The line to get off the yacht moves steadily as people disembark to explore the first port here in St. Maarten. The guests were given the earliest time slot to leave the ship, and now, based on rotation and seniority, the employees may exit. Because I work in the aft and it’s closed for the duration we’re in port, I get an off day. That one perk of working in Spankville couldn’t have come at a more perfect time.
Last night was amazingly unforgettable. Even with the blood shedding, virginal sacrifice moment that humiliated the heck out of me, Silas was perfect. But just as he had foreshadowed last night, I ran. I could handle things between us being just about sex. Hell, I’m even a little curious about this spanking thing he’s into, but I wasn’t ready for his tenderness. The way he cuddled me and insisted I rest while he iced my vagina made me want things that are not in the cards for us. I never expected the rush of emotions that flooded me. It wasn’t just sex for me. I could picture him being mine and us sharing a bed every night together. My frustration is with myself. I openly agreed that he would be just a fuck, and my stupid heart decided to change the rules.
Last night, my heart chose him, and I was incapable of having a say. It doesn’t care that he’s rich, powerful, and can have any woman in his bed. He’s not mine to keep. The sad thing is, I can’t admit my reasoning for jetting out of his room in the middle of the night. I can’t describe how having his arms wrapped around me was symbolic of an hourglass—the time slowly running out until he’d let me go. I’d given up on the idea of happily ever after happening for me. No Prince Charming is coming to save me. I have accepted my fate … the life destined for me. How dare he make me want more? How dare he make me want to find out what it feels like to be loved?
“Fancy meeting you out here,” Seth says, startling me as I step off the ship. His mock sophisticated phrases are hilarious. I honestly need the laugh.
“Why are you just standing here on the docks? Were you waiting on me?” I tease.
“Actually, I was trying to decide what I wanted to do first since I hadn’t originally planned to get off the ship.” He shrugs. “What about you? Where are you headed off to?”
“No clue. Just thought I’d sightsee and take some pictures,” I remark, holding up Silas’s camera.
“That looks like a pretty expensive camera you got there, doll cakes. I’d better accompany you, so you don’t get mugged.”
“Ah, you want to protect me from all the potential thieves out there dying to get their hands on this baby?” I latch on the neck strap to secure it in my possession.
“Not you. The camera. Maybe I should carry it just to be safe.”
“What about me? Am I not worth protecting? Are you saying the camera is worth more than I am?” My jaw drops in feigned shock.
“Okay, okay. I’ll protect you too. Besides, who will help with the work if something happens to you? I can’t be responsible for your duties along with mine. Still, let me carry the camera just in case.”
He flashes the brightest smile imaginable. I can’t help but giggle. He is just what I need to pull myself out of this funk.
“You’re such a weirdo, Seth. Here, I thought rich people were weird with all their kinky fetishes, but you’re one odd duck.”
He just winks at my conclusion of his wackiness. “Come with me to go window shopping. I might get the urge to splurge and may need you to talk me down.”
“I’ll go with you, but only to keep all the straight women off your scent. You’re not helping with all that sex appeal you’re flaunting.”
Seth may be gay, but his masculinity is unquestionable. Muscles bulge from his jeans and fitted tee like a visual wet dream. Although he is painstakingly gorgeous and plays for the other team, my foolish blood-pumping organ has already been claimed. Still, I’m not visually impaired. The man is sexy.
“Okay, but if we run into any hot guys, I’m telling them that you’re my baby sister.”
“Deal.”
We shake on it. He loops his arm through mine, and we head to look at all the things we’re not going to buy.
We spend the day together while I take random pics … a lot of random pics. Like “someone should really take this camera from me” random pics. I didn’t stick to just landmarks either. The dated buildings are so colorful and beautiful, each structure more visually stunning than the last. Seth blames me for not getting more window shopping done. I don’t see the point, but it’s fun for him. He says that he is getting ideas to recreate his wardrobe. I’m more focused on finding exciting things to capture with my lens. It’s helping me keep my mind off Silas, and I’m getting more comfortable using the features. As I zoom in to capture a shot of a church in the near distance, I hear Seth’s phone ring, and he curses under his breath. He answers, but the conversation is cryptic with only yes and no responses. He looks around before rattling off our location. He nods as if the person on the other end of the phone can see him. What the heck is going on? His call doesn’t last long. He turns to me, and my hackles go up.
“I have to go. I’ve been summoned.”
“Summoned? To do what and by whom?”
He looks genuinely disappointed, but I don’t like this nonchalant vibe he’s giving me now. I want my over-the-top friend back who oddly likes to look at things he has no plans to buy.
“I wish I could tell you what, but I can’t. A few of us were selected for a special assignment, and I’m bound by confidentiality. I have to go back to the boat. Please don’t ask.”
He gives me his saddest puppy dog eyes, and I melt. I can’t say that I’m not more than a little bit curious, but I won’t question him further. I respect that he’s told me as much as he has.
“Fine. Let’s go back.”
“Actually”—a black Mercedes pulls up, interrupting his sentence—“that’s your ride,” he finishes.
“What? How? With who?”
“You forgot the last two w’s—where and when,” he adds, amused.
“Not funny! What in the …?”
The driver of the Mercedes gets out and opens the back door. The heavily tinted windows make it impossible to see inside, but I reluctantly wave bye to Seth as he leaves in the opposite direction without answering my questions. Why couldn’t he ride back with me? Where is he going? He’s not headed in the direction of the ship. It would appear he has more secrets than he’s telling me.
The driver just stands at the back door, waiting for me to get in. I hope I’m not being abducted because I have nobody to pay my ransom. Feeling assured that nobody in their right mind would abduct the poor, I walk over to get in the car. I’m not ready for the man I see waiting inside—Silas.
He lowers his designer shades down his nose to look at me, and my heart does a back flip. His tan jeans hug his muscled thighs while the rip at the knees shows a little bit of skin. His t-shirt showcases what I like to call chiseled perfection with every etch on display.
“Stop eye fucking me and get in, Brennan.” His voice is firm, unwavering.
Suddenly, my escape from his bed last night plays on a loop in my mind, and I’m questioning just how pissed he is at the moment. He said he wouldn’t chase me, yet he did, and then I ran. He can’t be too pleased with me right now.
I ease into the seat next to him, unsure of what to say. The driver closes the door, and the vibrations carry with it the tension I feel. This is awkward. I didn’t get this far in my thought process—like how I would feel when I saw him again. The air in the car is heavy, suffocating. I can feel him all around me, and he’s not even touching me. As if reading my mind, his hand slides across the butterscotch leather to grasp mine. He pulls my hand back toward him, and my body instinctively follows until the heat of his hip presses against me.
“Relax, Brennan. I’m not mad. I felt the minute you removed my arm from your body. I let you go because that’s what you needed. I gave you the space to digest everything we had done—which is also why I didn’t push for more rounds. And because you were sore.”
I melt into him, letting him be my comfort. Pathetic and as cliché as it may seem, I’m falling fast. There’s no manual for this, and I have no clue what the hell I’m doing. I’ve never dated, let alone had feelings for anyone. Maybe it’s lust or his skill at sex. Whatever it is, it’s not something I predicted. His fingers intertwine tighter with mine.
“I don’t know what to say, Silas.”
“You don’t have to say anything. I understand. If it means I get to have you underneath me again, we’ll go slow.”
“Okay.” I don’t miss his “again” statement. His intent is to fuck me again, and foolishly, I’m more than willing. We mutually agree to leave my disappearing act unexplored, but so many unsaid things lie between us. I don’t want to think about the consequences of where this is not leading. I don’t know how, but this devilishly handsome man has managed to find me on the streets of St. Maarten. I left my phone in my cabin, and he still found me through Seth. He says he doesn’t chase, but he has it down to a science. Apparently just as much as I have with running.
“How did you know I was with Seth?” My inquiring mind won’t give it a rest. “You’re quite the detective.”
“There’s not much that gets by me, sweetheart, not to mention my paid eyes.”
“So do you have paid eyes on me?” I ask jokingly, but then my intuition wipes the smile right off my face. Seth’s admission about having a special assignment rocks me. Am I it? “Is Seth one of your paid eyes?” He stiffens next to me. His hesitation is barely noticeable, but it’s there.
“No, he’s not,” he insists firmly. “My paid eyes are my security detail. What did he tell you?”
I need to tread lightly here. Seth didn’t disclose anything, but am I even allowed to know he has a special assignment?
“Tell me? Is it something he was supposed to tell me besides that he had to head back? I didn’t get anything other than that because your car showed up and he bolted.”
“Nothing to tell. You both weren’t supposed to leave the yacht. One team member is supposed to stay back in case the guests finish their touristy shit earlier and want to come back for a little bit of playtime.” He brings my hand up to his lips and presses a soft kiss along my knuckles.
“I thought the aft was closed on days the ship was in port? I read that in the binder information.”
As soon as the words leave mouth, I want to snatch them back and set them on fire with gasoline. He arches a single groomed eyebrow at me with a smirk that tells me he caught my slipup. That information was well within the “all the ways to make the ass red” binder he gave me. Now he knows just how much I’ve been reading—religiously, in fact—since that little nugget of info is somewhere in the middle of the binder.
He winks at me, and I just smile like someone caught with their hand in the proverbial cookie jar.
“Ah, been reading the book of knowledge, huh?” he guesses correctly. “Let me clarify. The aft doesn’t close outside the normal ship hours of four a.m. That’s just to allow time for things to be put back and sanitized for those who like morning play. The aft isn’t closed; I just don’t provide lessons on the day we port … It’s a free day.”
“So a free day for guests but not for employees?”
“Correct. Some employees, not all. Somebody has to attend to the guests. It goes by rotation, so you need to get with Jacob.”
We ride in silence, passing homes and not heading toward the marina where we disembarked.
“Where are we going?” First, he mysteriously shows up to pick me up, and now, he’s whisking me off somewhere.
“The yacht doesn’t leave until tomorrow morning. I like to rent properties for overnight stays when we’re at a port for at least a day. I can take you back if you want. Should have asked if you’d mind joining me.”
“I feel bad because I have no seniority, yet here I am. Whoever got stuck on board probably has a plethora of dirty words for me.”
“Don’t overthink it,” he rebuts. He unravels his hand from mine and slides his fingers underneath my cotton white summer dress that skims just above my knees. I look in the rearview mirror to see if the driver is watching us. My heart fibrillates, and my breathing becomes labored.
“What are you doing, Silas?” I whisper-hiss.
“Bringing you peace.”
His simple explanation revs up my libido, successfully distracting me from thinking about work. He has the word peace tatted on his right index finger … the finger that is inching its way closer to my pussy. His inconspicuous promise invokes a tightening in my belly and opens the floodgates into my panties.
His “no-holds-barred, I do what I want” attitude is sexy as hell. I’m scared shitless to let him continue the path he’s on, but a tiny thrill battles the fear with equal tenacity. Silas brings out my extrovert who likes to walk the line of kink. His fingers reach their intended destination, and I’m thankful I’m not wearing my grandma underwear.
“Still sore?”
“A little,” I admit. “Every step reminds me of last night.”
“Good!”
“Good?” I asked, knowing it’s relevant for some macho achievement.
“Fucktastically good,” he clarifies definitively. “I hate that I went all caveman on you for your first time, but it also means that you have to think about my cock every time you take a step. You can’t run from that.”
My tendency to run has made its way back into the conversation but not chastisingly so. He slides that wicked peace finger through my wetness as I lean back in the seat, spreading my legs to accommodate his ministrations. He has other ideas, though. He brings that same finger to his mouth and licks it slowly. My eyes follow enviously. I want to feel that talented tongue again.
“You’re such a tease.” I stick my tongue out at him. How dare he get me worked up and then leave me hanging?
“Patience, my little jelly bean.”
“Jelly bean? Really? That’s the nickname you’re going with?”
“Why, yes. They’re my favorite candy, and they remind me of you. Sweet and cute. Especially the freckled ones.”
“Oh, my God, Silas. You’re insufferable. Jelly beans are not cute, and they do not have freckles. I don’t even have freckles, so I’m not sure where you’re pulling that analogy from.”
“Some of them do have freckles. Okay, speckled, but I like to think of them as freckles. I was saying they were the cutest out of the other jelly beans because they were different, just like you—special.”
“I can’t believe you’re comparing me to candy,” I joke. Funny how he can take me from horny to laughing. Influencing my emotions effortlessly.
“Not just any candy … my favorite candy.”
“Can I be the pink kind, at least?”
“Yes. You can be the strawberry cheesecake jelly bean with freckles.”
He pulls me in for a kiss so much more passionate than what we shared last night. I pull him tighter as I crawl on his lap. I need to be in his arms. I might as well enjoy the ride before the inevitable crash.