He finally looks back at me. He’s never been more gorgeous than he is right now with the sun pouring down on him, highlighting the cut of his cheekbones and sharp jaw, his dark lashes wet and clustered together.
“I’m just wondering if I should take her advice…”
My heart flutters as I resist the urge to flush or fidget or outrightrun. If I were someone listening in on this conversation right now, my jaw would drop. Who is this girl? I barely recognize this version of myself, but I like her.
Cristiano wipes a smile off his full lips and cuts through the water to take a seat on the ledge directly across from me, farther away than I would like. Maybe it’s good, though; from over there he won’t realize how much I’m shaking with nerves.
His head tips to the side. “Have you dated much, Isabel?”
He makes the question sound sinister.
I swallow. “Some.”
“Men like me?”
I almost laugh. Does he think men like him grow on trees? Like there are Cristianos on every street corner? Men with obsidian-black hair and dark, calculating eyes, deep dimples that mock and charm at the same time?
“Some.”
The stretch of his smile tells me he knows I’m lying. I hate him for burrowing so deep so fast. I want to turn the tables, shine the light on him.
“What about you? Have you dated women like me before?”
Women.It’s almost laughable. Right now, I feel every bit the girl I am—silly and inexperienced.
His expression softens, his gaze almost tender when he shakes his head. His eyes lock with mine. “No.”
I don’t know how to take that except as a rejection. Can he tell how naive I am? I’ve always gone for the polite guys, the ones who wait for weeks before they kiss me, and even then, it’s just a peck. Boys with long names that end in III or IV. Boys who want me for my money. Oh sure, they tell me I’m pretty and act interested enough, but it’s impossible to really know their true intentions. With them, I never felt anything but stiffness and obligation.
With Cristiano, there’s nothing but white-hot desire.
I look down at my tattoo, swallow past any last bit of indecision, and then peer up coyly from beneath my lashes. “Am I here on this yacht so you can watch over me? Or is there something else you want to do…”
I watch as the meaning of my question settles over him. His jaw clenches, the muscle pulling taut. “Come here,” he beckons.
A flare of heat spreads low in my belly as I push off my side of the pool. I don’t know if he wants me to take a seat on the ledge beside him or not, but I don’t have to wonder for long. The moment I’m within arm’s reach, he takes ahold of my waist and tugs me close, pinning me between his legs beneath the water.
Panic, fear, and lust all war inside me. He takes my arm and props it up on his shoulder to ensure my tattoo doesn’t get wet.I’m glad he’s thinking about it; that makes one of us. Once he’s certain I won’t accidentally drop my arm in the water, he grabs my waist again, tightening his grip, showing me just how big his hands feel on my body. I sway even closer to him and press my palm against his warm chest.
For that moment, neither of us does a thing, as if we want to be sure the other person isn’t going to suddenly call mercy. Once he’s confident I’m here to stay—at least for the moment—he slowly draws his thumb over my stomach, pressing just beneath my rib cage. My heart riots as I repeat my questions. “Am I just a babysitting assignment to you, or is there something else here? Daniella told me you don’t hook up with Aura employees.”
“I don’t.”
But as he says this, he draws me forward until I tip and fall against him. One of his hands comes up to cup the back of my head, and he tilts my chin to the side so he can lower his mouth to my skin. Tingles spread from where his breath caresses my neck. His lips touch me for the first time just over my pounding pulse, and I shudder as my eyes flutter closed.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he confirms with a dark tone, but he doesn’t stop trailing kisses down my neck.
My nails dig into his chest. “The crew members—”
“—are smart enough to look the other way.”
His lips pave a languid path up to my earlobe. His teeth scrape against my tender skin and my lips fall open on a quiet gasp.
“Isabel. I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” he says passionately.“So let me take care of you.”
He pulls away and his eyes, filled with barely restrained need, look back and forth between mine. There’s no reason to becometimid now, so I crawl onto him, holding his gaze as I seat myself on his lap so my knees can fall to either side of his hips.
Slowly I lower myself down until we’re flush. Nothing separates us but my bikini bottom and his swim trunks, thin material that makes it all too easy for me to rock my hips and get a feel for what it would be like to be completely naked on top of him. The size of his hard length intoxicates me.
