After a night that had changed something I didn’t have words for.
Something folded neatly beside the door caught my attention.
Clothes. Fresh ones.
A soft tank top. Loose shorts. Things that somehow looked like they’d fit me perfectly even though I never told him my size.
And a note.
I picked it up, my heart fluttering stupidly as I opened it.
Good morning, Peach. Take a shower. Everything you need is in there. Come up for breakfast at sea. —Dane
My cheeks warmed instantly.
Peach.
The way he wrote it made it feel like a pet name and a claim and a kiss all at once.
I slid off the bed, my body loose and heavy with a kind of lingering pleasure and exhaustion I hadn’t felt in years. Every step toward the bathroom felt surreal like stepping deeper into a life I wasn’t used to, a softness I never thought I’d touch again.
When I opened the bathroom door, I just…stopped.
It smelled like jasmine and pear. Warm and sweet and feminine. Not cheap. Not overpowering. Just… beautiful.
The shower steamed behind the glass. I stepped inside and let the hot water pour over me until my skin tingled and my muscles melted. The spray ran through my hair, down my spine, across the curve of my hips.
I stayed longer than I should have, not because I didn’t want to face him God, I did but because no one had ever given me a moment like this. A place like this. A sanctuary.
I had never showered on a yacht. Never woken up on one. Never felt wanted inside a morning that felt like a gift.
When I finally dried off, dressed, and ran my fingers through my damp hair, I felt different. Softer. More awake. A little terrified, but in the best way.
The deck was bright when I stepped out. The sea shimmered like freshly spilled silver. Boats rocked in the distance. The air was cool and salty and alive.
Then I saw him.
Dane stood at the bow, coffee in hand, the morning light outlining him like something out of a dream broad shoulders, bare feet, hair messy and perfect, the curve of his jaw shadowed with stubble.
My heart actually stuttered.
I don’t think I decided to walk to him. My body just…went.
I wrapped my arms around his waist from behind, pressing my cheek between his shoulder blades. He immediately covered my forearm with one of his big, warm hands and leaned back into me like he’d been waiting.
“Peach,” he murmured, voice rough with morning.
“Dane,” I breathed into his shirt.
“God,” he said, exhaling slowly, “I could get used to this.”
He turned toward me, set his mug down, and cupped my face gently hands warm, thumbs brushing the corners of my mouth like he was memorizing me.
His eyes locked onto mine.
Then he kissed me.
Slow.
