CHAPTER 18
KATIE
His mouth fuses to mine, hungrily, like he’s been thinking about nothing but kissing me. And my body loves it.
I stand on my tippy toes, pushing up into him, gripping his shirt in my hands. The kiss is intense, hard lips and open mouths, and I forget where I am, who I am, why I am. Right now, I only exist to kiss Nathan Jackson.
“So freaking irresistible,” he mutters against my lips, drawing back to pull in some air.
I remain unmoving, my face turned up to his, my eyes closed in wonder. I’ve been kissed before, but never like this. Never have I wanted the entire world to just disappear so I can stay kissing forever.
“Kitty Kat?” Nathan’s voice is rough, and I reluctantly open my eyes, not wanting to let go of the moment.
“Yeah?” I breathe out, eyes locked with his.
“Was that okay?”
I giggle softly. “I’d say it was more than okay.”
He smiles, his dimple flashing, and I force my hands to unclench his shirt, smoothing down the wrinkles my hungry fists have caused and absolutely not revelling in the hard chest underneath it. His eyes move from mine, flickering behind me, his gleeful grin falling from his face.
“What is it?” I turn to see what’s caused his face to change. “Oh.”
Victoria is standing a few feet from us, her narrowed eyes glued to us.
To where Nathan’s hands are gripping my hips.
A wave of uneasiness crashes over me. Had he kissed me to make her jealous?
Was any of it real? And why, when I know this is the whole reason that I’m here this week—the whole reason we practised kissing before we even got here—does it feel wrong for Nathan to kiss me for any reason other than he can’t not kiss me?
“She looks upset?” I venture, turning back and trying to read his mind. His jaw is clenched, that soft, languid look gone from his eyes. “Do you want to go speak to her?”
He draws himself up and away from me, running a hand through his hair, the only outward sign of his inner turmoil.
“I’m good.” His words are clipped, his tone curt, and I nibble on my bottom lip, unsure what to do—or say—next. “Let’s get a drink.”
I follow behind him, grateful when he stops and takes my hand, feeling an unsteadiness that has nothing to do with the yacht rocking gently under my feet. For one second there, one glorious second, I’d been sure I was kissing a man who wanted to kiss me. Now? I’m not sure it wasn’t all for show.
We head back downstairs, and I distract myself by fan-girling over the crowd of people here on this boat with us today.
Last night I had been too distracted playing the role of triumphant new girlfriend to notice the calibre of people attending this wedding week celebration, but if I’m not mistaken, standing right there, eating what looks like a sausage roll, is the Crown Princess of Denmark.
Like, seriously?
“Is your family like some kind of royalty?” I ask Nathan, accepting a tall glass of tropical juice made fancy with a little pink umbrella.
His eyebrow quirks. “Why do you ask?”
I survey the space around me, fully taking in the yacht for the first time.
In my life, like most people, I’ve not been exposed to such luxury, and the only reference point I have for the size and grandeur of the yacht we’re milling about on is from watching Succession.
And we all know the Roy family was rich. Like richy, rich.
“Um, I guess I never thought about it. You’ve always been Nathan, the guy who stole my Jaffa cakes at school and who drives an innocuous Range Rover.
That doesn’t scream rich in the way that all of this does.
” I wave my hand around, all of a sudden thinking about what all this means.
The gold frosted champagne glasses, the ladies dripping in diamonds, the designer wearing every person.
This isn’t your average wealthy person's wedding; this is the next level.
Gosh, why hadn’t I thought about this until now?
“First, I love Jaffa cakes, and my mother refused to keep them in the house. So, you did me a great service. And second, how dare you insult my Range Rover like that?” His eyes twinkle to show he’s not really insulted, but he’s also not answering my question.
“Nathan.” I tug on his arm to get his full attention. “Tell me.”
He sighs. “I mean, we’re not proper royalty.
But my dad is a distant relative of the King and has some wanky title to go with it.
It’s no big deal. We didn’t get any money from it; my dad inherited the family business from his dad, who inherited it from his dad.
And as first-born son, George will one day take over from him.
It’s the sort of generational wealth that breeds insufferable people.
People I’ve spent most of life trying not to emulate. ”
I absorb what he’s saying. Noble titles, old money, family business, first-born son. It really is like Succession. So where does that leave Nathan? Surely, he’s not the Roman character in all of this?
“Well, you don’t have to worry. You’re nothing like these people.”
His answering smile is swift and bright, like I’d paid him the highest compliment. “Thanks, Kitty Kat.”
I punch his arm lightly to let him know he’s not off the hook. He should have warned me of what exactly I was walking into. Though to be fair, if he had, I probably would have never agreed to turn up.
“We’re not done with this conversation yet.” I glare at him without heat. “But for now, can we go swimming?”
The yacht has dropped anchor just offshore from a small island, the sand so blistering white that it rivals my ankles and feet. The ocean just beyond us is a vibrant mix of turquoise and aqua, and as the sun beats down on us, it looks too inviting to resist.
He smiles, tugging on the hand still in his and guiding me down to the bottom level of the yacht. There, he unbuttons his shirt and shucks it off in a way that shouldn’t be sexy but really, really is.
“Here.” He hands me a tube of sunscreen. “Can you do my back?”
My greedy hands jump at the chance to touch him, and I nod.
Stepping in behind him, I let out a shuddering sigh as my hands slowly, slowly apply the lotion to his back.
His muscles ripple beneath my fingers as I cover every inch of his skin, my hands lingering on the dips of his waist, the ridges on his shoulders. This back? It’s a masterpiece.
“Are you done torturing me?” Nathan’s voice is low, tight-sounding and the hairs on my arms stand to attention at the sound of it.
I force my hands down. “Yes.” My voice trembles.
“My turn now,” he growls.
Gulping, I pull my cover-up up and over my head, too worked up to feel self-conscious standing in front of this man wearing…
almost nothing. His eyes darken, a muscle jumping in his cheek as he stares at me.
His gaze is heated as it moves over me, flaring at the small ties on my shoulders and hips, holding all the pieces of fabric together.
“Turn around,” he orders. I swallow hard and comply. Standing statue-like still, I wait for him to start, quivering with anticipation. After several minutes, I turn to find out what the hold-up is. My skin is crying for him to touch me.
“I need a minute,” he whispers.
I turn back around, the expression on his face almost too much to bear. He looks like a man in pain.
With a shuddering exhale, I shut my eyes to block out the image of dilated pupils and clenched fists and focus instead on breathing. Something that should happen automatically, but suddenly seems like a task I need to work on.
“Right,” he mutters behind me, and then his hands are on me.
He starts by sliding my ponytail over my shoulder, his finger lightly caressing the skin at the nape of my neck as he goes.
I suppress a shudder. Next, he smooths the lotion up and along the back of my arms, pausing at the bows of my bikini, holding the whole thing up on my shoulders.
I can’t suppress the next shudder.
His breath is hot against my skin as his hands trail from the nape of my neck and inch down the length of my back, pausing once again to toy with the strings of my bikini.
They then dip to my waist, his big hands spanning almost all the way around, before returning to smooth out over my hips.
And then, just when I think I can’t take any more, he retraces his movements, starting from my hips and working his way up again.
My heart thumps as his hands return and linger, warm and steady on my hips, his lips pressing the softest kiss between my shoulder blades.
Wow. Just wow.
“I think we both need a swim after that, don’t you?” Nathan grumbles in my ear.
I turn in his arms, my eyes moving over his face. His mouth is a thin line, his jaw is tight, and his nostrils are flared. The hands holding my hips tighten as I stand and stare at him. “Nathan—”
“Hey, you two. Are you coming in or what?”
Rosie. The wonderful interrupter I didn’t know I needed. Because what I was going to say next wasn’t appropriate for a couple of fake-daters. I was about to admit something very real.
I step back, my hips missing Nathan’s hands as they drop to his side.
“Coming!”
Stepping away from the heat of Nathan’s body, I launch myself into the warm Caribbean Sea, wishing it were colder.
Cold enough to douse the flame Nathan’s hands just ignited in me.
Once fully submerged, I return to the surface just in time to see his hard, muscled body moving towards mine, and I know that even an ocean of icy cold water wouldn’t be enough to drown out this attraction I’m feeling towards this man.
And given this is all pretend and ends in a week, that could be a very big problem.
?·?·?
The next morning, I wake up alone again. Still on my side of the bed.