Chapter 44
MELODY
“Stay,” I breathed.
The word came out before I could stop it. Desperate. Needy. But true.
Austin paused at the bathroom door, turning back to look at me. “You sure?”
“I don’t want you to leave.” I sank deeper into the water, suddenly feeling vulnerable. “The way you’re taking care of me is filling a part of my heart I didn’t even know was empty.”
His expression softened. “Melody, you need time. I get it. Just enjoy the bath. I’m not going anywhere.” And then he laughed. “And considering we’re bobbing in the middle of the Pacific, I really mean that.”
“I don’t need time. I don’t need to be alone.”
“Baby girl, I know you well enough to know when something is bothering you. I’m not going to hound you about it.
I’m here. We’ve got the rest of the week.
I don’t want you to get tired of me. I’m a lot to handle.
Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to make our first vacation together on a yacht when you can’t escape me. ”
“I don’t want to escape you,” I said.
He smiled at that. “Good because I don’t want to escape you.”
I sighed and saw myself standing at a crossroads. The man was trying. He was so good to me. He’d been open and honest. I had to do the same for him.
“I want to let you in more. I want to tell you what’s really bothering me.”
He came back immediately, kneeling beside the tub again. “I’m here. You can tell me anything.”
“When I checked my email earlier, there was one from an account I didn’t recognize. The sender was all numbers and letters.”
He nodded, silently prompting me to continue.
“I opened it and there was a folder with your name.”
He frowned. “My name? What was it?”
“I didn’t open it. I wasn’t sure if it was a hacker or spammer. Malware. I deleted it.”
“Good. But why is it bothering you?”
“It just—it felt weird. Wrong. Like someone was trying to mess with me. With us.” I ran my hand through the water, watching it slip through my fingers. “And I know I did the right thing deleting it. But I can’t stop thinking about it. About what could have been in that folder.”
His expression darkened as I spoke, his lips pressing into a thin line. For a moment, I thought he might be angry at me for bringing it up, or at whoever sent it.
He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“That my last name is already starting to haunt you.” He ran a hand through his hair. “With the kind of wealth my family has, we’re used to being targets. People try stuff like this all the time. Phishing emails. Blackmail attempts. People claiming to have dirt that doesn’t exist.”
“Really?”
“Really. It happens more often than I care to admit.” He took my hand. “You were absolutely right not to click it. Who knows what could have been inside? Malware. A virus. Something designed to access all your data.”
“Ugh,” I muttered. “The last thing I need is someone getting into my phone.”
“I imagine you have a lot of private content on it. For work. Personal photos. Passwords.” His thumb rubbed circles on my palm. “Clicking those kinds of links can expose everything to people who will use it against you.”
My stomach churned at the thought. All of my private conversations with Cleo. Photos I would never want public. Access to my cloud account.
“I should have better security,” I said.
“I’ll help with that. There’s software I can have installed on your phone. Protective measures. My whole family uses it.” He squeezed my hand. “I should have thought of it sooner. Should have realized you’d be a target by association.”
“By association with you?”
“With me. With my family. With the Bancroft name.” He looked genuinely troubled. “I’m sorry, Melody. I never wanted my baggage to become yours.”
Hearing him explain the logic behind it made me feel better. Lighter. I eased deeper into the tub, the hot water soothing tense muscles. “I’m glad I told you.”
“I’m glad you did too.”
“I was overreacting. Making it into something bigger than it was. I should have just told you as soon as I got it. I’m a drama queen.”
“You weren’t overreacting. Your instincts were right. Something felt off, so you didn’t engage with it. That’s smart.” He brushed a strand of wet hair from my face. “But you can tell me anything.”
I looked at him—really looked at him. I saw the concern in his eyes. The tenderness in his touch. The way he’d run me a bath and sat with me and listened. He ran up to get me wine and candles and had even chosen perfect bath music.
That was a good man. I realized he was right. There was nothing shady going on. Just someone trying to mess with us and failing.
I curled my finger, beckoning him closer. “Join me.”
“In the tub?”
“In the tub.”
His eyes darkened. “Melody, I didn’t do all of this for that. I really want you to enjoy yourself. Relax. Unwind. I’m not going to bother you. Soak. Relax. I’ll be waiting.”
“Please. I don’t want space right now. I want you close.”
His eyes flashed with desire. He stood slowly. I watched as he started unbuttoning his shirt. Each button revealed more tanned skin. I found myself holding my breath.
God, he was beautiful. The shirt came off, and I got to admire his chest, his shoulders, the definition of his abs. He was watching me watch him, a slow smile spreading across his face.
“Enjoying the show?”
“If I had a stack of dollars, I would be making it rain right now.”
He chuckled, reaching for his belt. “You’re trouble.”
“You love it.”
“I really do.”
The belt came off. Then his pants. He stood there in just his boxer briefs that highlighted his ample manhood. I couldn’t help the appreciative sound that escaped my throat. To know he’d been inside me. Kissed me. It made me squirm.
“Those too,” I said in a husky voice.
“Demanding.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Not even a little bit.”
The boxers joined the rest of his clothes on the floor, and then he was stepping into the tub with me. Water sloshed over the edge, splashing onto the floor, but neither of us cared.
He settled in behind me, pulling me back against his chest. His legs bracketed mine, his arms wrapped around my waist.
“Better?” he murmured against my ear.
“So much better.”
We sat like that for several seconds. He reached for the glass of wine I had put on the edge of the tub. He took a drink. “Wow, that is really good.”
I took it from him and took my own drink. There was something strangely intimate about sharing a glass of wine. We were naked in a tub, and sharing a glass was what made me feel close to him.
“We’re in a tub on the ocean,” I murmured.
He chuckled. “Yes we are.”
“I can’t believe this is my life.”
“It is.”
His lips nipped at my earlobe before sliding lower. I tilted my head to the side to give him plenty of access.
His arms tightened around my waist, hands smoothing up my ribs until his thumbs brushed the swell of my breasts. Everything inside me liquefied. I arched, letting my head fall back against his shoulder. “Austin,” I whispered, surprised at how husky my voice sounded.
He answered by skating his lips along the column of my throat, slow, deliberate, like he had all the time in the world.
Each brush of his mouth left sparks zipping across my skin.
I reached back, gripping his hip, anchoring myself against the tantalizing sway of the yacht.
He hummed against my pulse, making it jump.
With one hand, he gathered my hair, moved it aside so he could trace my shoulder with the tip of his tongue.
With the other, he traced lazy spirals along my waist, then dipped lower, edging under the water but stopping short of anything outright lascivious.
The deliberate restraint made my heartbeat stutter.
I scooted back against him. It was accidental, but the friction of him—hot, hard, pressed against the small of my back—had me pressing again on purpose.
A low groan rumbled from his chest and across my skin.
I felt it everywhere. His palm slid higher, cupping my breast, thumb sweeping over my nipple so gently I nearly stopped breathing.
Then again, firmer, a teasing pinch that drew a wanton sound from my throat.
Water lapped over the side. With the candlelight flickering and the soft jazz pumping through hidden speakers, it all blurred into one high hum of anticipation.
I twisted, turning to face him, knees straddling his thighs in the oversized tub.
Droplets clung to his lashes. Steam curled around us.
I tipped my forehead to his, breathing the same warm air.
“Just so you know,” I murmured, tracing the strong line of his jaw, “I plan on killing you slowly.”
Austin’s answering grin was wicked, victorious.
His hands settled on my hips, guiding me closer until I could feel the rigid heat of him trapped between us.
It was just a little more proof that he was right there with me on the edge.
He kissed me slowly, languidly, but with a greedy edge that made my toes curl.
When his tongue swept across my lip, I parted under him without hesitation.
He deepened the kiss and made me ache. We came up for air and I stole it back again, diving back for more.
I combed my fingers through his damp hair, tugging just hard enough to make him growl.
“I can’t decide if you feel better against me or inside me,” I confessed.
The words slipped out before I could censor them.
Heat flooded my cheeks but I didn’t regret it.
His sharp inhale told me he definitely liked the honesty.
Instead of answering, he slid a hand between us, fingertips feathering along the inside of my thigh and higher, until my breath stuttered. One teasing touch.
“We should pick up where we left off on the beach,” he said. His voice was rough. Gravelly.
“Should we?”
“Definitely.” His hands slid up my sides, leaving trails of heat. “Unless you’re too tired?”
“I’m never too tired for you.”
And then we were kissing, deep and hungry, all the tension from earlier transforming into something else entirely. Something better.
His hands were everywhere—my back, my hips, my thighs. I responded in kind, tracing the hard planes of his chest, feeling his muscles flex under my touch. He groaned when my fingers found particularly sensitive spots.
“Melody,” he breathed against my lips. “You’re perfect. So fucking perfect.”
The water made everything slippery and sensual. We moved together, finding our rhythm as our bodies rubbed together.
When things got too intense for the confines of the tub, Austin stood, lifting me with him. Water cascaded off our bodies, creating puddles on the tile.
“Bed,” he said.
“Bed,” I agreed.
He practically dragged me to the bedroom, both of us wet and laughing. He laid me down on the sheets. Then he was covering my body with his, holding his weight on his forearms as he kissed me.