Page 98 of After the Chase

The sun is relentless here. It beats down on the deck with an intensity that makes everything shimmer, the water, the sky, even the air itself seems to vibrate with heat. I'm lying on a lounge chair, supposedly reading, but I haven't turned a page in twenty minutes. I can't stop watching Noah.

He's alternating between press-ups and sit-ups on the deck, wearing only his swim shorts, his body moving with ease like those professional gym influencers you see online. The sun has turned his skin the color of burnt honey, and his tattoos are fucking stunning, the array of patterns spanning his shoulders, the symbols winding down his ribs, the intricate designs covering his arms and neck glow against his tanned skin. He's beautiful in a way that makes my chest ache.

The muscles of his chest contract and release with each movement. His shoulders are broad, powerful, built for strength and controlling me in bed. There's a thin line of sweat running down his sternum, and I find myself mesmerized by the way it catches the light. I lick my lips at the idea of tasting him. I'm swooning. Actually swooning like some lovesick fool.

And I don't care.

Three sit-ups from the end, Noah's eyes open and find me immediately. He knows I'm watching, the guy has a built in radar when it comes to me. He finishes the final three with deliberate slowness, making sure I see every muscle, every movement. It's a performance, and we both know it. A reminder of his physical dominance and how he owns me in all ways.

When he stands, he's breathing heavily as he strides over to me as if I’m watching a scene in slow motion, sweat dripping down his body, and I have to force myself to breathe normally.

"You're staring," he says.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you're gorgeous." The words come out before I can stop them. "Because the sun makes your skin look like gold and your tattoos look like they're alive and I can't stop thinking about…"

“About what, baby?” he asks, his voice low as he leans down over me, caging me in between his strong arms.

“How they look when you hurt someone. I can’t stop thinking about how they look when you fuck me,” I pant, delirious as if I’ve been drugged.

He leans down closer and kisses me, cutting off the rest of my rambling confession. When he pulls back, there's something almost like amusement in his eyes.

"Looks like someone is horny," he says.

"Obviously."

I glance toward the interior of the yacht, where the staff moves silently through their duties. I noticed when we arrived that none of them looked at me or even spoke to me, and it’s pretty weird to be so obviously ignored, but I know why.

"You told the crew not to acknowledge me, didn’t you? You threatened them." Noah's expression hardens slightly.

"Yes," he says before he moves back and sits on the edge of my lounge chair, his wet body dripping onto the cushion. "I made it very clear what would happen if any of them looked at you. If they spoke to you or acknowledged your presence in any way beyond absolute necessity."

"Everyone is always so terrified of you," I say.

He reaches out and traces a line down my bare chest. "That's exactly how it should be. You're mine. And anyone who forgets that will learn the hard way."

A deckhand passes by, carefully keeping his eyes fixed on the horizon, he doesn't even glance in our direction, almost as if we do not exist, but the fear radiating off him is almost palpable. I guess when you tell someone not to look or talk it makes it harder for them, as humans are naturally curious and social, to an extent. I decide to change the subject so I can at least calm down the hard dick in my shorts.

"My books are doing well, and I have more pre-orders for the third installment.”

"I know, I checked yesterday." Of course he did. Noah's fingers continue their lazy path across my skin. He leans down and kisses my forehead. Before he can go any further, my phone buzzes from the table next to my sun lounger. It’s a FaceTime call from Tyler. I hesitate at first, glancing at Noah before he nods, but not without a deep sigh of annoyance. I answer, and Tyler's face fills the screen, Ivan visible behind him on the couch.

"Hey!" Tyler's voice is bright. "How's Miami?"

"Too damn hot, but I’m enjoying it,"

"Good. You deserve…" Tyler's cut off as Ivan leans further into the frame, his expression eager.

"Is Noah there?" Ivan asks. "Let me talk to him. I miss my bestie."

I can feel Noah's body tense beside me, with a barely audible groan of irritance.

"Noah, Ivan wants to talk to you," I say and it takes all my energy not to laugh out loud as Noah takes the phone from my hand with deliberate slowness. His expression is perfectly neutral, but I’m sure if he could burn Ivan into dust with a stare through the phone, he would.

"What do you want? Also, I told you to stop messaging me those damn videos," he says quietly.