‘But you know what, I’m looking forward to going home. Toourhome and having you all to myself, in our bed, on our sofa, on our desk, in our shower.’
‘You’ve been thinking about this.’
‘Every minute of every day.’ He presses his lips to my forehead. ‘Three more days until I can tie you to our bed and fuck you until you’re begging me to stop.’
‘I’m not sure that’ll ever happen.’
* * *
Around lunchtime, Richard emails a scan of the settlement agreement signed on behalf of the tabloid. I run off a copy in Gregory’s small on-boat office and have him sign before scanning the executed version back to Richard to file.
‘Would you like wine with lunch today?’ Bryony asks when the four of us take our seats and wait for Bertie’s legendary fish stew.
‘Bring a bottle of Pol Rodger first, Bryony,’ Gregory says.
With full glasses – well, Amanda’s one third full – Amanda and Williams eye Gregory, waiting for a clue as to why we’re drinking champagne. There’s no speech to toast, no acknowledgement of what I know Gregory is feeling. He tips his glass subtly in my direction.
We fended off this attack and we’ll fend off every other attack that comes our way. Together.
Gregory takes hold of my hand on top of the table and strokes my knuckles. The conversation is lively and Gregory and I are as involved as the others but beneath the table, my foot slips lazily over the skin of his exposed calf. He doesn’t react, which I see as a challenge I’d like to conquer.
Sipping the cool champagne, I slide my foot higher, over the seam of his beige shorts. A challenge. But still no reaction. As he speaks, I work my toes higher still and halt over his crotch. He stops talking and shuffles slightly, pushing back against my instep.
‘Wouldn’t you agree, Scarlett?’ Williams asks.
‘Ah, yes, yep, sure.’
‘What do you agree with, Scarlett?’ Gregory asks, his head angled to one side, a delicious half-smile, cocky and sexy as hell, drawn on his lips.
I jab my foot gently into his package. ‘What Williams said.’
Williams continues to talk and Amanda jumps in to protest against whatever his line of argument is. I increase the pressure of my toes over Gregory’s growing bulge.
‘Here we go, guys. No shellfish in this one for you,’ Bryony says, putting a large, white bowl in front of Amanda. She places a regular bowl, with shellfish, in front of me and Bertie places two similar bowls in front of Williams and Gregory.
I rub the ball of my foot across Gregory’s crotch one last time before he reaches down, squeezing my toes until I yelp and bang my knee off the underside of the table. He glares at me, shaking his head, as Williams tries to stop a smirk pulling on his lips.
Maybe I wasn’t as subtle as I thought.
The stew is fantastic, delicious poached white fish, langoustine, crab and clams in a rich tomato and onion sauce, just the faintest taste of nutmeg coming through. It’s too good to leave but I stay away from the bread, as does Gregory. We’re both hungry, but not for bread.
Amanda takes my attention as Bryony clears our empty bowls. ‘I’m thinking of cutting my hair. Going for a sophisticated bob. What do you think?’
From the corner of my eye, I see Gregory and Williams have one of their unspoken conversations. ‘Are you sure? I love your hair the way it is. You’ve always had long hair.’
Williams takes Amanda’s hand across the table. ‘Why don’t you let me show you around the island?’ he asks, making me look to the instigator of that idea and finding two mischievous browns staring back at me.
‘Sure. You two want to come?’
‘Oh, no, we’re good. You guys enjoy,’ I say, not moving my hazel-greens from my dazzling man.
When they’re gone, Gregory’s lust-filled eyes are drinking me in. He pushes his chair back from the table. ‘Get here.’
I go to him, straddling him in his chair.
‘You want to make me hard, baby?’
‘Rock hard,’ I whisper.
