Chapter 43
AUSTIN
When Melody appeared at the top of the stairs to the dining deck, I forgot how to breathe.
The dress draped across her curves in a way that was both elegant and devastating. Her skin glowed, dusted with something that sparkled. She very literally shimmered under the fading sunlight.
She looked luxurious. Soft. Like something precious and rare that I didn’t quite deserve. But tonight, she was mine.
“Hi,” she said, a slight blush coloring her cheeks as she caught me staring.
“Hi.” I managed to remember how to speak. “You look incredible, although that doesn’t even begin to cover it.”
“You like the dress?”
“I like what’s in the dress.” I stood, pulling out her chair. “But yeah, the dress is pretty spectacular too.”
“Such a gentleman,” she said.
“I’m learning.”
She laughed as she sat. I caught a whiff of her perfume.
It wasn’t the usual citrus. It was something lighter.
Something that reminded me of the beach.
I kissed the top of her head and moved back around to sit on my side.
But damn, all I really wanted to do was grab her and drag her right back downstairs and ravage her.
The day had been foreplay. I was primed and ready.
I wanted her more than I wanted anything else.
But Jean-Pierre had been working on this meal all day. I could at least pretend to have some self-control. And I knew she had gotten dressed up for me. Just me. That was worth something. I wasn’t going to mess up her perfect makeup just yet.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Starving,” she replied.
I felt like something was off. The shower had been sensual. More foreplay for my already charged libido. But now she seemed to be withdrawn. Was she upset I didn’t finish what we started? I hated that she was constantly second-guessing my desire for her.
“Good,” I said. “Dinner is going to be perfect.”
I was wrong. It wasn’t perfect. Dinner was a masterpiece.
Jean-Pierre had outdone himself with each course.
Fresh local fish prepared three different ways, tropical fruits arranged like art, flavors I couldn’t even begin to identify but that somehow worked perfectly together.
Each plate was presented like a work of art, colorful and creative and almost too beautiful to eat.
Almost.
We ate slowly, talking and laughing, watching the sun sink lower on the horizon.
Melody told me about a disaster photoshoot she’d done early in her career where everything that could go wrong did go wrong.
I told her about the time I’d crashed a Bancroft company party and accidentally started a rumor that we were acquiring a competitor.
The conversation flowed easily, like it always did with her.
And yet something continued to feel off.
I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Melody was smiling, laughing in all the right places, engaging with everything I said.
But there was something in her eyes. A distance. Like part of her was somewhere else.
After dessert—some kind of passion fruit creation that melted on the tongue—Claire appeared with a knowing smile.
“If you’ll move to the lounge chairs, we have a surprise for you.”
We settled into the cushioned chairs on the upper deck. Melody curled against my side. I wrapped my arm around her, pulling her close, breathing in that perfume that was driving me crazy.
“What’s the surprise?” she asked.
“You’ll see.”
Right on cue, the first firework exploded overhead.
Melody gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh my god!”
The crew had set up a fireworks display from the tender boat, now anchored a safe distance away. Colors burst across the sky. Gold and silver and brilliant blue, reflecting off the calm water.
“Wow! You really know how to show a girl a good time.”
I winked. “I told you, I want you to remember this little trip.”
“There’s no way I will ever forget any of it,” she said.
She settled back against me, her hand finding my knee. We watched the show in silence. Each explosion painted her face in different colors. I found myself watching her more than the fireworks.
She smiled. Laughed when a particularly large one went off. Pointed at shapes in the smoke.
But when she thought I wasn’t looking? When her attention drifted?
That distance was back. Her thoughts were loud, even though she wasn’t speaking. I could practically hear them churning. Something was wrong. Something was bothering her. And I needed to know what it was.
I couldn’t begin to guess what had happened. I had gotten out of the shower, dressed, and made sure dinner was on time. I asked about the fireworks. An hour tops. Something happened during that hour. Was she having second thoughts about spending time with me?
The fireworks finale was spectacular. Multiple colors bursting at once. Little hearts and happy faces exploded across the sky. The crew had really gone all out.
When it ended, Melody turned to me with shining eyes. “That was amazing. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I kissed her temple. “Come on. Let’s head down.”
We made our way to our stateroom, her hand in mine. She was quiet.
Inside our room, she headed straight for the bathroom to take off her makeup. I watched her for a moment, trying to figure out how to approach this. Whether to push or give her space.
Then I made a decision.
I turned on the tub, adjusting the temperature and adding some of the expensive bath oils the yacht had stocked. The bathroom filled with steam and the scent of lavender.
Melody was at the sink, wiping off her eye makeup with careful strokes. Meeting my eyes in the mirror.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Running you a bath.”
“I showered a few hours ago,” she said. “I haven’t actually done anything to need to bathe. Unless this is your way of telling me I stink.”
I laughed. “You smell amazing. I want to take care of you.” I came up behind her, resting my hands on her hips. “Something’s bothering you tonight. What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
But the words came too quickly. Too smoothly.
“Melody, I can tell.”
“I’m just tired. It was a long day with all that sun.” She set down the makeup wipe and turned to face me. “The bath sounds nice though. Thank you.”
I studied her face, trying to read what she wasn’t saying. But she had put up walls. I couldn’t see past them.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” I said finally. “But I’m here. If you want to talk. About anything.”
Something cracked in her expression. Just for a second. Like she was considering whether to let me in.
Then the walls came back up. “I know. Thank you.”
I checked the bath. It was almost full, steam rising from the surface.
“Come here,” I said softly.
She did, moving into my space with a trust that made my chest ache. I took her hand and turned her around, finding the zipper of her dress. “What are you doing?”
“Taking care of you.” I slowly lowered the zipper, my knuckles brushing her spine. “You took care of me today. Put sunscreen on my back. Made me laugh. Kept me company. Now it’s my turn.”
“I remember you putting sunscreen on me,” she joked softly.
The dress slipped off her shoulders. I helped her step out of it. Hung it carefully on the back of the door so it wouldn’t wrinkle.
She stood there in just her panties. I took a moment to appreciate her. The curve of her waist. The softness of her skin. The way she looked at me with a mix of vulnerability and desire.
I pressed a kiss to her shoulder. Then her neck. Then her collarbone. She made a small sound, her hands finding my arms for balance.
“Just let me take care of you,” I murmured against her skin. “Please.”
I pushed down her panties, kneeling in front of her and fighting the urge to put my face between her legs. I wanted to dine on her. Devour her.
But I wouldn’t.
I stood up and took her hand. I guided her to the tub. She stepped in carefully, sighing as the hot water enveloped her.
“Good?” I asked.
“Perfect.” She sank deeper, closing her eyes. “This is exactly what I needed.”
I sat on the edge of the tub, just watching her for a moment. She looked like she was about to crumble. Like whatever she was holding in was taking everything she had to keep contained.
“Relax,” I told her, pushing a strand of hair back from her face. “I’ll come back down in an hour.”
Her eyes flew open. “You’re leaving?”
“Just giving you some space. Some time to yourself.” I kissed her forehead. “Take your time. Can I get you something to drink?”
“I’m fine.”
I shook my head. “Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”
I knew women liked wine and candles with their baths. And music.
I sprinted up to the bar. My hand hesitated for a split second over the variety of bottles. I grabbed the Burgundy. It was what she needed to help whatever burden she was suddenly carrying.
“Mr. Bancroft?” Claire materialized like a polite ghost, napkin folded over her arm. “Do you need something?”
“Candles,” I cut in, breathless. “Whatever you’ve got. And music. Something soft and soothing. Maybe jazz.”
Her brows lifted a millimeter—professional restraint—but she nodded and vanished toward the galley. I snagged a long-stemmed glass and tucked the bottle under my arm. Claire returned with a small box.
“Thank you,” I said.
“The music will start soon. Would you like it throughout?”
“Just the state room is fine,” I told her. “Thank you.”
“Anything else?”
I wrinkled my nose. “You’re a woman.”
“I am.” She grinned.
“Sorry. I mean, what do you need for a relaxing bath?”
“Ah.” She nodded. “Candles. Music. Wine. I would say a book, but I don’t think you’re going to want her distracted.”
I didn’t correct her. I wasn’t taking the bath with her.
“Thanks. I guess I’m good.”
“Have a good evening,” she said.
I walked back downstairs. I opened the bottle and filled the glass. I carried it into the bathroom. Melody’s eyes were closed and her head rested on the edge.
“Wine,” I said and handed her the glass. “Give me a minute.”
I grabbed the box of candles and set them around the edge of the tub and a couple on the vanity before lighting them. Then the music started. A soft jazz that wasn’t too loud.
A watery smile tugged at her mouth. “You didn’t have to.”
“I know. But I want to.”
She took a sip of the wine, closed her eyes. “God, that’s obnoxiously good.”
I flicked off the lights, leaving only the candlelight to fill the room. “There,” I said. “You’re good. Close your eyes and relax. I’ll come back down in an hour.”
I walked to the door and turned to look at her one last time.
Damn, she was exquisite. And I was losing her. I could feel it happening in real time and I didn’t know how to stop it.