What’s confusing is how much I enjoy that pressure, that suffocating feeling of being under his command.
I press the rim of the champagne flute to my lips, tipping back half the contents. I should remember how to act like a lady. Gulping champagne like a parched baboon won’t go down well with my elegant mother.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” My voice wobbles, betraying the whirlwind of emotions and thoughts I’m clumsily navigating.
Colt’s lips curl into a smile against my temple, the heat of his breath seeping into my skin. He leaves a gentle kiss there, falling effortlessly into the role of my boyfriend. “Good girl.”
Oh my...
Those two words send shockwaves of desire through my body that settle in a pulsating knot between my legs. Two words shouldn’t have so much power.Coltshouldn’t have so much power, but the praise, his scent, warmth, and intimacy make me crave him all the more.
Felix helps me out—God bless his soul—as I search for a response to Colt’s teasing. The partition slides down and he spins around in the driver’s seat.
“The itinerary has changed, Miss Weston. You’re set to sail at six o’clock rather than eight. I’m to ensure your safe arrival at the docks as soon as possible. Are there any stops you need to make along the way?”
“No, thank you, Felix.”
His hat tips in acknowledgment before the partition glides shut and he pulls into the bustling traffic.
The jittery anxiety I expected doesn’t grip me as hard while Colt’s thumb traces patterns on my arm, until twenty minutes later when we stop and Felix opens the back door.
“One Island Park,” he announces. “Please make your way to the yacht. I expect your family is already on board. I’ll take care of the luggage.” He nods at the gate to the marina, nestled between towering hedges.
“Which one is yours?” Colt scans four superyachts docked nearby, curiosity and a tiny bit of awe seeping into his tone.
“The biggest one.” I point atSerenity. “My dad’s motto isgo big or go home.”
Colt nods, eyeingSerenity. She’s a sight to behold, that’s for sure. My father commissioned her four years ago after spending a year with the designer, working on the smallest detail. At over seven hundred feet, she’s one of the largest yachts in the world—a fact my father never fails to mention.
It’s a modern floating palace stretching across the water. The white hull and shiny chrome accents scream sophistication, more of which drips from every custom-made piece of furniture and chandelier. Our family isn’t big, butSerenityhouses twenty-two individual suites, each complete with walk-in closets, spacious bedroom slash living areas and bathrooms.
Plenty of places to hide tiny cameras. The thought makes me shudder as we step onto the main deck. I shudder again when we come face to face with my parents. They’re a fair distance away, given that the main deck stretches over sixty yards. They’re inside, standing by the bar.
“I never asked how big this engagement celebration is going to be,” Colt muses. “How many people.”
“Mom said it’ll be a small gathering and that usually means about twenty or so.” I slow my steps, buying me an extra moment before facing my mother, Victoria Weston, in all her intimidating, elegant, snobbish glory.
“I’d advise you not to leave me unattended. I mightget lost on this boat.”
I let out a soft chuckle, dispelling a little stiffness from my shoulders. “Don’tcall this aboatinfront of my dad.”
Our banter is cut short as we step inside, drawing my parents’ attention. They turn in sync at the sound of our steps in the open space.
The look crossing my mother’s face is nothing short of priceless. With her perfectly coiffed hair and aristocratic vibe, she comes across as part of the monarchy, at the very least.
Her initial deep shock fades as she adjusts her expression so as not to appear impolite in front of my guest. Too bad she can’t hide the skepticism in her eyes.
“Audrey, darling,” she coos, laying it on thick as she extends both arms, pulling me into a tight embrace topped off with a bunch of air kisses. “I’m so glad you made it.”
Like I’d miss my brother’s engagement... thingy. What the hell is this called? Not a party. Parties don’t last a week. Colt said celebration, but that still feels like a stretch.
Mom’s eyes assess Colt. “I didn’t realize you were bringing someone.”
“I told you I wouldn’t be alone. This is my-my—”
“Boyfriend,” Colt interjects. “Colt Hayes.” He stamps an obligatory kiss on my mother’s hand. “It’s a pleasure.”
“My, my.” She beams, face lighting up with interest. “Aren’t you a surprise?”
