He offers me his hand to help me stand. I take his lead as he pulls me into the ensuite and slowly helps me out of my dress. It lands beside me in a damp thud. He carefully unhooks my bra, eyeing me like I’m about to stop him. I’m not. Then he hooks his finger under my knickers, dragging them down my legs, supporting my balance to step out of them.
There’s something beautifully intimate about the way he wraps an arm around my bare waist now, pressing my body into his as he turns the shower on behind me. He steps out of his shorts too and I fight a smile when I realise he didn’t put any boxers on.
Prepared.
He moves me under the water, shampooing my hair, turning me to face away, careful not to let the water into my eyes. He runs his hands over my body, feeling me, positioning me. My heart races. I think he’s going to take it further.
He’s hard and hot against my back. I want that part of him. I’m almost rocking forward, ready. But he doesn’t take anything from me. It’s all given as he kisses along my shoulder, nipping at my earlobes, massaging my scalp. His spare hand slowly works my clit, thumb circling, until I’m coming undone again, whimpering at the tiles.
“Turn around,” he says afterwards. I do as I’m told. He’s beautiful naked, all strong lines of muscle under freshly tanned skin. “Do you want to touch me?”
Adrenaline has me in its clutches as I step closer to him, running my hands over his chest, taking my time feeling over the ridges on his stomach. He’s so firm and smooth except for the hair there that provides a delightful textureunder my palm. Once I have his warm cock in my hand, he curses, pinching his eyes tight.
He presses his hands flat against the tiles behind me to balance himself as I increase the pressure. He runs his lips along my collarbone, humming low and crackled. “You’re so good.” And moments later. “I’m going to paint your hand.”
I run my mouth over his chest in return, kissing and gasping against him as his body tenses around me. And just as promised, he finishes, pressing his forehead on my shoulder, coating my fingers.
He grabs my face in his hands and kisses me after; my body squished between him and the damp wall. We remain like that until the hot water runs cold. It’s the perfect way to shake us out of the moment. We clean ourselves again, dry, then collapse onto the bed, sated and calm.
It doesn’t take me long to doze off, but as soon as I do, the dream starts. I don’t know how long I’ve been going around this roundabout, alone in this cold car, but my tears are coming hard, and I can’t stop repeating Mum’s name. I’m so tired of doing this. I want off this ride.
“Please just stop!” I yell at the steering wheel, closing my eyes and letting go. Maybe crashing will release me. Maybe that’s been the answer all along. What if I just keep steering around and around and it never lets me off?
I hear the wheels spin. A screech from the tyres.
But I don’t crash.
“You’re ok, Sara,” I hear. “You’re not alone.”
My conscious mind knows it’s not part of the dream and yet I’m not ready to step out yet. A warm arm encircles my waist, pulling me backwards, lips press against my shoulder.Moments before I wake, I see the car hurtling off the side of the road, slamming into a tree but I’m not in it. My body is on the outside, looking in.
I gasp, half-choking awake.
“It’s ok,” he whispers, sitting up with me as I pant out breaths, trying to ground myself again. One of his hands smooths circles on my lower back as he kisses my shoulder. Normally I’d be embarrassed but with Gus, I know I’m safe. He understands.
As the dream drifts away and I come back to myself, I press my face into my palms. “I’m sorry,” I say, my voice muffled.
“Hey,” he scolds gently. “You’re not allowed to apologise.”
“I just… It felt worse than usual.” I turn to read his face, but he only looks concerned. “I think… I think something changed.”
A notch forms between his brows. “Want to talk about it?”
I shake my head. I never want to talk about it again, in fact, I don’t even want to talk. Instead, I lean across and kiss him like it hurts not to. Because right now itdoes. He runs his thumb over my cheek, soothing me, like he knows this kiss is feral but he’s happy to help, happy to be of use.
Once I’m calmer, he presses me back into the pillows, turns me away from him before bringing my body flush with his. I finally fall back to sleep knowing that even if I find myself in that damn car again, he’ll wake me, and I’ll be ok.
Because I’m not alone.
Twenty-NineCruise Location – CannesNext Port – ToulonTime of Departure – 16:00 (GMT+1)
I sleep in Gus’s room that night, lose track of time in the morning and have to rush back to mine – wearing his clothes like an absolute hussy – to shower and change in time for the tour of Cannes. After the drama at Monaco, Gus decides to stay on the yacht. He doesn’t want me in any kind of danger and the risks of him being hounded by fans is too high in an area where he’s been known to frequent.
I take this as my opportunity to do some last-minute gift shopping.
My favourite part of the tour is strolling through the narrow streets of Le Suquet and feeling as if I’ve been immersed into another time with its provincial charm and tiny, privately own trinket shops. Restaurants spill out into the narrow alleyways, covered tables becoming obstacles. Everywhere I look there’s so much more colour – the shutters, doors and walls painted in a mix of pastels.
After consuming my weight in macarons at a quirky café in our free time at the end of the tour, I buy another box and return to the cruise with a forbidden hop in my step. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about last night.
