Chapter 19 #2
He twists the stem of his champagne glass between his roughened fingertips for a long while, watching the liquid slosh from side to side.
Then he picks it up, tilts to his lips, and swallows all of it.
When he sets it down, he stares into the remaining flickering candle as he starts to speak.
“After my father’s funeral, I hunted them down.
They thought I’d forgotten or forgiven. But I’d done neither.
I did it all myself—tracked their footsteps, triangulated their location.
Idiots that they were, they didn’t even go far.
I found them in the woods, in a forest cabin they once used for their clandestine getaways while my mother was still married to my father.
I waited until they were both inside, then I locked the doors from the outside and lit it on fire. ”
My stomach turns. “Stefan—”
“You asked. I answered. My turn again.” His eyes are ice. “Truth or dare?”
I’ve used up my truths. “Dare.”
A slow, treacherous smile spreads across his face. “Kiss me.”
“That’s not—”
“It’s my dare. You agreed to the rules.”
My legs move before my brain catches up, carrying me around the table on unsteady feet. The fake champagne bubbles in my veins, or maybe it’s just fear making me dizzy, but either way, I’m unsteady in my heels, floating more than walking.
Stefan’s eyes track my every step, that mismatched gaze burning through me.
I bend forward, my hair falling loose from its pins, and brush my mouth against his—barely a whisper of contact before I pull back.
“That’s not a kiss,” he says against my mouth. “That’s a cop-out.”
“You didn’t specify—”
His hand comes up to cup the back of my neck, and he pulls me into his lap. This kiss is nothing like the first one. This is heat and hunger and months of tension finally breaking.
When we finally pull apart, we’re both breathing hard.
“Truth or dare?” I whisper.
“Dare.”
“Take off your jacket.”
He does, tossing it onto the deck. “Truth or dare?”
“Dare.”
“Take off those shoes. They’re killing you.”
I slip off the Louboutins with a sigh of relief. “How did you know?”
“I see you,” he says simply. He runs his thumb along my ankle. “Truth or dare?”
“Dare.”
“Come swimming with me.”
“I don’t have a bathing suit.”
“Neither do I.” He stands, setting me on my feet. “That’s the point.”
Before I can talk myself out of it, Stefan is stripping off his shirt. The moonlight catches the scars and tattoos I’ve memorized in better days and makes them glow. He kicks off his shoes, unbuttons his pants.
My eyes track each revealed inch of skin. My breath catches as his pants drop. But instead of stopping this, which would be the only reasonable response, the strong woman response, I do the dumb, reckless thing instead.
I reach behind me and unzip the Dior dress. It pools at my feet in a puddle of silk.
Stefan’s eyes go black. “Fuck, Olivia—”
“You dared me to go swimming.” I unhook my bra and let it fall. “I’m going swimming.”
I walk to the edge of the yacht and dive in before I can change my mind.
The water is cold enough to shock, but warm enough to bear. I surface, gasping, and find Stefan already in the water beside me.
“Truth or dare?” he asks, swimming closer.
“Truth.”
“Do you want me?”
“Yes.” I cling to his shoulders for buoyancy. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“Do you want me? Not just because I’m carrying your baby. Not because of the clinic. Do you want me for me?”
He pulls me against him, our bodies slick and warm in the cool water. “Yes, Olivia. God, yes.”
We kiss under the full moon, treading water, hands exploring skin we’ve memorized but somehow never really touched. Not truly. The game continues between gasps and moans.
“Truth or dare?”
“Dare.”
“Touch me.”
“Where?”
“Everywhere.”
We drift in the ocean, the yacht rocking gently nearby, and I let Stefan’s hands explore every inch of me. When I return the favor, he groans into my neck.
“We should get back on the boat,” he says eventually.
“Why?”
“Because if we don’t, I’m going to fuck you in the ocean, and you deserve better than that.”
“Maybe I don’t want better.”
But he’s already swimming toward the yacht, and I follow because my body won’t do anything else.
We climb aboard, dripping and naked, and Stefan grabs towels from somewhere. He wraps one around my shoulders, then pulls me close. “Spend the night with me.”
“Are you daring me to?”
“No.” His thumb traces my jaw. “I’m asking. You’re free to say no.”
The vulnerability in his eyes is what does it in the end. This isn’t the monster snarling threats or the tyrant barking orders.
This is just Stefan, asking me to stay.
“Okay,” I murmur. “Yes.”
He kisses me again, softer this time. “Come on. Let’s get you warm.”
He leads me below deck to the master cabin, where he’s already laid out clean sheets and turned down the bed. It’s such a small, thoughtful gesture, but it speaks volumes.
“You planned this,” I say.
“I hoped.” He towels off my hair with surprising gentleness. “There’s a difference.”
I let him dry me off, let him pull back the covers, let him tuck me in. When he slides in beside me, I curl into his warmth without thinking.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For tonight.”
“We’re not done yet.” His arm comes around my waist. “We still have a lot to talk about.”
“I know. But can it wait until morning?”
“Yes.” He presses a kiss to my shoulder. “It can wait.”