Chapter Thirteen
Julián steers his fishing boat closer to where I’m standing on the deck and I look down and around, wishing I could just jump from this yacht and onto his, but it’s too high.
“You look bored out of your mind; I came to save you!” he yells.
Man, the confidence of this guy. He doesn’t give a shit if everyone is staring at him or what they might think of him for interrupting their peaceful, luxurious experience.
“I am bored to death!” I admit, calling down to him.
He waves his hand in the air, gesturing to me to come to him. It’s at least a twenty-foot drop, and not that I’m scared of heights, but what would happen if I just leaped off the boat? Will the staff call for help? Am I allowed to just leave? It’s a paid excursion and I’m an adult, so I guess so, but I find myself second-guessing the permission to do what I want.
“I’ll come to you and bring you to mine?” Julián’s voice travels easily to me.
He pulls his shirt over his head, tosses it behind him onto his boat, and dives into the water. My heart pounds. As I watch him swim toward the yacht, I follow him to where he’s headed, keeping my eyes on him and not the strangers staring at me. When I reach the front of the yacht, there’s a staircase, and Julián is speaking to one of the staff. I can tell by the friendly tone and smiles that they know each other. Julián waves for me to come into the water using the stairs. My bag is the only problem. My cell phone and most of the stuff in my bag can’t get wet. Including my brand-new copy of a Kennedy Ryan book I haven’t finished.
“My purse! I can’t swim with it. It can’t get wet!”
The scene plays out like we’re in a movie, a dramatic grand gesture during the third act of a Kate Hudson rom-com. He’s the lead, with wet, slicked-back hair, enough confidence to sink this massive yacht, enough charm to make us all blush and squirm in our seats. Julián reaches for the metal bar on the side of the stairs and pulls himself up. His muscular chest immediately draws my attention, and that of the women around us. I have the urge to cover their eyes.
“Hand it to me. I can hold it up until we get to my boat.” He is a fisherman after all, so I take my outfit off, leaving just my swimsuit on and hand my purse to him, trusting that.
“Ugh, how romantic,” I hear a woman’s voice comment behind me.
I straighten my spine. Yeah it is romantic and it’s for me , and I deserve this. Every woman deserves to have an over-the-top romantic gesture once in their life, and this is my one. So, hell or high water, I’m not going to let it pass me by. Without looking back, I step down the staircase and dive into the water to join him. The warmth of the water washes over me as I go under, my hair slicking back as I pop my head up. Julián wraps one hand around my waist, making me dizzy in the most blissful way. I can feel the slight current of his legs kicking under us.
“I can swim, you know,” I tell him, not able to keep the enormous grin off my face.
He pulls me closer to his bare chest. “Yeah, I know.”
As promised, not even a drop of water touches my bag as he gently places it inside the body of his boat. He climbs on first, using nothing except his body weight to lift himself. I look for stairs but don’t see any.
He notices my hesitation.
“This isn’t a yacht, carino.” His hand reaches for mine and he yanks me, fully lifting me into his arms and gently placing me onto my feet.
My god, he’s strong.
“How did you even find me?” I ask, wringing my soaked hair out over my shoulder into the water below.
“I have ways.” He tosses me a towel. “I know everyone. The island isn’t that big when you take out the temps.”
“Temps?”
“Temporary visitors. A nice way to say tourists.”
“Ah, so now you’re being nice to tourists?” I tease him.
“No. Just you.”
My stomach flips. The way he makes me feel is dangerous. Not for him, but for me. He seems to be so good at this. Way too good at this.
I look around his boat, to try and stop my heart from palpitating. The wooden deck shows its age in the cracks and warps; the blue seats and paint have been faded by the sun. It’s an older model; I don’t pretend to know the name or type, but it suits him perfectly. It’s cozy, feels sturdy. It’s much bigger now that I’m on it, nets and hooks and a sail, and a small staircase is in the center, leading to a door with a crooked sign hanging by a thin rope and one single nail. It reads GARCIA FAMILIA in messy handwriting. I wonder if it’s his. Just as I open my mouth to ask, he begins.
“It’s nothing fancy, but it was my dad’s when he was young, and I’ve tried to keep her together.” He looks around, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “For the most part.”
“What’s her name? I know people always name their boats, so what’s hers?” I ask, running my hand along the back of the seats closest to me.
“She doesn’t have one. It used to, but my pare changed it. Well, I guess erased it is more like it. So I never renamed her, and I like it that way.”
“Talk about commitment issues.” I look up at him. “Poor nameless boat.”
The sun is cast behind him, creating a glow of a shadow.
Though I’m teasing him, it makes me a bit sad that this beautiful, faithful, never-resting vessel doesn’t have a name. Like a lot of people, she works so hard but doesn’t have an identity. No one to call her name in the light of day or whisper it during the fall of night.
“She doesn’t mind,” he says with certainty. “She likes not being defined. Why confine her by a title that she didn’t choose?” He raises a brow, gently stroking the net hanging on a pillar near him.
“I guess you have a little bit of a point.” I nod in agreement. “Also, how many damn crosswords do you do? Because you have a better English vocabulary than me.”
“Tons. Vast, plentiful, enormous, astronomical amounts… colossal.” He grins, and droplets of water fall down his face.
“Okay, okay!” I get it. I gently push his chest. “You’re a genius. Don’t brag. It doesn’t suit you.” I put my hand over his mouth, and a gentle prick from his teeth pinches me, making me shriek in surprise.
“And what suits me, Oriah?”
Julián’s palm is splayed open cross my bare back, pressing just enough to pull me to him but still give me a choice to back away or not.
“Do you want to have some real fun now?” he asks in a low voice. In my head, he throws me over his shoulder and takes me to whatever is behind that door and has his way with me.
My imagination runs wild, and I hope he doesn’t hear my pulse pounding under my sun-kissed skin.
“Aren’t you hungry? You didn’t touch their fancy food.”
My cheeks are burning. “How long were you watching me?”
He shrugs his shoulders, smiling like he’s holding a secret. “Long enough.”
“I knew you were a stalker the night I met you.” I lift my chin so my eyes meet his.
“I wasn’t stalking you. Then. Now I have a reason to.” The wind and waves around us seem to slow from the tension between us. I can barely breathe.
“And what’s the reason now?” I move an inch closer; one tiny movement and our lips will touch.
Kiss me! I want to scream.
“Because—” His fingers reach up and tuck my wet hair behind my ear. His mouth moves to the shell of it to whisper, “I have yet to know how you taste.”
My knees nearly buckle under me, and he laughs lightly, clearly feeling my body react. This cat-and-mouse game is addicting as sin and frustrating as hell. Even the warmth of his breath against my ear makes me shiver despite the sun soaking into my skin.
“You’re driving me crazy,” I admit, my breath coming out in short pants.
The tip of his index finger touches my necklace, trailing down the rising and falling of my dripping chest, all the way down to my bare stomach, circling my belly button. I suck in a breath. The floor beneath me feels more than unstable as his fingertip brushes up against the seam of my bathing suit bottoms, going just a touch under them. My god.
“I know. And I quite enjoy it,” he finally replies, and I can barely remember what he’s replying to.
All I can see, hear, and feel is my body aching for him, the wetness and throbbing under my bottoms. He gently pulls away, kissing my cheek, and taps his finger on the tip of my nose. He anchors the boat and I look around. The sea is so vast, yet around us is nearly empty. A couple small boats freckled across the horizon, all different shapes and sizes, but not close enough to make out the people on them.
“Patience. It’s a virtue,” he tells me, his tongue sliding over his top lip as he steps back and tosses a net over the side of the boat. It disappears beneath the steady waves.
As my body and hormones cool down, Julián shows off his fishing abilities by catching, scaling, and deboning fish. I try not to be squeamish as he works. The muscles in his shoulders flex as he does his thing. I’m impressed and in awe of how natural he is and can tell this is totally his element. We talk about how he spent more time in a boat on the sea than on land as a child, teen, and now adult. He tells me how his grandfather started this family business and how many times they’ve struggled to evolve and keep up with the ever-changing modern world.
He sails us out to what he tells me is one of the few areas that haven’t been polluted beyond repair now because of all the resorts being built. On his phone, he shows me photos of before and after the tourists started flocking here in throngs and tells me how passionately he feels about keeping their ocean clean, their people employed. He asks me about my dancing, how I learned to move the way I did at the lounge. I tell him the fast version, the nondramatic, not lying to him, but choosing to avoid the end of the saga.
“There’s so much to know about you. I could talk to you for hours, days, months,” he says as he rinses his hands off over the side of the boat.
“Well, we only have one summer, so you’ll have to pack it all in,” I remind him, and myself, of our limited time together. I hate that I keep doing that, but it’s better for both of us to not get too caught up in this. As if it’s so simple. I mentally roll my eyes at myself for how annoying I can be.
“Don’t remind me,” he says, and begins to clean up.
He, of course, refuses to allow me to help, telling me to put more sunscreen on and giving me more water in the reusable cup. Despite his harsh persona, he’s someone who’s used to taking care of people and enjoys it; I can tell by his every move.
A honking noise startles me, and I look over, hoping to god it’s not my mom, but instead it’s a man on a small fishing boat, waving at us. His hair is shoulder-length and dark, his build is solid, and he’s… Julián’s dad. I can tell even from a distance.
“Pare!” He waves back with a smile.
Am I about to meet his father? Like this? Soaked and awkward… I run my fingers through my tangled hair, looking for clothes to put on over my bathing suit.
“Estic en una cita, vés a casa. O en qualsevol altre lloc, però vés!” he yells to his dad, and I keep awkwardly waving my hand and smiling, unsure what to do. A bellowing laugh reaches our boat from his, and he waves once more before turning his boat around and heading the opposite way.
“Was that your dad?”
“Yep. In the flesh.”
I widen my eyes. “Why did he leave? Should I have said hi?”
Julián laughs. “I told him to go away. He’s fine. You can meet him later. We’re on a date, remember?”
I look up at him with a teasing skepticism. “A date, are we? You practically kidnapped me and now you’ve sent the only other human in our vicinity away?”
He grins, his entire face full of a dazzling, otherworldly smile. “Exactly.”
“You’re crazy,” I tell him as we both settle back into our seats.
“Yeah, so I’ve been told,” he says, a little bit of sarcasm mixed with something else in his tone.
“I should have asked you before, but you eat seafood, right?” he asks a few moments later, his hands busy laying slices of fish onto a metal platter.
“I…” I sort of want to lie, but what’s the point? He’ll be able to tell the moment I pop it into my mouth.
“No, actually. But I want to try it. All of it.”
His sparkling eyes widen in surprise. “I thought all rich American girls loved sushi.”
I shake my head. “I thought sushi was the roll things? Either way, never had it.”
“Technically this is sashimi, but I’m just surprised you haven’t had it. I heard in the States they charge tons of money for this.” He waves at the growing platter.
He slices a lime and squeezes the juice over some of the fish.
“I think it has to do with my mom’s obsession with erasing her past. Even though she’s from here, she never really had me try any food from Spain, or seafood in general. I don’t know why… but she always has. Rich or not, she steers clear from anything that reminds her of this place.”
Julián’s face is full of confusion. “Your mom’s from here? The island or from Spain, or Europe?”
“Here on the island. I know it sounds na?ve and clueless of me, but she’s so secretive about her past before she became my mom, and we aren’t that close. I don’t know where on the island, but I’m trying to find out. I would be bragging from the rooftops and visiting monthly if I was from somewhere like this.” I wave my hand toward the coastline.
“And you don’t speak any Spanish?” he wonders, confused.
Shaking my head, I try to give him the fast version. “No. I mean, I picked up some from my nanny, but my mom never, ever uses her mother tongue, and the only time she encouraged me to learn so much as a few words was right before we came here. Something must have happened here that made her turn her back on where she’s from, and I thought I could find out what it was this summer. It’s a long, complicated saga, but she barely speaks about her life here.”
He studies me and I can almost feel him debating whether to ask me more, but I’m sure he can tell by my tone and the time we’ve spent together so far that my mom is a sore subject, to say the least.
“Hmph. Your dad is white?” he bluntly wonders, moving on from the subject of my mom.
I’m so curious if he maybe knows someone who knew her or knew my abuelita, or anyone in my bloodline, but I’m not ready to ask him, not yet. Plus, the chances are very slim anyway, so I plan on doing my own detective work to at least find her old home, or a friend she had, something or someone to give me a link to who she was and where she came from. But I won’t ask Julián, not today.
I nod. “Yeah, but I look more like my mom. If you saw her, you would immediately recognize this nose and face.” I smile, pointing at my distinctive nose.
“Please tell me you’re not insecure about your face. You’re magnificent.”
I cough, surprised by his directness. “I am not insecure. I like my face, I was just saying I have her features, and in my town they aren’t very common.”
“Well, Ry, you’re not very common and shouldn’t want to be. Look at you.” His eyes rake over me, and I feel like I’m completely undressed before him.
“Is that your tagline? You say that to all your girls?”
“Is that your way of deflecting a compliment? Bringing up other women?”
I shake my head, denying the truth he called out. “No, that’s my way of finding out how many women you’re involved with. I’m not the jealous type, so don’t get defensive. I’m just curious.” My focus shifts to my hands, picking at my cuticles.
“Truthfully, your question bothers me, but for your sake and mine, I’ll answer it. But if you don’t believe me, it’s your issue and I’m not going to try to prove otherwise. You can either trust and believe me or not.” He shrugs, tossing the dry lime into a small, opened garbage bag a few feet away.
“Continue,” I urge, my nerves growing.
He’s unpredictable, giving me no hints of what will come out of his mouth. I both enjoy and despise his brashness.
“I’m not seeing, dating, or hooking up with anyone. The last woman I was with was a one-night stand from northern France. I didn’t ghost her, by the way, and I don’t just ghost women. I hate that term. Sometimes it’s okay to cut off contact with people without explaining, especially when they’re strangers. It doesn’t always mean someone’s an asshole.” He rolls his eyes and continues. “I make it clear that I’m not looking to date or get married, and no tourist Amara gossiped to you about has had that expectation.” He pauses, looking toward the clear sky.
“None?” I ask.
“One.” He nods. “But I quickly realized she was a little off and she stalked my friends, ran through the streets screaming my name, showed up at my work, until her trip was up and she left the country.” His voice is full of relief.
Not knowing her or the full story, but if he swooned her the way he is me, I can’t really blame her for her obsession. It’s been a few days and I’m nearly there.
“What about you? You came here to live your best life, right? So how many boats have you been on so far? And are you sure you don’t have some American football player fiancé waiting for you to have his baby and name it some name with a random Y in the middle?”
I laugh at that, thinking of all the Facebook and Instagram posts from people my age who are way further along in their future than I am… or will likely ever be.
“No. Sadly, I don’t have a fiancé and never have. If I did, I’d like to think he’d be here with me, enjoying the summer together.” I sigh, lost in a hopeless daydream.
“Too bad it’s just me here. But I can feed you and I’m good with my hands.”
“Stop trying to seduce me,” I tease, reaching for a bottled water near his leg.
He reaches for my hand and pulls it to him, gently moving me to fall onto his lap.
“I haven’t begun yet,” he warns seductively, moving my hair to the opposite side of my neck to expose the skin there.
The breezy ocean air tickles my skin just as his lips press against me. My shoulder hikes up as he teases the sensitive nerve bundle at the base of my neck.
I turn my body to straddle his waist. I’ve had enough waiting. I can’t stand it anymore, and if this is his idea of not even starting to entice me, I will combust.
Pushing my fingers through his now-dry hair, I softly tug at the wavy strands, lifting his face to mine.
“I don’t believe in virtues, and I don’t have any more patience.” I move my hips, grinding against him.
His cheeks flush and a low groan falls from his lips. I don’t care to look around us to see how near the closest boat is. Julián’s face is unreadable. I can feel him hard beneath me, so I know he physically wants me, what the hell is stopping him? He seems to decide to go further, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms tight around my waist. The thin fabric of our swimwear isn’t thick enough to hide both of our arousal. I’ve never been this forward with a guy, but no man has ever, ever, ever made me feel like this. Mentally stimulated and physically… electric. Impossible to control myself.
I lean in to kiss him, but he’s faster, closing the space between us with a relieved moan. His mouth tastes exactly like I expected. Like the sunlight against my shoulders in the beginning of June, like wet skin against warm pool tile, like the first sip of ice water in the height of summer. His lips soft and pillowy, wet and skillful. His tongue slides into my mouth and I rock against him, soaking through my bikini bottoms. He kisses me like the water washes over your skin, slowly and powerfully, coming in intense waves and tiding back out.
Salty, strong, and warm. He stands up, carrying me with ease, never breaking his mouth from mine. I can’t see where we’re going, nor do I care, as we move across the boat. A door creaks open and within seconds, we’re horizontal, a soft mattress under my back as he lays me down. The smell of paper and wood envelops my senses before Julián pulls me right back into his orbit. His warm mouth trails down my neck again, focusing again on the spot that makes me squirm. He’s a fast learner. I dig my fingers into his soft hair, tugging to pull his mouth back to mine. I feel explosive, impatient. I’ve never wanted or needed something so badly. No doubt, no second-guessing. I need Julián. Now.
“I can’t wait any longer. I really, really can’t,” I shamelessly admit, breathless.
He cocks his head to the side and gives me a long look. “As you wish.”
At the exact moment he finishes speaking, his fingers slide beneath my bathing suit and inside me. I groan, the relief washing over me like a thousand seas. Julián’s tongue dips down to my top as his skillful fingers pump slowly, his thumb pressing against my clit, making me press my lips together, trying not to scream with pleasure. He uses his teeth to move the fabric of my top out of the way, revealing my breasts, goose bumps covering them, my nipples hard as his mouth touches one of them. I arch my back, and he uses his hips to pin me down.
His tongue swirls at the same pace as his thumb, fingers still moving in and out… in and out… slowly, delightfully, building a forgotten pressure low in my belly. I bite down on his shoulder as I come, my entire body tensing and pulsing, the black behind my eyelids filling with exploding light as I stay in the high longer than I ever have. As I come down, my body melts into the mattress, my chest rising and falling at a rapid speed. I can barely see straight as he brings his lips to my ear, gently kissing the center.
“I must taste you. I’ve craved you since the moment I saw you,” he calmly whispers as if he didn’t just give me the most intense orgasm of my entire life.
I want more. I need more. I need more than more.
He crawls down my body, the freckles on his broad shoulders like a starry night, the messy waves in his hair. God, he’s perfect. I lift my hips so he can take my bottoms off, and I nearly come again at the look in his eyes as his gaze rakes over my naked body. His eyes shine as his tongue glides over his lips, and I’ve never felt so sexy, so desired. The rush is nearly too intense to stay still. He licks my stomach, the skin on the sides of my hips, circling around, teasing me. I whine his name, trying to pull him by the hair to where I need him. He gently bites the inside of my thigh in return. The stinging, delightful surprise makes my hips rise again; my feet dig into the mattress as his tongue swipes across my still-throbbing clit. He uses his tongue to write poetry, words I’ll never forget. My hand flies to my mouth, clamping down as he wraps his thick, toned arms around my thighs, pulling them wide open as he devours me. The first lick of his tongue sets me ablaze.
Flashes of skin, freckles, stars, sunsets, waves, water, the smell of sugar consume me as I climax again.
As I slowly come back to reality, he asks, “Are you exhausted yet?”
There’s a playful gleam in his eyes while I catch my breath.
“Absolutely not,” I reply quickly, reaching for his shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the side.
His body covers mine and suddenly everything feels easy, feels light and free, and I instinctively know my life will never be the same again.
“We should eat now while it’s fresh. In this weather, it will go bad fast, and I’d rather not give you food poisoning,” he tells me, his breath much slower than before, but still a little ragged.
He’s lying beside me as I count the splinters in the ceiling of this room, feeling my calm heartbeat in my chest. A massive, unerasable grin spreads across my face.
“How long did I doze off?” I ask him, still in disbelief that I was relaxed enough to sleep in a strange place, with a man I barely know, in the middle of the ocean.
“Only about ten minutes. You were awake one minute, then bam, lights out the next.
“Hungry?” he asks.
Sitting up, I clap my hands together, stomach growling like I haven’t eaten in a week. I reach over and grab his shirt that I threw, and which is now dangling from an oyster shell–shaped lamp, the light bulb meaning to be the pearl.
“Quirky. I like it.” I point to the lamp, and he grins.
“I made it. I used to make all kinds of silly things out of dry clay.” He rubs the back of his neck, squeezing a little.
There’s a flush in the apple of his cheeks, and I can’t tell if it’s from what we just did or if he’s embarrassed.
“It’s not silly. I would buy this on Etsy.” I lean up, my body still naked, and run my finger along the cool shell. It’s glossy, pearlized white with a tinge of green where the light touches it.
“What’s an Etsy?” he wonders, pulling his shorts up to his waist and yanking on the strings.
I laugh a little. “It’s a website, well, an app that you can buy handmade stuff on. Something like this would probably sell for at least a hundred bucks, likely more.”
His eyes widen. “I’m in the wrong business, then.” He smirks, handing me my bathing suit bottoms, standing to adjust my top. There’s a darkness in his gaze as he says, “I don’t want anyone to see your beautiful, exposed body. Only me.”
I swallow, liking the surprisingly territorial way he’s claiming me more than I will ever admit. “Hmph, so no nude beaches for me?” I quirk up a defiant brow.
“Nope. You should have taken that first opportunity you had.”
“And you—” I glare at him, feigning seriousness. “No nude beaches for you either, then. Fair is fair.”
“As you wish, my lady.” He kisses me, tosses me over his shoulder like a sack of air, and carries me back to the deck of the boat.