12. Michael
Michael
She left me wanting more of that sassy mouth. Her mind was quickly becoming as much of a turn on as her body. I wanted to pursue her but my guests required constant attention.
I was almost happy when my phone buzzes with a quiet alert from security.
Your woman. Foredeck.
Restricted access. No guests beyond the ropes. But Kate? She’s not just any guest.
I hand off my drink to one of my guys, ignoring Romanov’s smirk as I step away from the cluster of power suits and whispered deals. Let them talk. Let them wonder.
She’s more important.
I find her where the deck curves like the bow of a ship in a dream — moonlight reflecting off water, the soft sway of the ocean kissing the hull. She’s out of bounds, standing barefoot now in her heels, her back to the world, fingers curled lightly over the railing.
Her hair’s loose, wind-tossed, gold and wild like the girl herself.
She doesn’t know I’m behind her yet. Or maybe she does—and that’s exactly why she came here.
She’s swaying to the music spilling out into the night from the lower deck.
Hips moving in a slow rhythm one that I had just danced with her a few nights ago.
And then it happens.
A boom, and the night explodes in color.
Fireworks burst over the ocean in gold and silver and deep red—my signal to the clients that the private tables are open.
Kate gasps. Just once. Soft and breathy.
I step in behind her, close enough to feel body heat.
My palms settle against the rail on either side of hers, locking her in.
She doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. But her chest is rising now, higher, faster.
“We never watched them together.” She murmurs, last July on the fourth.
I lean in, my mouth brushing her neck as another crack of color breaks the sky. Her perfume is gone now, replaced by wind and salt and me still on her skin. “Because we were too busy making out.”
She turns slowly.
And then melts into me.
The kiss is instant. Fire. Tongue and teeth and want. Her hands are in my hair, pulling, her body pressed against mine like it belongs there—because it fucking does.
My fingers slide into the curve of her waist, pulling her tight as her lips part for mine. It’s not a kiss anymore.
It’s a damn promise.
One I intend to make her keep.
The fireworks light her face in flickers of red and gold.
Kate’s lips are parted, eyes wide, chest rising with shallow breaths as she turns to face me. She’s radiant. Wind-tossed. Wanting.
Mine.
“I knew you’d find me,” she says, voice low. Daring.
“I always find what’s mine.”
I move in slowly, letting her feel it before I even touch her— the energy, the restraint it takes not to take her right here against the glass and make the entire yacht hear who she belongs to.
My hands slide around her waist. She gasps as I cage her against the rail, her body pressed to mine, the distance gone.
She leans in. “You missed the show.”
I drag my mouth along her jaw, breathing her in.
“What show?” I whisper into her skin. “It’s right here.”
Her fingers fist into my jacket. My lips graze hers—once. Twice. Then I kiss her deep and slow, like a man who’s been starving and just got handed the whole feast. She tastes like champagne and danger and that fierce, stubborn mouth I crave more than my next breath.
She whimpers.
I smile against her.
“You feel that?” I press closer, letting her feel exactly how hard she’s got me. “That’s what happens when you run, Kate.”
Her breath hitches.
“You always chase?” she taunts, breathless.
“No,” I rasp, lips brushing hers again. “Only you.”
My hand curves possessively over her hip as I lean into her ear.
“When I take you tonight,” I promise, “you’ll forget anyone else ever touched you. You’ll forget your name. You’ll scream mine.”
She sways, head falling back slightly, lips parted.
And I swear I’m about to lose it.
But not here. Not like this.
I step back slowly, letting the air stretch between us until she gasps for it.
“Back inside, baby.” My voice is hoarse, rough with everything I’m holding back. “Before I make this deck your altar.”
She shivers, cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide as I take her by the hand and walk back to the party.
“Nothing about you is normal.”
“I don’t think ‘normal’ does it for you, Kate.” I rasp against her ear, nipping it quickly.
“Okay, but there’s normal, not normal and… this….” she stops and just spins around. “This is pure insanity.”
“I’ve never felt more alive.” I confess.
“I guess, I do too.”