Chapter 28 #2
A woman appears from inside the house with a bottle of champagne and fills our glasses. It’s cold and dry, and the bubbles tickle my nose.
“I can’t believe any of this,” I say when we’re alone.
“I wanted the last two days of our agreement to be memorable.” He takes a sip.
In forty-eight hours, Dyson’s reservation will end. We haven’t discussed the future since promising we’d give each other our answers on the third.
The water beneath us turns from turquoise to amber as the sun drops. A sea turtle surfaces ten feet from the pier, takes a breath, and dives back under. Ripples spread across the glassy water until they disappear.
Chef Armand moves toward us, carrying two plates. “The amuse-bouche is a single seared scallop on top of mango puree with a drizzle of raspberry. Enjoy.”
He places it in front of us and returns to his area.
I take a bite, and flavors explode in my mouth. I close my eyes and moan.
“Keep it up, and I’m having you for dinner,” Dyson whispers.
“No way I’m missing the main course. Save room for dessert.” I wink.
The string lights glow above us, and the candles flicker in the light breeze.
Our plates are cleared, and the champagne is refilled.
We’re brought another plate, and this time, it’s grilled lobster tail with a coconut lime butter.
Every plate is a work of art, a culinary masterpiece.
The main course is blackened mahi over a bed of roasted plantains and pickled red onion.
My mouth waters as I look at it, and I enjoy every damn bite.
“What did you want to be when you grew up?” I ask, taking a sip of white wine that was served with dinner.
He grins. “I don’t think anyone has ever asked me that.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. But my path was pretty much chosen for me as a kid. I never wanted to be CEO. My brother Asher was prepped to take it over, but things changed once my sister passed away.” He smiles. “I wanted to be a doctor.”
I study him. “Really? What kind?”
“Emergency room. I thrive in chaos. And I wanted to save lives and make a difference in the world.”
I tilt my head, watching him in this light. “You do make a difference in the world.”
“In a way. Not as hands-on as I wish, but I do care about people and humanity. That’s why I use my money for good. Most of the opinions you have about billionaires are warranted.”
“I was wrong about you though.”
I reach across the table for his hand. His thumb brushes the tops of my fingers. It’s his little way of saying that he’s here with me at this moment. The touch is so small that it shouldn’t matter, but it does.
“I hope you saved room,” Chef Armand says when we’re finished eating.
Our plates are cleared again, and he happily delivers slices of strawberry cake with fresh slivers arranged on top.
There’s a drizzle of sauce that looks like someone painted it onto the plate.
I take a bite and close my eyes again because this man found a chef who makes the best strawberry cake I have ever eaten.
“I’m speechless,” I say. “This is, by far … just wow. I’m a cake snob. You did wonderfully.”
He bows his head.
“Thank you, Chef,” Dyson says.
“My pleasure, Mr. Banks.” He looks at me. “Ms. Winslow, it was an honor.”
“The honor was mine. And my belly’s,” I say with a laugh.
He smiles as workers pack his station. Moments later, he disappears down the pier with his team. And then it’s just us.
A chill rushes over me, and I shiver.
Dyson stands and extends his hand. “Let’s go inside.”
The glass door slides open, and the house is a dream.
The main floor is open-concept with polished floors that reflect the candlelight.
Every surface has candles, dozens of them, already lit by someone on the staff while we were eating.
The kitchen is sleek and minimal, with marble counters and copper fixtures.
A staircase, made of floating wood planks, leads to the second floor.
“What’s up there?” I ask.
“Rooftop terrace. Hot tub. The bedroom. Panoramic view of the ocean.”
“Show me,” I say.
He leads me up the stairs. The primary bedroom takes up the entire second floor with an enormous bed that’s draped in gray linen.
It’s positioned in front of a glass wall that faces endless ocean.
Dyson presses a button, and the wall disappears, and the steady wind rushes in.
The water stretches in every direction with nothing between us and the horizon.
My favorite flowers sit in a vase on the nightstand.
“It’s the small gestures I appreciate the most,” I say, bending over to smell them. “The little things you do because you listened to what I said. I’ve never met anyone like you.”
“I could say the same.”
He’s standing by the bed with his hands in his pockets. The candlelight catches the stubble on his face. The linen shirt is unbuttoned at the collar, and I can see his tan line from weeks of living in Coconut Beach.
He’s no longer the man who checked in with an attitude and an expensive watch. He’s not the trust-fund billionaire and CEO the internet writes about. He’s just Dyson. The man who played poker with seashells and fell in love with me on an island when he wasn’t supposed to.
I move closer to him, not wanting there to be any space between us.
His fingers find my zipper, and he pulls it down slowly.
The silk loosens, and it slides off my shoulders.
The material drops to my feet, and the warm ocean breeze moves across my bare skin.
Goose bumps trail over me as he takes a step back and admires every inch.
“Fuck,” he whispers, kissing my shoulder and my neck before capturing my mouth.
I help undress him, carefully undoing every button. My palms press against his chest, and his breathing increases. I undo his belt, and he steps out of his slacks. He picks me up, and my legs wrap around his waist.
Dyson carries me to the bed and lowers me onto the mattress. The blanket is cool against my back, but his body is warm above me. His mouth traces a path from my throat to my hip, and I disappear into the sensation of being known by him. Not just sexually, but emotionally too.
When he pushes inside me, I pull him closer, and we move together. We don’t rush.
His hand slides beneath the small of my back and lifts my hips to meet his. The angle changes, and I gasp against his shoulder. I squeeze my eyes shut, giving in to the sensation of him buried so fucking deep. My nails drag down his back, and the sound he makes is almost enough to unravel me.
“Right there.” I breathe out.
Every stroke pushes a sound out of me that I don’t recognize. I wrap my legs tighter around him as he moans against my neck. He fights to keep a steady pace as I race toward the edge.
“Look at me,” he says in a hushed tone. “I want to see you.”
I open my eyes.
“There you are.”
I smile, staring into his blues that pierce straight through me. This time, he called for eye contact, and it means more to me than he’ll ever know. We hold each other’s gaze while our bodies move together like one. There’s nowhere to hide when we’re together.
He keeps going as every muscle in my body tightens.
Seconds later, I lose myself with his name on my lips. My entire body seizes up, and I see stars as heat and pleasure roll through me.
“Dyson,” I whisper into his neck, over and over, not wanting this night to end.
He follows a few moments later. I hold him as he releases deep inside me.
We’re breathless and drunk on each other.
He pushes the hair from my forehead and kisses me.
We clean up and lie naked with our legs tangled in the sheets. We don’t say anything for a long time. The candles burn low, and the sound of the ocean enters through the open deck door. His hand rests on my stomach, and he turns to me.
“This summer has flown by,” I finally say, peppering kisses on his neck.
“It has.”
“Do you have any regrets?”
He thinks about my question, running his fingers through my hair. “No. It all led me right here.”
I smile, listening to his heartbeat. I want to say those three words. But saying them is asking him to stay, and I won’t be that woman. If he stays, it has to be because he chose it, not because I begged.
I hold him, breathing him in, drifting off with his arm across my body. The candles burn out, but the waves don’t stop. We fall asleep, holding each other, like one of us might disappear.
There are only two days left on a promise that started as a hookup and turned into the most important agreement of my life. He’s not a fling. He’s everything I’ve needed, wanted, and wished for.