Chapter 46 Book
Isabella’s POV
The yacht had been quiet all day. Just the two of us, the endless ocean around us, and a crew that somehow managed to disappear whenever we stepped onto the deck.
He had told me casually, like it was no big deal.
“We’re staying out here for a few days.”
“A few days?” I had repeated.
“Yes.”
“You didn’t mention that before.”
“I didn’t think you’d come if I had.”
I had glared at him.
He had smirked.
A few days.
On a yacht.
Alone.
With him.
By the time the sun started dropping toward the horizon, turning the ocean gold and orange, I had spent the entire day avoiding Alexander.
Not in a loud way.
Not in a dramatic way.
Just… slowly.
Which now was becoming increasingly difficult considering we were trapped together on a massive luxury yacht in the middle of the ocean.
And that had pretty much set the tone for the entire day.
Because the attraction between us hadn’t gone away.
If anything, it had gotten worse.
Every time he walked near me, my body reacted before my brain could stop it. My heart sped up. My skin warmed. My mind started going places it absolutely should not go.
Which meant I had spent the entire day doing everything possible to keep distance between us.
Swimming in the small pool on the deck.
Reading a book I had turned the same page of for forty minutes.
Lying in the sun pretending to tan while my brain screamed at me to stop looking at him.
Because Alexander Kingsley had decided that shirts were optional today.
And unfortunately for my sanity—
The man looked unfairly good without one.
Bare chest.
Perfect shoulders.
Muscles moving under tan skin every time he reached for something or leaned against the rail.
It should have been illegal.
And the worst part?
He knew exactly what he was doing.
Every time he walked past me.
Every time he stretched his arms over his head.
Every time he leaned close enough that I could smell his cologne mixed with salt air.
It was torture.
And he was enjoying it.
I had managed to dodge him all day.
Any time he tried to start an actual conversation—
“Oh I need sunscreen.”
“I forgot my book.”
“I think I left my sunglasses inside.”
“I’m hungry.”
“I need water.”
At one point I had literally run across the deck saying I needed to check something in my room.
There had been absolutely nothing in my room.
I had just needed to escape the way he was looking at me.
And the worst part?
I was embarrassing myself.
Because the more I avoided him, the more obvious it became.
By late afternoon, he had stopped pretending not to notice.
And now he was watching me.
Carefully.
Like a predator waiting for the right moment.
Which was how I ended up in the pool.
Floating on my back, staring up at the sky, pretending this was a normal day.
Pretending my entire body wasn’t aware of where he was standing on the deck.
I heard his footsteps before I saw him.
Slow.
Unhurried.
My eyes opened just in time to see him standing at the edge of the pool.
Still shirtless.
Water reflecting across his chest.
I immediately turned away.
“Nice day,” I said quickly.
Silence.
Then—
A splash.
Cold water rippled around me.
I spun around.
Alexander was in the pool.
Standing in the water.
Very close.
Too close.
I pushed backward immediately.
“Oh— I was just about to get out actually—”
“No you weren’t.”
My mouth opened.
Closed.
He moved closer.
The water shifted around him as he stepped forward, his eyes fixed on me in that calm, deliberate way that made my heart start beating faster.
“I think,” he said slowly, “you’ve been running away from me all day.”
“I have not.”
“You have.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Doing what?”
“Swimming.”
“You swam for five minutes.”
“Reading.”
“You held the same page for forty minutes.”
I froze.
“You noticed that?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I notice everything you do.”
That did not help my heartbeat.
“I wasn’t avoiding you.”
“You ran across the deck earlier.”
“I forgot something.”
“What?”
I opened my mouth.
Then stopped.
Because I had no idea what excuse I had used earlier.
Alexander’s mouth twitched slightly.
“Exactly.”
I crossed my arms in the water.
“I’m not avoiding you.”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re terrified you’re going to kiss me.”
My eyes widened.
“I am not!”
“You are.”
“I’m not terrified of anything.”
“Sure.”
He moved another step closer.
The water brushed against my shoulders as the space between us shrank.
My brain screamed at me to swim away.
But somehow my body stayed exactly where it was.
“Alexander,” I said warningly.
“Yes?”
“You’re too close.”
He tilted his head slightly.
“And yet you haven’t moved.”
“I could.”
“But you’re not.”
My heart was pounding now.
The sunlight caught the water droplets on his shoulders.
His hair was slightly damp from earlier swimming.
He looked—
Ridiculous.
Like some dangerous, unfairly attractive problem.
“I’m serious,” I said.
“So am I.”
His voice dropped slightly.
“Why are you avoiding me?”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I just wanted space.”
“You’ve had space.”
He studied my face carefully.
Then his eyes narrowed slightly.
“You’re trying very hard not to look at me.”
“I am looking at you.”
“No you’re not.”
“Yes I am.”
“You’re looking at my shoulder.”
Heat rushed to my face.
“That still counts.”
He laughed.
Soft.
Low.
And stepped even closer.
Now the water moved between us.
Now he was right in front of me.
“You’ve been nervous all day,” he said quietly.
“I have not.”
“You stuttered earlier.”
“I did not stutter.”
“You ran away.”
“I walked quickly.”
“You almost tripped over a chair.”
“That chair attacked me.”
That made him laugh again.
Then he leaned closer slightly.
Close enough that I could feel the heat of his skin despite the water between us.
“You’re trying very hard not to want me,” he said quietly.
My stomach flipped.
“I’m trying to be responsible.”
“Responsible is boring.”
“Responsible keeps me from making bad decisions.”
His eyes dropped briefly to my lips.
Then back to my eyes.
“And kissing me would be a bad decision?”
“Yes.”
“Very bad?”
“Extremely bad.”
“And yet,” he murmured, stepping even closer, “you haven’t moved away.”
Because I couldn’t.
My brain knew exactly what was happening.
He leaned closer.
Close enough that the water moved softly against both of us.
Close enough that the air felt warmer between us.
“There’s nothing you can do to stop what I’m about to do,” he said quietly.
My throat tightened slightly.
“What are you talking about?”
His gaze dropped briefly to my lips.
Then back to my eyes.
“What do you think I’m talking about?”
“Alexander—”
“What?”
“What are you doing?”
The corner of his mouth curved.
“I’m going to kiss you.”
My heart skipped.
“We said we were behaving.”
“I tried.”
“And now?”
His voice lowered.
“Now I’m done pretending.”
Before I could come up with another ridiculous excuse, he stepped forward.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Giving me every chance to move away.
Every chance to stop him.
But I stayed exactly where I was.
His hand lifted, brushing lightly against my arm under the water.
Then he leaned in.
His lips touched mine softly at first.
Warm.
Careful.
Like he was testing whether I would push him away.
I didn’t.
And the moment he realized that, the kiss deepened.
Still slow.
Still controlled.
But the restraint between us had finally cracked.
My hand moved to his shoulder without thinking.
Pulling him closer.
His other hand slid gently to the side of my face, steady and warm as the kiss grew more intense.
The ocean rocked the yacht gently around us.
Water rippled against our shoulders.
And suddenly the entire day of pretending we weren’t drawn to each other collapsed in a single moment.
Because the truth was—
Neither of us had been trying very hard to stop this.
And when I kissed him back, I knew exactly what kind of trouble I had just walked into.
The kiss turned molten in an instant.
His mouth claimed mine with sudden, unapologetic hunger—teeth grazing my lower lip, tongue sliding deep, tasting salt and heat and the last frayed thread of restraint we both still possessed.
A low sound rumbled from his throat, vibrating against my lips, and my fingers dug into the hard muscle of his shoulders as if I could anchor myself against the way the world tilted.
Water sluiced between us, warm now from our bodies, but it did nothing to cool the fire racing under my skin.
His hands found my waist beneath the surface, thumbs pressing into the dip above my hips, pulling me flush against him until I felt every rigid inch of him pressed to my stomach.
I gasped into his mouth and he swallowed the sound, kissing me harder, deeper, like he was trying to crawl inside me through that single point of contact.
My legs wrapped around his waist on instinct.
The movement dragged my core along the thick length straining against his swim trunks and we both groaned—low, broken, desperate.
His grip tightened, one hand sliding down to cup my ass, fingers splaying wide, kneading the flesh as he rocked me against him in a slow, deliberate grind that made sparks explode behind my closed eyelids.
“Fuck, Isabella,” he breathed against my mouth, voice wrecked. “You feel—”
He didn’t finish. Instead he kissed me again—fiercer this time—while his free hand traveled up my spine, fingers threading into wet hair at my nape, tilting my head so he could devour me at a better angle. My nails scored down his back; I felt the shudder that rolled through him.
Without warning he lifted me higher, water cascading off our bodies in sheets.
My thighs clamped tighter around his hips as he carried me up the three shallow steps out of the pool, never once breaking the kiss.
Cool evening air hit my soaked skin and I shivered—then moaned when his mouth left mine only to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along my jaw, down the column of my throat.
He sucked hard at the pulse point there until I arched, head falling back, offering more.