Her eyes flare, heat and fury flashing beneath the gloss.
Good.
A fight, I can handle.
What she does to me? Not a chance.
‘Tell me again how our schedules get to decide this,’ I say, letting amusement curl through my words. ‘See how that works out for you.’
I turn and walk, leaving her there. Kneeling. Wanting. Trembling.
But the truth snaps at my heels…
It’s me on my knees really.
Always has been.
Always will be.
For her. And only her.
13
TAYLOR
‘Is everything in order, Miss Stone?’
I glance up from the tablet to find Charlie watching me from behind the saloon’s gleaming ivory-and-chrome bar. We only met this morning, but she’s exactly what you’d expect from a chief stewardess on a yacht likeAngelica: everything in its place, nothing out of line. Blonde hair drawn tight into a bun. Crisp, white shirt tucked neatly into a black skirt. Polite smile hiding whatever she wants to hide.
She radiates quiet control, the kind I usually possess in spades, the kind I’ve been sorely lacking since he-who-shall-not-be-named flipped my baby-making proposal on its head.
‘I think so,’ I say, wriggling my lying arse into the bar stool because I’ve not got a clue.
I’m supposed to be signing off on the catering plans for tonight’s dinner – our final evening together before the newlyweds jet off with Lottie for the next leg of their honeymoon – but my brain’s about as focused as a soap bubble.
‘Almost there,’ I add quickly, scrolling back to the top of the screen and crossing my legs so tight, my calves start to ache.But I’d rather feel that than the pulse building low in my abdomen as my eyes wander once more…
Past the plush white sofas, the mirrored tables, the pale teak floor, towards the curved wall of glass and the pool deck just beyond.
The pool deck – and the man taking centre stage.
Axel.
He’s waist-deep in the water, sunlight skimming over inked muscle as rivulets trail down his skin like a caress I ache to give – one he’d sooner bind my hands to deny me. He tips his head back, both hands pushing into his wet hair, and I forget how to breathe.
Charlie makes a noise – did she just gulp? Or was that me? Great. Mortifying.
‘Could I get a mimosa please, Charlie?’ Anything to cover up my lack of cool.
Her eyes snap to mine, a faint flush creeping into her carefully made-up face. ‘Of course, Miss Stone.’
Maybe it wasn’t me after all…
She sets about making my drink while I force myself to study the catering plan – scanning lines and ticking boxes – but my hands move on autopilot. All I can feel is the slow, deep ache that’s been coiled under my skin since yesterday.
And I thought the worst kind of torment was Axel taking me to the brink with his own climax and walking away.
I was wrong.
