16. Alex Sebring
Chapter 16
Alex Sebring
The yacht glides to a stop, the soft rattle of the anchor chain cutting through the stillness of the night. Newcastle’s coastline lies in the distance—a jagged silhouette softened by the faint glow of city lights. Close enough to glimpse, yet far enough to feel like a world apart. Out here, we’re untouchable. Hidden. Exactly how I want it.
I step onto the deck, the night air cool against my skin, rich with the scent of salt and freedom. The sea is calm, gently rocking the boat in a rhythm that reminds me we’re floating in our own private world. Overhead, countless stars spill across the sky, and the moon stretches a silver path across the water. It’s a quiet invitation to nowhere but here.
Charleston stands at the bow, barefoot, her silhouette glowing softly in the moonlight. A weekend like this—her beside me every morning, hair tangled on the pillow, her hand drifting lazily over my chest—and I’m already forgetting what it feels like to be alone.
I step behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist as the breeze tousles her hair. She leans into me, her body fitting against mine. “It’s just us out here.”
She tilts her head slightly, her smile soft but teasing. “Think you can survive an entire weekend alone with me, Captain Swoony?”
My lips brush against her ear. “ Survive ? Charleston, I will thrive .”
She glances back at me, her eyes sparking with mischief. “Big words. You sure you’re not overestimating yourself?”
I slide my hands along her waist. “Oh, I’ve got stamina. The real question is do you?”
She leans back into me. “Puh-lease. You’ll be the one tapping out by Sunday.”
I pull her a little closer. “Challenge accepted.”
She laughs softly, the sound as tranquil as the waves lapping against the hull.
“Give me a minute. I’ll be right back.”
I head below deck to grab a couple of blankets and a few pillows. When I return, she’s still at the bow, her hair catching the moonlight.
I spread the blankets and pillows across the sun pad, making it cozy. “Come here, favorite.”
She turns, a small smile playing on her lips, and walks over with that easy, unhurried grace. When she reaches me, I settle onto my back and pat the spot beside me. “Perfect spot for you.”
She sinks onto the sun pad with a smooth, effortless motion. “Do you always go to this much trouble to impress?”
I tug the blanket over both of us as she settles in beside me. “Only when it’s worth it.”
She stretches out, nestling closer, resting her head on my chest. Her breath is warm against my neck, and the steady rhythm of her breathing syncs with the gentle sway of the boat. The night air carries a cool edge, and I tuck the blanket around her shoulders. The soft hum of music drifts through the speakers, blending with the distant whisper of waves against the yacht.
Her hand rests lightly on my chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns over the fabric of my sweater. “Do you do this often?”
I glance down at her, brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek. “Not like this.”
“Not like this ? You’re telling me this isn’t your signature move––bringing a girl out to the middle of nowhere, charming her with the moon and stars?”
Oh, if she only knew. “Hardly. My past dates were for show because that’s the way the women liked it. Dinners, events, places where people could see us out on the town together. None of them cared about the quiet like this—or being with me with no one else around to see us.”
Her fingers rest on my chest. “So, I’m the first woman who’s ever wanted this––being with you without onlookers?”
“You’re the first, Charleston. And that makes you different. You see me, and you care about the parts no one else has ever bothered to notice.”
“Every part of you is worth noticing.”
The words between us are heavy, and for a moment, neither of us speaks. She goes quiet, letting the stillness wrap around us, her gaze drifting upward to the sky.
I follow her line of sight, the stars scattered across the night like fragments of a story waiting to be told. “See that cluster there?” I point toward the horizon. “That’s Orion’s Belt—three stars perfectly aligned.”
Charleston shifts, her head settling more comfortably on my shoulder for a better view.
“My grandfather used to show me the constellations when I was a kid. He’d tell me how the old Polynesian navigators used the stars to cross the ocean. No GPS, no maps—only the night sky.”
“You know all the constellations?”
I grin, tracing another shape in the sky. “A lot of them.”
“You’re really intelligent, you know that?”
I huff a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “Women don’t usually say that to me.”
If she knew the truth, those words would likely never leave her mouth. Realizing I read like a young child—slow, stumbling, struggling to piece together words—might make her think again.
The thought stings, but I push it away. Right now, I’d rather focus on what she sees in me, not what she doesn’t know.
“Maybe those other women weren’t paying attention to the right things.”
Her words wrap around me like the blanket tucked over us—warm, comforting, and undeniably her.
“Tell me more about Samoan culture.”
I blink, the unexpected question throwing me for a moment. Most women stick to the polished parts—the rugby fame, the paparazzi flashes, the family business, flashy dinners, or the G-Wagons.
“Women don’t ask about that side of me. They act like it doesn’t exist.”
“Then you’ve been dating the wrong women.”
The moonlight casts a gentle glow on the curve of her cheek as she waits for my answer. There’s something in her gaze, steady and unhurried, that tells me she’s not asking to be polite. She truly wants to know. She wants to know me . All of me.
She shifts closer, her hand pressing more firmly against my chest. “Your heritage is a huge part of you. I want to know all the facets of who you are.”
The way she says it, soft yet certain, hits deeper than I expected. I clear my throat and turn my gaze back to the stars. “My mom’s a feisty Samoan through and through. Family means everything to her—our heritage, our traditions. She made sure we grew up connected to it. We’re a big family. Loud. Loving. Completely chaotic. Every birthday, wedding, or reunion turns into a huge event. Everyone shows up, whether you want them to or not. And there’s always enough food to feed an army.”
“There would need to be plenty of food if they all eat like you do.” She giggles. “Sounds like a nice kind of chaos.”
“It is. Samoan culture is built on respect. Respect for your elders, your family, your traditions. There’s a deep sense of responsibility, like you’re always a part of something bigger than yourself.”
Her hand drifts lazily over my chest. “And marriage? What does that mean in Samoan culture?”
“Marriage isn’t only about two people. It’s a bond between families. It’s about trust, loyalty, and building something that lasts. There’s a saying: O le aiga e tumau le fa’avavau . It means family is forever. When you marry someone, you’re bringing them into that forever.”
She’s quiet for a beat.
“Forever sounds beautiful,” she says, as though she’s turning the idea over in her mind.
I lean down, brushing a light kiss against her hair. “It’s a beautiful commitment, Charleston.”
A beautiful commitment I’m ready for.
“My father is Swedish-Australian. Of course, my siblings and I took our dad’s surname, but my mum always made one thing very clear: where we come from matters. She’s never let us forget that. She takes us back to Samoa at least twice a year. No quick visits either—we stay for weeks so we can reconnect with the culture.”
I chuckle softly, a smile tugging at my lips as I picture her. “My mum’s a strong woman who doesn’t take shit from anyone. And she’s got plenty of opinions to go around. Fierce is the best word to describe her.”
Charleston tilts her head up toward me, a sly grin playing on her lips. “Are you describing your mom or me?”
“The two of you have a lot in common.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Trust me, saying that you have a lot in common with a strong woman like my mum is a compliment.” And it’s the truth.
Strong women don’t intimidate me. They keep me grounded.
We drift into an easy silence. The boat sways gently, the music a soft hum in the background. Her hand moves absently under the hem of my sweater, her fingers warm against my skin.
“Your tattoos are elaborate. Did they hurt?”
“It’s a sharp, intense sting that doesn’t let up. Not exactly pain—more like pressure and heat combined.”
Her hand moves over my chest. “Tell me why you do it.”
“Every line tells a story—family, heritage, moments that shaped me. It’s not just ink. It’s who I am.”
Her fingertips trail along the curve of a design near my ribs. “How long did it take to finish them?”
“The pe’a—the traditional one—was done over a few weeks. Long days of sitting still, enduring it. Some of the others, like the personal ones, I’ve added over the years. My tattoos are a work in progress.”
She hums thoughtfully, her hand continuing its lazy exploration. “Because your story continues, and you have many different stages of life ahead of you?”
I glance down at her, something tightening in my chest at how easily she understands. “That’s it exactly.”
Her fingers trace over one of the older designs, pressing gently, as if she can feel the stories etched into my skin. For once, I don’t mind letting someone glimpse the parts of me I usually keep to myself.
As her hand glides over my skin, every nerve ending ignites, and my body reacts to her touch. I let out a low, guttural moan as she teases me. The pleasure builds and builds until I’m completely consumed by desire.
“Your touch is driving me wild.”
“Sorry,” she says, a faux apology, and then leans in closer so her breath brushes against my ear. “ Not … sorry,” she whispers, her words rich with seduction and mischief.
A fierce passion ignites within me, consuming my entire being and intensifying my longing for her. I can’t fight the irresistible pull between us and I move closer, positioning myself on top of her. With very movement she makes and every breath she takes, the fire burning inside of me grows stronger.
“I don’t think you realize the effect you have on me.” I’m completely under her spell.
She pushes against my chest, and we roll, her body now on top of mine. Our legs tangle together as she settles on top, her soft curves pressing into me. I’m trapped beneath her, feeling the heat of her body pressed tightly against mine as she leans in for a kiss. Her lips meet mine with an urgent hunger, sending warm tingles through my body.
She presses her index finger against my lips, her words a soft whisper. “Hold that thought for a minute.”
She pulls away, rising gracefully to her feet. The cool night air and sultry melody fill the space, wrapping around her as she moves to the music’s rhythm. Her body sways with a sensual confidence, every roll of her hips mesmerizing, each movement drawing me in more.
One by one, layers of fabric slip from her skin, fluttering to the deck like whispers in the dark. Her flawless curves stoke the fire inside me, the tension tightening with every piece she lets fall.
We’re like two flames burning in the darkness, drawn together by a force we can’t resist. My hands ache to pull her back down to me, to let go of restraint and lose myself in her completely. But somewhere deep inside, a thread of control holds me back, whispering that something better awaits.
Her figure, bare and inviting, beckons me with a slow, seductive finger, her lips curling into a tempting smile. “Come here.”
I do as she says, moving slowly as I get to my feet. My eyes are locked on hers, the space between us shrinking with every step I take. The way she looks at me—like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me—makes my pulse quicken. By the time I reach her, my heart is pounding, every step pulling me further away from the edge of control I’m barely holding on to.
The music weaves around us, guiding her movements as she slowly undresses me, each touch a teasing, delicious torture. The anticipation builds as she reveals more skin, her grin widening at the effect she has on me.
Abruptly, the song playing comes to a halt and the next one begins. This time, it’s a slow, romantic tune. Bathed in the moon and starlight, we stand side by side, completely exposed. Our bodies sway in rhythm with the music, as we intimately explore each other’s bare skin through gentle kisses and caresses.
Our fingers dance over each other’s skin, tracing every contour and crevice. Each touch is a spark igniting between us, the heat from our bodies mingling in the cool night air. Her soft sighs fill the space around us, a symphony of pleasure as I gently caress her most sensitive areas. As my thumb glides over her hardened nipples, they respond eagerly to my touch, rising to meet me with a yearning desire.
I pull her to me, my hands exploring the curves of her bare back as we melt into each other’s embrace. Our lips meet in a searing kiss, tongues tangling and igniting a fire within us. She trails featherlight kisses down my neck, sending shivers down my spine. I bury my fingers in her soft hair, delighting in its silkiness.
We lower ourselves onto the sun pad, our bodies entwined in a perfect union. Every movement is met with a matching response, our connection never breaking. Skin meets skin as we sink into the plush surface, the cooling night air a delightful contrast to the burning desire between us. Her hands explore my body, sending shivers through me with her gentle touch. I caress her spine, savoring the delicate sound of her gasp when I reach the curve at the small of her back.
Our lips meet again in a passionate kiss, tongues exploring, tasting. I roll her beneath me, drinking in the sight of her in the moonlight––hair tousled, eyes dark with desire, chest heaving. She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me closer, the friction eliciting a groan from deep in my throat.
She presses her body against mine and gently moves in a sensual rhythm. Her breath tickles my ear as she murmurs, “Take your time tonight. Make love to me––slow and tender.”
“Happily.”
I lean in, my hand gently cradling her cheek as I tilt her head upward, lips meshing together in a soft and warm embrace. My tongue brushes against hers, and they intertwine in a slow and sensual dance. She tastes like white wine, and I can’t get enough of her.
Her fingers entwine in my hair, gently pulling me closer to her, and I explore every corner of her mouth until we’re both breathless. As our lips part, she tilts her head back, exposing the smooth curve of her neck, and I cover it with light kisses, cherishing the way she trembles under my touch.
She lies back, her legs spreading slightly to make room for me. My body presses against hers in a primal embrace. Our eyes meet and a silent understanding passes between us before I slowly enter her, savoring the warm tightness that surrounds me. As our bodies intertwine, we find a rhythm that feels natural. Every thrust is met with an equal force from her, our movements synchronized as if we’ve been dancing together for years. In this moment, nothing else exists but the two of us.
Our bodies move in perfect rhythm as we rock together. Our lovemaking is tender and adoring, worshipping every part of each other.
“JC.” She says her nickname for me like a prayer, her fingers tangling in my hair. This time it’s a pleasure building gradually––a slow burn––rather than a raging inferno.
I run my lips along the delicate curve of her collarbone, savoring the tangy salt on her warm skin. As I trace a pattern of kisses, she grips my shoulders, fingers digging into my flesh as I brush over a particularly sensitive spot. I return to that spot again and again, each time eliciting soft moans of pleasure from her lips. Her inner muscles contract around me, urging me.
With each gentle movement, our bodies mold together in a perfect rhythm. The outside world fades away as we focus solely on each other. The soft touch of skin against skin, the building heat between us, and the delicate sounds of our shared pleasure fill the air. Our breaths synchronize as time stands still in our intimate cocoon, and I gaze into her eyes, seeing my own passion and adoration reflected back at me. I cup her face in my hands, brushing my thumbs across her flushed cheeks before leaning in to place a loving kiss on her lips.
“I don’t understand how this can be so good, so different, with you.” I whisper against her ear.
“I don’t know either, but it is.”
The pressure builds slowly but steadily, like waves lapping at the shore. Her breathing quickens and her movements become more urgent. She trembles beneath me, on the precipice of ecstasy.
With a soft cry, she comes undone in my arms. The sight and feel of her release trigger my own, and we cling tightly to each other as waves of pleasure wash over us. Our bodies shudder in unison as we ride out the aftershocks together.
Gradually, our movements slow and then still. I remain inside her, unwilling to break our intimate connection just yet. We lie tangled together, our ragged breaths mingling as we come down from our shared high. I pepper her face with soft kisses––her forehead, her cheeks, and finally the tip of her nose. She sighs, a dreamy smile playing on her lips.
“That was––” she trails off, seemingly at a loss for words.
“The best,” I finish for her, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.
She nods, affirming our mutual understanding, and leans into my touch. We savor the warm feeling of contentment, exchanging soft kisses and tender touches. There’s no need to hurry; we have all the time in the world.
The peaceful night envelops us, the gentle movement of the yacht soothing us in rhythm with the waves. Her head is nestled on my chest, her skin still radiating warmth against mine under the tangled covers. We lay there in quiet bliss for some time, both lost for a while in the aftermath of our passion.
“No one’s ever made love to me before.” She pauses like she’s testing the words aloud for the first time. “It’s always been fucking and not even good fucking. To be honest, none of it has ever been good. Until you.”
Hearing that she enjoys sex with me makes me happy, but at the same time, it also stirs up some uncomfortable feelings. Obviously, I was aware that she’d been with other men before me. That’s not a surprise. What is a surprise is how that makes me feel.
I shift slightly, my hand brushing along her back. “I don’t like the thought of you being with other blokes.”
She laughs, light and teasing. “Are you jealous, JC?”
I am, but I don’t want her to know that. She might not find jealousy an attractive trait. “I’m not.”
“You sound a little jealous.” She props herself up on one elbow, her eyes studying my face.
I raise an eyebrow, smirking. “Do I?”
“Mm-hmm,” she murmurs, her grin widening.
She has me, but I’ll never admit to it.
I brush a hand through her hair, tucking it gently behind her ear. “Have you ever been in a serious relationship?”
“I’ve been in a few relationships, but they all fizzled after a few months.”
“So you’ve never been in love?”
“No. Not even close.”
A quiet sense of satisfaction settles in my chest. I don’t say it, but I like that she’s never loved anyone. Knowing her heart has never belonged to someone feels like there’s a part of her still untouched, waiting for the right man to claim it.
“What about you? Ever been in love?”
My fingers trail gently along her arm. “I’ve been in situations that felt close but no... not love.” I pause, letting my admission settle between us. “I want to be in love though.”
She hums softly as if turning my words over in her mind. Then she lifts her head, resting her chin lightly on my chest. “I hope you find the love of your life someday, JC. You deserve that.”
Her words carry a sincerity that stirs an unexpected ache deep inside me, leaving me momentarily unsure how to respond.
“You deserve the perfect wife, someone to be the perfect mother for all those beautiful little Samoan babies you’re going to have one day.”
The life she’s describing feels distant, like it belongs to a version of me I haven’t met yet. A version that hasn’t existed up till now.
It’s true—I want a wife and children someday. But right now, all I care about is what the next three months look like with her.
The thought of how quickly three months can slip away creeps in, tightening something deep in my chest. I shove my anxiety down before it can take hold of me.
Not now.
Not tonight.
She nestles against me, her warmth a quiet balm against the edges of my restless thoughts. For now, this moment with her is enough. I’ll let the future come when it’s ready.
I press a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the faint, familiar scent of her hair. With her curled against me, the stars stretching endlessly above, and the ocean rocking steadily beneath us, everything feels exactly as it should.
Even if it’s only temporary.
And for tonight, that’s enough.