Her lips curved sinfully, exposing straight, white teeth. “So … you would have nerded out on me. That would have been cute, actually. It certainly would have gotten my attention, unlike the usual, ‘hey there pretty lady, I’m looking for a sugar baby, willing to pay $4k a week—no anal, just my hot cock in your tight cunt, and the occasional titty fuck’ openers.”
My fists clenched under the water. “A man sent that to you?” I asked through gritted teeth. “When you were just a subscriber?”
She shrugged one nonchalant shoulder. “Men do the same on basically any social media app. Maybe slightly less R-rated, but it all amounts to the same thing. Oh! And the dick pics—I already told you that a dick pic is like a form of waving hello on adult-only social media.”
Oh, how I wanted to immediately log in and trawl through her DM history, to identify every single creeper who had harassed her like that. I had to firmly remind myself that Tickle was designed for people to explore sexuality, and that included direct messages. And I knew that she was the type who would very firmly put any man in his place if he overstepped. And we had multiple security features for people to report ongoing harassment, which I was sure she would have used if it was anything darker than funny to her.
She watched my face, and I wondered what sort of expressions must have been flitting across it to amuse her so much.
“So, you messaged me with some adorably nerdy fact about Cleveland Steamers, and?—”
I did a double take. “YouenjoyCleveland Steamers?”
Her laugh was rich and throaty and sent electricity zooming everywhere in my body. “You tellme, stalker boy! I’m sure you’ve thoroughly investigated my viewing history.”
I shook my head. “I haven’t actually been stalking you—background checks of people boarding my yacht don’t count!” I argued, fixing my eyes into the distance. “Whatareyou interested in, when it comes to Tickle content?”
I managed a glance out of the corner of my eye at her. She, too, was staring out at the glittering indigo of the harbour, the peaks of the white sails of the Opera House, framed by the curves of the Harbour Bridge.
“You’re going to laugh,” she mumbled.
“I would never laugh at you for being honest with me,” I assured her. “Just as I would never laugh at the things you find enjoyable.”
“Well …” she reached one slender hand out of the water, her long fingers raking her damp hair back. “There’s this one account—it’s a husband and wife, I think—and they film themselves when they … make love.” She huffed out a wry laugh. “It sounds so silly when there’s endless supplies of kink on Tickle that the thing I enjoy most is watching two people who love one another give each other pleasure.”
My heart leapt into my throat, and suddenly, the gentle brush of her arm against mine didn’t feel like even close to enough for me. “That’s not silly at all,” I rasped. “It’s …” It was perfect. It was so in line with my own fantasies that it seemed impossible.
I needed to drag this moment back from a precipice that I couldn’t allow it to fall over … because the last thing I needed was to make this uncomfortable for her when we had two years of playing husband and wife ahead of us.
“And what sort of sarcastic factoid am I supposed to solicit you with on that?‘Did you know that, in Australia, forty-three percent of marriages end in divorce … but I think these guys are set for life’?” I asked dryly, hoping that would discharge this electric current running between us.
“I really think they might be,” she sighed dreamily. And with a jolt that shot through the entirety of me, I realised that she wanted what those people had. She wanted intimacy, connection, commitment.
“Right. So, we met on Tickle. I approached you,” I said gruffly, forcing myself to focus only on the immediate problem—getting our visa application underway—and not the fact that everything about her was drawing me in. “And we flirted for months over text, and we …”
“Then we decided to meet in real life, at the pool, and we had lunch together—just like in real life—and before long, I was sleeping at your place, and then when my visa was close to expiring, we decided we couldn’t live without each other, and we eloped.” She turned towards me, resting her elbow on the side of the spa and tucking her hair behind her ear. Her breath warmed my cheek … and the rest of me. The thought of her sleeping over, in my bed …
“And we decided to keep it under wraps because I was working on a huge deal to sell shares in Tickle, and we knew that the media would be all over us at a time when I had a lot that needed to be undertakenunder the radar of media scrutiny,” I finished, a smile spreading on my face. “I might actually be able to use TechRaker’s interest in us to our advantage here. They’ve already speculated that we were married, even before the yacht party.”
“So, the photos of us on the yacht, that was like us soft-launching our marriage. Perfect!” She grinned widely, leaning subtly closer to me. I held myself very still, fighting the urge to mirror her movement.
“I wouldn’t gothatfar, but it’s a start. We need to be more than convincing as a couple, Ri. We need tobeperfect.” My voice was rough, and about an octave deeper than normal. Beneath the tang of chlorine, I caught a hint of that intoxicating summer-ness of her.
“Well, you know what they say makes things perfect?” she asked, voice husky. I swallowed heavily, shaking my head. My eyes caught on her lips, pink and wet from the spa and gleaming in the sun. I couldn’t look away.
“Practice.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Credible Chemistry
IRINA
His lips parted, gaze fixed on my mouth.
I should ask permission.
But I was too desperate, too needy for more kisses from this man, so I pressed my mouth to his, silencing anything he might have been about to say.
