Chapter 26
KRISTA
The ferry ride from Mykonos to Santorini was peaceful. Dash and I stood at the railing, watching the islands pass by, his arm around my waist like it was the most natural thing in the world. We didn’t talk much. We didn’t need to.
Something had shifted between us on that yacht, and we both knew it.
It wasn’t just the sex, although the sex was phenomenal.
I didn’t think I would ever get enough of the man.
He was so fucking perfect behind closed doors.
It was all about stripping away that cocky outer layer and getting to the man under it all.
And I really liked that guy. That guy was hot. Sexy as sin.
I’d never felt this kind of contentment before. So settled. Happy. I wasn’t thinking about the next ten minutes or even the next ten days. I was in the moment, which rarely happened. It was strange but in the best way.
When we arrived in Santorini, I had expected him to book us into some five-star hotel with separate rooms and all the professional distance we should have been maintaining. Instead, he’d rented a villa.
“Two bedrooms,” he said when he showed me the listing on his phone. “But we’re sharing the space. Makes more sense logistically.”
I raised an eyebrow at that. “Logistically?”
“Yeah. We’re working together. We need to be able to coordinate easily. Plus, more guests are coming in for the show. Hotels are getting booked up. The villas are rented. I’m thinking ahead.”
He wasn’t wrong. But I also knew that wasn’t the real reason. I didn’t mind, though.
The villa was stunning. White-washed walls and blue shutters, perched on the cliffside with a view of the caldera that made my chest ache.
It was stunning. I should have known it would be luxurious.
As if the Blackwell family was going to stay in anything less than amazing.
I had already learned that on this trip.
I moved through the villa and out to the private patio with an infinity pool that seemed to spill right into the sea.
I walked straight to the edge of that pool and stared out at the water, already imagining what it would be like to slip in with Dash after dark.
To feel his hands on me under the stars again.
I wanted to christen this place the way we’d christened that yacht. And the beach.
I heard Dash talking and turned around, ready to suggest exactly that when I realized he was on his phone carrying his laptop to the outdoor sitting area. He sat down and was wholly focused on the screen.
Okay. I could wait. Dash was working, and the last thing I wanted to do was derail him. I meandered around the villa, checking out the fridge stocked with water, fruit juices, and an assortment of snacks.
I poured myself an Aperol spritz from the fully stocked bar and settled into one of the lounge chairs to watch him work.
I told myself I should probably be working too, checking in with vendors, confirming final details.
But I couldn’t bring myself to move. I was mesmerized.
And he was handling it. My job was to watch him. I was. A lot.
He was in full business mode. He’d abandoned his shirt somewhere, which was making things even more difficult. I was only human. I was staring at eye candy and being told I couldn’t indulge. But I knew I could touch him if I wanted to, so I was only at war with myself.
I hadn’t been lying when I told him watching him be all determined and focused was a total turn-on.
It was in every way. I listened to him negotiate with someone about seating arrangements.
He wasn’t throwing money at the problem or using charm to smooth things over. He was solving it. Actually solving it.
“I understand that’s not standard,” he was saying. “But we’re talking about ten additional front-row seats for VIP guests. I need you to work with me here. What would it take to make that happen?”
He listened, nodding and making notes on his laptop.
“Okay. Yes. I can authorize that. Send me the updated floor plan and I’ll approve it tonight.” A pause. “Perfect. Thank you.”
He hung up and immediately started typing, pulling up what looked like a seating chart. I watched his eyes scan the screen. God, he was sexy like this. Competent and completely in control.
I set down my drink and walked over to him. He didn’t notice at first, too absorbed in whatever he was working on. I came around behind his chair and started playing with his hair, running my fingers through the dark strands.
“Hey,” he said without looking away from the screen.
“Hey, yourself.”
I moved around to stand in front of him, blocking his view of the laptop. He looked up at me, one eyebrow raised in question. I answered by climbing into his lap and straddling him. My arms went around his neck. His hands immediately went to my hips, then slid lower to squeeze my ass.
“I’m working,” he said, but there was no heat in it.
“I know. I’m watching you work. It’s very impressive.”
He smirked. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I ran my fingers through his hair again. “I’m proud of you.”
Something flickered across his face. Surprise. Or pleasure. “You are?”
“I am. You’re handling all of this like a pro. You’re not just putting out fires anymore. You’re preventing them.”
He leaned back in the chair, looking up at me with those stunning eyes. “You whipped me into shape with your no-nonsense ways.”
“Did I?”
“Absolutely. I was getting scared you were going to start making me do push-ups and planks.”
I giggled despite myself. The sound felt foreign coming out of my mouth. When was the last time I’d giggled? “That sounds fun. Why haven’t I thought to do that already?”
“Please don’t. I’m barely surviving as it is.”
I kissed him. He tasted like coffee. When I pulled back, I knew I had properly distracted him.
“Come swim with me,” I said.
“I can’t. I’m waiting on a call from Callum. I’m setting some boundaries early. I don’t want Mr. Hollywood strolling in here and thinking he’s taking over my show. I want to make sure I understand exactly why he’s coming.”
“I love when you talk dirty,” I said.
He laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest into mine. “Boundaries and intentions are dirty talk now?”
“Oh yeah. Want to feel just how exciting I find that kind of talk?”
I kissed him again. The heat between us was building fast, and I was about two seconds from suggesting we forget about Callum’s call entirely when Dash’s phone started buzzing on the table beside us.
He groaned against my mouth. “Worst timing ever.”
“Answer it,” I said, climbing off his lap reluctantly. “Set your boundaries.”
“It’s not him, but I do have to take this,” he said.
I moved to the edge of the patio, giving him space but staying close enough to hear his side of the conversation. He hung up and tossed the phone back on the table. He held out his arm, indicating he wanted me back in his lap.
I was happy to oblige. We sat there for a moment, just holding each other. It was almost too perfect.
“I’ve been waiting for you to bring something up,” I said quietly. “But since you haven’t, I will.”
He pulled back to look at me. “What?”
“What happens after the runway show? When we go back to New York?”
His eyes traveled over my face like he was memorizing every detail or trying to decide where to start devouring first. Pure desire was written all over his face. I’d never seen that before. Never had a man look at me like I was both fragile and strong and worthy of being worshiped.
It was jarring. And freeing.
For the first time in over a decade, I felt like I could be myself. Not the hardened military officer. Not the logistics expert who had to be tougher than everyone else in the room to be taken seriously. Just me. The woman I’d buried when my mother died.
“I’d like to keep seeing you,” Dash said, his thumb tracing circles on my hip. “If you want to, of course.”
Oh, good God. I would walk across broken glass with no shoes if he used that deep voice while touching me.
“Maybe you can find a role with me in logistics,” he continued. “We make a pretty killer team.”
I smiled despite the anxiety creeping in. “I don’t date colleagues.”
He shrugged, that infuriating smirk playing at his lips. “Then maybe we should make sure we don’t date for too long.”
I stared at him. “What does that mean?”
He grinned. Was that a promise of a future or a fiery end? With him, it really could go either way.
What if the version of me he’d fallen for, the one who wore dresses and sang under the stars, wasn’t the real me at all? What if that woman was just a vacation fantasy, and the real me was the one who wore cargo pants and kept her hair in a severe bun and didn’t know how to relax?
I’d spent years building those defenses.
The military identity that kept me close to my father as we navigated the loss of my mother together.
The discipline and structure that helped me heal.
All my friends were in that world. That was my life.
I was a civilian, but I wasn’t. I didn’t know how to be the typical woman.
What if Dash only wanted this Greek vacation version of me? Would he expect me to change to be the person I was here and not the real me? Which version was the real one? I didn’t even know anymore.
The thought hit me like a punch to the gut. How had I not paused sooner to realize the truth of this situation? Dash and I could never work. Because he didn’t actually know me.
He knew the woman who let her guard down for a week. He didn’t know the woman who woke up early every morning for a five-mile run. Who ate the same breakfast every day because routine was comforting. I didn’t have hobbies or close friends or any idea how to just exist without a mission to complete.
“Krista?” His voice pulled me back. “You okay?”
I looked at him and tried to find the words to explain I wasn’t the woman who crawled into a man’s lap. Thankfully, his phone rang and I didn’t have to.
I climbed off his lap. “Good luck,” I said with a tight smile.
“I’ll make this quick,” he replied. “And then I want you in my lap—preferably without clothes.”