“Did you plan this?” she asks, grinning at me. “Did you hire these dolphins too? Are they employees of yours?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I say, taking her in my arms. “They work on a strict freelance basis.”
She stands on her toes, kisses the bottom of my chin, and then sinks into my arms as she watches the dolphins swim alongside us.
After a while, they either lose interest or can’t keep up and disappear under the water, so we head back to the table and have our amazing dinner—pan-seared snapper with saffron risotto and a drizzle of coconut cream prepared by the best chef on the island.
Maya keeps making these sexy moans while she eats andI’m glad we’re seated because I’m rock hard from watching her luscious lips chewing. I keep remembering how those plump pink lips felt wrapped around my cock and I want to experience it again.
When we’re on our dessert—a delicious mango crème brûlée—and our Brazilian coffees with whipped cream, she starts peppering me with rapid-fire questions. It’s Maya’s idea. She says she wants to know everything about me. Every weird and random detail.
Her eyes are a little glossy from the wine and she has a permanent smile on her face as she scoops up a dollop of whipped cream with her finger and puts it to her lips as she watches me. My jacket is draped over her shoulders and she looks so perfectly mine.
“What is your favorite place in the world?”
“Right here with you,” I say. Wherever this girl is standing is where I want to be.
“Besides here,” she says, nudging my leg with her foot under the table.
“I love The Aurelia,” I say. “But if you won’t let me choose that either, there’s this wonderful bistro in Paris that I adore called Le Cygne Bleu. It’s tucked away on Île Saint-Louis, overlooking the Seine. It only has ten tables so it feels private and intimate like nothing else in Paris. From the terrace, you can see the reflection of Notre-Dame’s towers shimmering in the river. It’s beautiful.”
“It sounds wonderful,” she says, picking at her crème brûlée. “I’ve never been to Paris.”
“What are you doing next week?” I ask as she puts the spoon in her mouth. God, that mouth… Those sensual lips make it hard to think straight.
“Not going to Paris,” she says with a laugh.
I’m not laughing. “I have a private jet. We can go anywhere you desire.”
She tilts her head as she studies me, wrapping my coat around her body a little tighter.
“What was your childhood dream job?” she asks, changing the subject.
“Comic book illustrator.”
“Really? Are you any good at drawing?”
“If I was, you wouldn’t be sitting on a yacht.”
She laughs. “Fair point. Do you believe in fate?”
“I didn’t until today.”
She takes another spoonful of crème brûlée and sucks it clean as she studies me. “Explain.”
“I don’t know…” I say, going over the unlikely events of the day that brought us together. “I have a new jet and there was a mechanical failure. One person vomited on the plane and it happened to be your seat. The two of us sitting together and hitting it off immediately. The flight attendant who seemed to realize what was happening all along. It just doesn’t feel like coincidence. I think it was fate bringing us together.”
Maya’s eyes fill with desire as she stares at me long and hard. I feel her foot sliding up and down my leg and something hungry in me stirs.
“How long until we dock?” she asks in a husky voice.
“Are you ready to go home?”
She licks her lips as her heated gaze roams all over me. “Yeah. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Adrian
