Chapter 19
DAKOTA
We stand at the boat’s railing, the engine humming behind us as we skip across the water. With the sun setting and bouncing over the waves, and Jack’s warm arms wrapped around me, his body pressing against my back, I should be ecstatic.
But here I am, thirty years old, over a decade removed from any of Dad’s controlling ways.
And it still hits me sometimes. Mom’s married to a great guy now, the best stepdad I could ask for.
But before that, there was my birth dad, Mr. Do What You’re Told.
He’d bark orders at me and Mom as if he were a military commander.
And then, if he went too far, there was always a grand gesture.
I am not my mother.
But I can’t shake the feeling. I don’t want to ruin this with my baggage. Noah frowns at me from my mind. A queen doesn’t bow to peasants, silly.
My mind is a jumbled mess. Everything is more complicated because, in terms of sheer physical need, there’s no complication at all. Every second, my body burns hotter and hotter for him. My core tingles as if begging for a touch.
My heart pounds, but my head is telling me to just enjoy this, relax, let whatever’s going to happen, happen.
“Any ideas?” he says, sounding boyish and excited. He kisses the nape of my neck.
I turn my head, giving him more access. He groans and presses his mouth firmly against me, biting a little. I move away before he can leave a mark I’ll have to cover up on stream.
“Not a clue,” I admit.
“Really?” he murmurs.
“Jack, I don’t…”
Then I see it. Glistening on the shoreline.
Hints of green glisten on a rock formation in the distance.
We’ve done a loop around the city, and now we’re at the edges of a stretch of wide-open land…
which we can access via a cove. A cove with emerald-green rocks, with what looks like a table and chair in the middle, a metal bucket, and the neck of a champagne bottle sticking out.
My first instinct is to smile as happy tears fill my eyes. I stare in wonder at what he’s done. For us. For me. It makes me feel so special. I wish I could simply exist in this moment.
Instead, a bitter instinct grips me. I see my mother, a desperate smile on her face, flashing a silver bracelet at me as if that makes up for everything father did.
“He’s not all bad, is he?” And it’s not the same, right?
Jack hasn’t tried to control me, to hurt me, anything like that.
Hiding on the floor isn’t the same as what Dad did to Mom.
But I can see what happens next so clearly. We’ll land on the shore. The champagne will flow with the jokes, the chemistry, and the closeness that feels so easy. He might even have a clamshell bed set up in a nearby cave, just like in the game.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, wiping the tears from my face. I think there are some sad ones mixed in with the happy ones.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“We have to go back.
“Dakota…”
I spin to face him. “I’m telling you to take me back right now.”
For a terrifying moment, I think he’s going to argue. He tilts his head at me. Hurt and confused. I know how a so-called nice guy would react now. The resentment would burst out. The accusations. I arranged all this, and now you’re acting like a stupid spoiled brat.
“We’re leaving right this second,” he says instead, touching my hand. “I’ll tell the captain.” He climbs up the nearby ladder. I hear a murmured conversation. Then he begins to climb down.
I stand at the edge, watching as the magical cove grows smaller and smaller.
“It was too much,” he says huskily, hugging me from behind again. He brushes his lips along my neck.
“It was thoughtful,” I say honestly. “And beautiful. It’s just… I don’t know, Jack.”
Minutes pass in a somehow comfortable silence.
I don’t sense him seething, resenting, hating like my father would.
Leave her alone! Noah yelled once, “You’re being cruel, and I see through your smile,” a fourteen-year-old kid standing up to a fully grown man.
Sometimes he could be so perceptive. He saw more than all of us.
“This is too big, too fast, isn’t it?” he says finally, kissing me on the cheek.
“Most women would love it,” I reply. “They’d cry, hug you, and they wouldn’t overthink.”
“Overthinking is a blessing and a curse,” he says quietly. “Trust me, I know the feeling.”
“Your… mom?” I ask, turning in his embrace.
He nods shortly, his jaw clenched. “Of course, it’s natural to think that I should’ve done more, should’ve noticed something was wrong.
When something like that happens, it makes questioning everything else easier.
A mind that won’t stop spinning. If I’m right, Dakota, and you’ve got something like that going on now, you don’t need to say anything. I get it.”
“I thought big, macho billionaires were supposed to get pissed if their women didn’t do what they wanted.”
“Their women,” he repeats, shaking his head. “I’ve never cared about being macho. Or a billionaire. I care about the game—and now you. It’s simple.”
“Sorry to break it to you, but you are big and macho.”
He chuckles, tenderly rubbing his hand across my cheek. “I love seeing you smile.”
I reach up, touch his hand, let my smile grow wider even with the tension gripping my chest tightly. “Sometimes, I don’t know if I’m making a mountain out of a molehill, or if I’ve just gotten used to carrying a mountain everywhere I go.”
His eyes glisten. Wonder. Pride, even.
“What?” I murmur.
“Just you,” he says, kissing me on the forehead.
“Was there a bed back there?” I ask because I want to know how far he went, how much effort he put in. Even if I ruined it all.
“There was,” he replies.
A tingle runs up my spine. The physical attraction doesn’t wane, even for a moment, even with my heart and soul in open rebellion.
“What if I said no?” I ask.
“I don’t understand the question.”
“If we had the champagne, and we had a great date, then you showed me the bed, and I said no, I don’t want to have sex.”
“What sort of fucking question is that?” he says, taking a small step back.
I fold my arms. Am I trying to start a fight? “One that requires an answer.”
“Then we’d stop. Obviously.” He looks at me in disgust. “Who do you think I am?”
“I guess that’s the billion-dollar question. Are you a guy who’s genuinely interested in me, or just another rich guy who wants a sentient fuck doll?”
“Christ.” He walks to the opposite railing, grips it hard, his shoulders rising and falling as he heaves massive breaths.
“Since Pete and I dropped out of college and started our company, my life has been curated. Early success meant there wasn’t much time to stop, breathe, just…
exist. I even hid my mother, paid off the right people to have her tragedy scrubbed so some vulture journalist wouldn’t spread her all over the news.
” His back is still to me, but I can hear the ragged pain in his voice and see it in his posture.
“Now, we’ve got something real. Something beyond the stock price. And you think I’m one of them?”
He turns, hurt in his eyes.
I try to stay strong. To stare him down. This is exactly the sort of thing my dad used to say to make my mother comfort him, but he’s not my father and I’m not my mother.
I rush to him and throw my arms around him. “I’m sorry,” I murmur.
“A woman has every right to ask a question like that.” He slowly runs his hand through my hair. “You’re on a boat with a stranger.”
“You’re not a stranger, Jack.”
“Baby, you know how to keep me on my toes. I’ll give you that.”
“Am I being a head fuck?” I ask, looking up at him.
His lip twitches. He shakes his head. “No.”
“A little bit?”
“Okay, a little bit.” He kisses me again. “There’s something going on in that busy head of yours. I can tell. And I can also tell you don’t want to talk about it, which is fine too.”
“You’re right about all of that,” I admit quietly.
“Then let’s just enjoy the ocean. We can try this another time.”
We’re silent again for a few minutes. I close my eyes and rest my cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, as he cuddles me close to him.
For a man I’ve only met in person twice, this feels stunningly natural.
I’m not a soul-mate kind of gal, and definitely not a head-over-heels girlie, either.
But I can’t deny this connection. Like something in me is trying to fuse with him if I’d only let it.