Deep. Slow. Again.
Each movement was a conversation, a nonverbal confirmation of everything that had passed between us. Then she shifted, her hands on my shoulders. With a lithe movement, she rolled me onto my back, the mattress groaning in protest, and straddled me, taking me inside her again.
The sight of her above me, in control, sent a bolt of pure lust through my system. This was what I’d beencraving without knowing it. Her confidence, her power, her complete ownership of the moment.
She sat up, her back arching, her hands threading through her wild, blonde hair and lifting it off her neck. The low light of the cabin sculpted the curves of her breasts, the flat plane of her stomach, the gentle flare of her hips.
And I was lost.
The sight of her, so confident and beautiful, was the most arousing thing I had ever seen. She was a siren in the low light of my cabin, claiming me. I was powerless to resist. I had no desire to resist.
“You like this,” she said, her voice husky with satisfaction as she watched my face. “You like me taking charge.”
“Yes,” I managed to rasp, my hands gripping her hips. “God, yes.”
She began to move, a slow, sensual rhythm that was pure, exquisite torture. My hands came up to grip her hips, my thumbs pressing into the soft skin, helping to guide her, to increase the friction, the pleasure, for both of us. But she was setting the pace, controlling the depth, the angle, everything.
“Faster?” she asked, her voice breathless but commanding.
“Whatever you want,” I groaned. “You’re in control.”
The admission seemed to ignite something in her. She leaned forward, her hands braced on my chest, and began to move with more urgency. The pace quickened, her movements becoming more demanding, her breaths coming in sharp, ragged gasps that matched my own.
I watched her face, saw the moment she found the angle that made her cry out, saw her eyes flutter closed as she chased her pleasure. She was magnificent—wild and uninhibited and mine.
The wave built between us, a shared, rising tide. The coil of pleasure inside me spooled, past the point of bearing.
“Iris,” I gasped out, my control shattering. “I’m?—”
“Yes,” she breathed, her movements becoming frantic. “Now.”
She threw her head back, a cry tearing from her throat as her climax hit. It was that—her complete and total surrender in the midst of her dominance—that sent me over the edge. A deep, ragged groan ripped from my throat as my world exploded into a wave of white-hot, blinding release.
I don’t know how long we lay there afterward, her body a welcome weight on top of mine. The only sounds were our harsh, ragged breathing slowly returning to normal. Her head was tucked into the curve of my neck, her hair tickling my chin. I held her, my arms wrapped tightly around her, my hand stroking her sweat-slicked back as the whirring A/C slowly dried it.
In the breathless aftermath, with the gentle rocking of the boat a soothing rhythm beneath us, the wall inside me cracked. I sensed the shift, a tectonic movement deep in my soul. This was a terrifying, undeniable connection to another human being.
Whether I wanted it or not, whether I was ready for it or not, this woman was a part of me now. She had burrowed her way past years of defenses, past all the warning signs and tripwires I’d so carefully laid. She was here, in my arms, in my sanctuary, in my head.
Most of all, I could no longer deny that she was deeply lodged in my heart.
Chapter Twenty-Four
AUSTIN
The morning sunbeamed through the porthole, warm and gentle as it painted a gold stripe across Iris’s bare shoulder. The side of my body was half propped up against the cool, curved fiberglass of the hull. She nestled next to me with my arms wrapped loosely around her.
For the first time in forever, my mind was quiet.
The usual pre-dawn litany of worries and old ghosts was absent. In its place was the steady rhythm of her breathing, the warmth of her skin against mine, and the sweet scent of her hair mingling with the comforting smell of saltwater and old wood that permeated every inch ofLine Dancer. It was a fragile peace, an unfamiliar contentment that I was almost afraid to breathe, for fear it might shatter like glass.
She stirred, her sleepy blue eyes finding mine. A slow, languid smile spread across her lips, a smile meant only for me. “Morning, Captain.”
“Hello there.” I tightened my arm around her and pulled her closer.
Her gaze drifted to the corner of the cabin, where a half-dozen rods stood in their custom-built rack.
“Now that I’m a seasoned angler, I have to know.” Her voice was full of lazy, morning curiosity. “What’s the biggest fish you ever caught?”
