Chapter 6
“This is promising,” Raegan says as she steps onto the huge boat hosting the singles mixer. The night is chilly, the sky an inky blue, and the sparkle of downtown glows in the distance. The boat sways gently, docked at the marina so singletons can hop on, hoping to find the love of their life. It’s bright and full of promise, but I have one mission only.
I’m going to find my friend some dick.
Not me. Kissing Smith freaked me out so much that I’m safe back in my single-lady cocoon, warm and content.
I’m down to thinking about Smith maybe five times a day. It’s been four days since I looked at his picture on the firm’s website.
I feel like I’m cured.
“Do you see anyone interesting?” she asks. I look around. No good prospects for Raegan yet. And definitely not for me.
“I need a drink,” I proclaim, and Raegan follows me into the galley, up to the bartender clad in a white shirt and black vest.
“One gin and tonic,” I say.
Instead of Raegan giving her drink order, I hear a man’s voice, running my blood chunks-of-iceberg cold.
“Make it two,” he says.
When I turn around, I grab my chest.
Smith Cooper Kennedy, looking way too good, standing right in front of me.
“Who is this, Cassie?” Raegan says, stabbing me in the side with her sharp elbow.
“Raegan, this is my old boss Smith Kennedy. Mr. Kennedy, this is my friend, Raegan.”
“You’re back to calling me Mr. Kennedy. Interesting.”
I swallow the hard lump in my throat. Smith looks sexier than ever, wearing a fitted gray shirt with his sleeves rolled to his elbows and a pair of black pants fitting him too well.
I can see the outline of the impressive bulge I’ve felt, and I have to look away.
My body used to tense with disdain, but now it’s tensing for another reason. I want to jump him and eat his face.
Raegan leans in. “Oh, is this the one? You know, the elevator?”
I want this boat to sink right now because yes, Raegan, this is the man I’m trying to forget.
“Yes,” I say through clenched teeth.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Raegan says, shaking his hand. “Are you also looking for a special someone?”
His eyes drill into me. “Just one.”
I slap my hand on the counter of the bar to steady myself. Did he get more good-looking? I want to pull him into a closet or a bathroom and have my way with him. Then I remind myself why I’m here: Raegan needs a wing woman. That’s my only mission tonight.
“Just one,” Raegan repeats. “Is that, by chance, Cassie?”
“Shut up, Raegan,” I seethe.
“Maybe,” Smith says, tucking a twenty in the tip jar.
He’s a good tipper too? Consider my panties officially wet.
The bartender sets down two gin and tonics and a Moscow Mule for Raegan. I sip the drink immediately, hoping the gin can knock some sense into me.
Smith is not a viable option.
Broken.
Recently divorced.
Might still be an asshole.
Dick might be too big for me.
I wince. The last one is not a good excuse.
“Well, we better go and mingle. I would hate for women to think you’re interested in us,” I say, pulling an unwilling Raegan away.
“What if I am?”
“Have a wonderful night!” I say, pulling a protesting Raegan away from that conversation.
“He’s even better-looking than his photo,” Raegan says, looking behind her. “Are you out of your mind, Cassie?”
“I am not. I am level-headed. I cannot start something with that man.”
“Why not?” Raegan asks loudly. I slap my hand over her mouth.
“Like I said, I’m only here for moral support. I want to find you a boyfriend.”
“You were game at brunch last weekend, and now you’re running away from that?” Raegan says. “He’s the kind of good-looking that you know he has a shit ton of money. Like a shit ton.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t need to marry a devastatingly handsome and successful man who wears a watch that costs more than my rent to be happy and complete and whole.”
Raegan’s green eyes narrow on me. “Who said anything about getting married? I was talking about sex. Accepting lavish gifts. Being a sugar baby.”
No,” I yell, and people look at me. I lean in. “It’s just not my journey.”
“He’s still looking at you.” Raegan’s sharp elbow hits me again, and we look across the deck. Smith slowly sips his gin and tonic from the side, not through the straw. The way his lips cover the side of the glass throws a vision into my head of him. Between my legs, covering my clit with those perfect lips. Sucking, licking…
“Did you just moan?” Raegan asks.
“No,” I say, turning so I can rest my forearms on the railing and avoid his penetrating gaze.
“You should talk to him. He hasn’t stopped looking at you,” Raegan says.
After I get my breath under control, I turn back to her with a smile. “Okay, so who here is your type? What about that guy?”
I covertly point to a good-looking guy in glasses and a patterned shirt.
She scrunches her button nose. “Too nerdy.”
“That’s not nerdy. You know what Smith told me in the elevator?” I say with a laugh. “He’s into Buffy the Vampire Slayer. So nerdy, right?”
“Right,” Raegan agrees, eyes narrowing further. “I think you need to talk to Smith.”
“About what? There’s no reason for me to talk to him.”
Raegan now folds her arms against her chest and flicks an eyebrow. “Didn’t you kiss him?”
“So?” I say.
“You don’t kiss random people. You haven’t kissed anyone the whole time I’ve known you.”
Smith’s eyes still glaze over my skin, causing shivers. No, that’s just San Francisco.
“Think about it. I need to do a lap. I heard somewhere that women are easier to approach if they’re alone,” Raegan says. She takes me in a warm hug and kisses my cheek. “Just talk to him.”
“Maybe,” I say as Raegan leaves me all alone on the deck.
The minute she walks away, the men notice and hone in.
The first brave man approaches, and I tilt up my chin. Turning down men can be fun.
“Your dress is really pretty,” the man says.
I look down at my navy blue maxi-dress and back up. “Thanks.”
“You know where it would look even better?” he asks. I close my eyes to brace for the blow. “My floor.”
“Okay, enough,” Smith says, sandwiching himself between the pickup artist and myself.
“Hey man, I was just getting started.”
“You need a lot more than that for this caliber of woman,” he says.
The pickup artist points to Smith. “Are you okay with this?”
Smith being so close to me, his pheromones making me powerless?
“Absolutely,” I say.
“We have business to attend to,” he says, offering my arm like we’re going to a ball. I take it, and he leads me into the warm air of the cabin.
We find a gender-neutral bathroom, and he pulls me in.
Another enclosed space. I should escape.
Instead, I cock out my leg from the slit on my dress like I’m Angelina Jolie.
He locks the door, and I cross my arms across the cleavage I’ve got, which isn’t much.
Smith turns around, his breath oddly rough.
“You changed your phone number,” he says.
I lift an eyebrow in surprise. “I got a new phone six months ago.”
Smith places his hands on his hips again, turning around to face the door. Since I’m a weak woman, I check out his ass.
“How did you know I would be here?” I ask.
“Vincent,” Smith says. I’m not sure whether to call Vincent and yell at him or Venmo him twenty bucks.
Smith pivots, and I almost melt. His salt-and-pepper hair is perfectly styled, and his eyes crinkle at the sides. His shirt is doing some work since his muscles are straining against the fabric.
I hop on the sink, the countertop barely large enough for my butt. I’m wearing a dress, so I cross my legs, but they could open at any moment.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he says, looking at the ground. “I thought I was fine and then I saw you again at the wedding and all the feelings I’ve bottled up came rushing back. That kiss made it worse. You said men don’t chase you, but I will. If you want.”
I expect him to rush me, take my lips with his. My lips are parted; I’m waiting. He still stands there.
“That kiss was pretty great,” I say. I lean forward, letting my neckline gape. I’m not wearing a bra.
He runs his tongue across his lips, and I almost gasp.
Why am I like this?
I spent the last week actively avoiding any obsession over Smith, and now, I’m giving in after two sips of an alcoholic beverage.
I uncross my legs, and I lean back onto my palms.
I hope he doesn’t make me beg.
“What are you doing?” Smith asks, his eyes fixed on me.
“Nothing,” I say. “Just getting comfortable.”
“I’m not going to do anything until you say so.”
“I thought you were an alpha,” I say, my legs parting more. Smith hasn’t touched me yet, but if he doesn’t soon, I will.
“I am,” he says, stepping closer. “I’m also a man with values and scruples.”
“I want your scruples all over me,” I say, then wince because that makes no goddamn sense.
He laughs, and I crook my finger. Smith crosses the room in one step. His mouth covers mine, and it’s the kiss in the elevator times one thousand.
He kisses me like he’s starved, nibbling on my lip, sweeping his tongue against mine in a torrid dance. My hands go through his hair as he presses his hand into my lower back, fingertips inches from my ass. Smith pulls me closer, his hard length pressing against me, and my hips buck involuntarily, like our bodies recognize each other’s.
I can’t breathe, but I can’t come up for air. A tiny moan leaves my mouth, which would usually embarrass me, but I don’t care. All that matters is his hands on me, his cock against my clit, his mouth on me.
His touch is hesitant, but I want no doubt in his mind. I dip my hand between us, feeling him through his pants. He groans, low and guttural, hips bucking against my palm.
Holy shit, he is long and thick, growing stronger in my hand.
I grab his hand and place it on my breast. His thumb plays with my nipple.
I pull down his zipper, but he wiggles away.
His eyes lock with mine. “You first.”
Biting my lip, I watch Smith trail down my body, licking the top of my breast, pulling aside my dress strap to take a nipple in his mouth. My head rolls back, slamming against the mirror.
I might have a concussion, but I don’t care.
I gather my dress hem, and he pushes my legs wider. I’m panting, I’m so turned on and ready. He says nothing but drapes one of my legs over his shoulder and leans in.
In my experience, men removed the underwear as soon as possible, but Smith takes his time. He kisses the fabric where my clit is and she responds. A first spark of flame swirls within my core, and my eyes flutter closed.
His finger dips in, and I hope he feels how slick my walls are, how ready I am for him as he continues to suck my clit through the underwear.
“God, yes,” I whisper. His mouth knows just what to do. I buck against his mouth, silently begging him to pull my underwear to the side, pull them off, rip through them.
Just get them off me.
“Stop teasing,” I say.
“What?” he looks up, pulling his fingers out of me and licking them. “Do you want me to taste you for real?”
“Yes,” I say.
He says nothing but leans down again. He hooks his thumbs and pulls the underwear down my legs, excruciatingly slowly. I shake my legs to kick the underwear away, and his kisses on my inner thighs makes my body pulse.
When he licks my bare clit, I arch my back and moan, louder and more primal.
“Fuck yes,” I scream as he bobs his head like the professional clit jockey he is. His tongue laps and swirls and sucks and drives me to the brink of being a mad woman.
It’s been so long since I’ve had a tongue on me, much less a tongue that knows what it’s doing. It’s not long until I come undone, the payoff long and violent, my body vibrating as he continues to indulge. When my orgasm settles, he kisses my thigh and flips my dress to cover me.
His cock is in my hand when there’s a loud knock at the door. We freeze, his lips covered with my arousal.
“Madam and whoever is in there with Madam. This is Barbara, the owner of Love of Your Life Bay Cruises. We were alerted that there were some loud sounds coming from this bathroom of a sexual nature. Please make yourself decent and exit the bathroom immediately.”