking thoughtfully as if she’s got no clue about my inner turmoil.

I keep my bound wrist tucked carefully out of view. We both know it’s there, but this is what we needed. Easy and sexy first.

“What if…” Her thumb smooths over my head and around the tip, and I can’t help but let out a groan.

“What if,” she continues with a smile, “they were manly bikini bottoms with ties?”

“How manly?” I grunt it out. “Like pretty-green-bedsheets manly?”

My leg shakes, and I’m not sure how much longer I can keep standing, especially with my thigh. She must notice because she pushes me backward into the seat, kneeling in front of me and continuing to watch as she strokes me.

“I was thinking sexy-gray manly.” She leans forward, taking my head into her mouth. And her name rises to my lips. She takes me deeply a few times, and then… I completely change my mind.

“Okay, taking it back.” My head falls back as she takes me deeper. “I’ll wear anything.”

I slide from her mouth, and she crawls up to straddle me. “Anything?”

“Yep, anything.” My hands rest on her hips, my eyes tracing over her breasts and up to her face. She’s watching me closely.

“I’m yours.” I smooth my bound wrist up her side to the round curve of her breast, and my thumb plays over her nipple. “I trust you.”

She watches my thumb, but I think she’s also seeing something else. Her hand moves up slowly, catching the line between her fingers.

I pull her to me and nibble along her neck. She’s so warm and addictive, and with one twist of her hips, she knows how to bring me inside of her. But I don’t pressure, don’t ask. She’ll take me when she’s ready. She’s been on birth control since we left, so there’s no reason to stop. No reason to have anything between us but skin.

Except we do have one thing right now. Her fingers follow the path of the line around my wrist, circling it. I keep kissing her, touching her, telling her exactly what I think.

That she’s perfect.

That she’s mine and I’m hers. That I’m so deeply turned on and I want to do this with her. I want her to take me. I want to take her.

My words blend with so many thoughts and kisses and touches. Light moans waterfalling from her as I bend her back to suck a tight nipple into my mouth and then eager words as I pull her up and she grinds against me. She still doesn’t take me inside. I think she’s waiting—still a little unsure, maybe.

Just when I think I’ll need to push her to the next step, she grabs my hand from her hip and leans back to bring my wrists together in front of me. She takes a deep breath and winds the line around both of them. Her eyes heat as she pulls the line tight. She meets my gaze.

And, holy fuck, I thought I’d been turned on in the past. But the look she gives me…

Like I’m hers.

It’s something so far beyond anything I’ve ever felt that I just want to hang there for a while. Sort it out. Remember this moment.

She shifts her hips, and while I’m still taken by the way she’s looking at me, she slowly sinks down on me. Everything around me flashes white. Everything except Ella. Her head tips back as I fill her, and when I’m deep inside her, she takes my hands and brings them over her head. My wrists are bound behind her back. And somewhere in my state of being so hard and turned on that the world is fuzzy, there’s also relief.

We’re here. Finally.

She arches back, her breasts pushing out beautifully, and I feel her fingers tugging at the line. Wiggling against mine. The rope tightens—like the fabric earlier—and I realize that she must have pushed her fingers under it. She’s bound to me.

The realization hits me full force. Warming my entire body. My entire fucking life.

She didn’t want to tie me up.

She wanted to tie us together.

I think my heart stops. This woman never stops surprising me. Never stops taking me to new places. Around the world is just the beginning.

She meets my gaze with those dark eyes, moving faster, pulling herself up higher, and I don’t hesitate to go with her. I disappear into the feeling of being so deep inside of her that nothing else matters. Nothing else even comes close. Especially not as she whispers my name, arching back. I catch her with our bound hands, and she sinks against them. Trusting me to keep her from falling. Complete, wordless trust that makes my chest expand.

I watch her. Listen to her. Feel the way she’s starting to tremble, her breath coming stronger and faster. Her eyes slide shut when she repeats my name. I know the moment before she comes. She doesn’t have to tell me—I can feel her tensing, her need blooming. Then she lets go, and every part of her becomes so raw and alive. Her musical voice as she moans louder, her skin as it warms, her eyes as they focus on me again. Erotic, beautiful. And mine.

The sense of ownership is even deeper because I know it’s returned just as fervently. I see it in her gaze as she appraises me after her orgasm abates. With my wrists bound and her on top, she’s got complete control, and she uses it. Her strong thighs push her up so I’m only halfway inside of her. She tempts me with shallow strokes. And, holy fuck, it just makes me want her more. My dick aches for her.

“Fuck,” I hiss. My self-control wavers, but I keep it in line for her. Always for her. The way she tempts me, teases me—every single time. It’s incredible. I used to say good, but we’re far past that now.

She smiles because she knows exactly what she’s doing to me, and then she takes me so fucking deep into her that I lose my breath. I thrust up with all my strength. Bringing both of us up off the bench. Completely forgetting where we are.

“Dean,” she warns. “You’re rocking too hard.”

Fuck, the yacht is rocking really hard. I try to still, but my body argues against me.

She picks up the rhythm, her eyes hot on me. “I’m going to make you come.”

She clenches her muscles, and there’s a gripping around my shaft. My response is instant. I come so hard that I don’t care about the damn boat. We could tumble into the water, and I’d just keep pumping deep into her. I fill her, letting it all go. Just like I always do with her.

I blink back into the world, and she’s smiling down at me.

I lick dry lips. “You know me too well.”

Her skin is slick with sweat, and she’s still trembling from her orgasm earlier. But her eyes have a question. Her lips part, and her fingers wiggle against my wrists. She pulls them out, and the line loosens.

“Was that…?” Her hands go to my shoulders, and her forehead lines.

“It was perfect.” I lean forward to catch her lips with mine. A soft, sure kiss meant to show her. But I don’t know if anything can show her how deep my feelings go. “You’re perfect. I’ve told you this so many times, but it’s like you don’t believe me.” I twist one of my wrists, and the rope starts to loosen. She might be the sexiest woman alive, but she’s clueless with knots. She’s going to be in trouble when it’s my turn.

She takes in a slow, deep breath. “It’s just difficult to believe that you…” Her eyes narrow on me. “Wait—are you untying yourself?” She turns to see, but my wrists are already apart. I grab her, stand up, and throw her over my shoulder. Before she’s got time to realize what’s happening, I turn and leap.

She shrieks when we tumble over the edge, both of us taking a hurried last breath before we hit the water—cold and salt that turns into a cushion that catches us, cooling fevered skin. I swim up to find her laughing.

She splashes me. “You’re going to pay for that.”

I flick some water her way. “Don’t promise what you can’t deliver, woman.”

“Oh, it’s on now.” The evil glint in her eye is sexy as hell. Calling me forward. To tease her, fuck her, talk with her, build a life with her.

So I put on my game face and swim toward her.