Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

WOOD

I stop in my tracks. "You mean my offer to make you come?"

She flushes immediately, looking around the empty hall. "Um… I mean, if you want to."

"I do."

Her eyes widen. The cutest little deer caught in headlights I've ever seen. "You do?"

"Yeah." I take a step closer. "And let's not pretend it was my proposition when you're the one who brought it up first."

She puffs up her chest. "I did not."

"Did too."

"Last night doesn't count. I was inebriated." A rogue curl bounces onto her forehead.

"You're even cuter when you're feisty."

Macy glares harder.

I lean in and whisper in her ear, "I can't wait to see what you look like when you're coming for me."

She gasps but I can tell by the way the pulse point in her neck has sped up that what I said excites her. And I'm going to keep it up all night, because being good in bed begins way before you're in the bedroom.

I wink at her then lead her to the stairs, my hand lightly on the small of her back. Her dress tonight has pretty purple flowers all over it and now I'm thinking about flowers and petals and I've been semi-erect this entire conversation and I don't know how I'm going to make it through the night knowing how it's going to end.

"How are you going to do it?" Macy asks so quietly I barely hear her. People are walking around downstairs, the conversations getting louder as we descend.

"With my tongue."

She pauses on the step, her hand tight on the railing. "Oh."

"Is that not what you were thinking?"

She swallows. "I guess I was thinking more… digitally."

"Oh, my hands will be involved, too." We reach the bottom of the stairs and I slide my arm around her waist. "If that's okay with you," I add.

She nods.

We walk through the entryway and to the large space where everyone has gathered just as the wedding coordinator with the severe haircut ushers everyone out the French doors and down to the dock.

"Last chance. We can still turn around and skip tonight," I say as we cross the lawn.

"Nope. I'm good." She holds her head up high and puts a smile on her face.

Off the dock, we get into a small boat that is taking us to a bigger boat for the sunset cruise. And by big boat, I mean mega-yacht with a deck as big as half a regulation-sized basketball court.

I help Macy onto the yacht by the hand, steadying her around the waist.

Bex is in a sparkly dress with Jake's arm around her on the deck to greet the guests. Servers hand out champagne as we arrive.

"No shots tonight," Bex says with a wink before hugging Macy around the waist.

"Oh, I'm not drinking tonight at all," Macy says.

"Right! Shit. Sorry." Bex grimaces, hiding her champagne glass behind her back.

I pull Macy in closer. "That's good. You shouldn't get drunk tonight."

She looks down, then up at me through her lashes. "Did I embarrass you last night? I'm sorry."

"Fuck, no." I know why that's where her mind went. I clench and unclench my fist, reliving the wholesome daydream I've been having lately about punching Spencer in the face and breaking his stupid tiny glasses.

I exhale then bend down to whisper against her temple, "No, I just want you to be completely present when I make you come later. And I definitely don't want you going and forgetting it after."

Her cheeks turn a peachy-pink, and I almost apologize—I don't want to embarrass her. But I love that my words can elicit a physical response from her, and I can't wait to see what kind of responses and noises I can coax out of her later.

Fuck. And now I'm hard again. I need to get ahold of myself or I'm going to be fighting off an erection all night like I'm a teenager.

"Macy, dear." Saundra has just arrived onto the boat behind us, her husband a few steps behind. "I didn't know if we'd see you tonight. I'm glad you were able to join us and you're looking much better after your little mishap this morning." Her eyes roam slowly up and down Macy's dress, as if comparing it to her own sharp pantsuit.

"I don't know if I'd call a hyperglycemic emergency a mishap ," I say, keeping a smile on my face but not bothering to hide the edge in my voice. "It's kind of wild how we can't control whether our pancreases work properly or not. I'm glad yours does, Mrs. Hayes. Weird flex, though. But hey, we won't keep you from mingling with your guests."

I whisk Macy away without even waiting for a hand squeeze from her or a reply from Saundra.

The boat leaves the dock and sets out on the water. The water is calm. The sky is clear except for a few clouds striating the sky in streaks.

We walk around and mingle. Macy isn't in the mood to talk much, so I do most of the talking for us. She has that smile on again—the one that she does when she doesn't want anyone to know she's sad.

I hug her to me as I ease her away from the crowd. "Are you feeling okay? Any motion sickness? Need something to eat?"

She looks up, her smile staying the same, but her eyes lose their weariness. "No nausea. And I think I can wait until dinner. Thanks, Wood." She leans against my side, and I resist the urge to wrap both arms around her.

I bend over, catching the citrusy scent of her hair. "They're going to start dinner soon. Should we go find somewhere private where you can test?"

There it is. There's her real smile. "Yeah," she says. "That would be good."

I find one of the crew members and ask where the restroom is. He says there's one just below deck to the right.

"Only one? On this whole yacht?" I slip him a fifty. "Is there one that's more…private?"

He glances between me and Macy and slides the bill into his pocket. "Two levels down is the crew bathroom. Down the hall toward the back of the boat, third door on the left."

"Thanks, my man."

I hold Macy's hand as we navigate down the steep steps to get below deck. There's a line of at least five people waiting to use the bathroom.

Nope.

Still holding her hand, I lead her around to the smaller set of stairs tucked under the first ones.

She takes the steps slowly. "The heels," she says with an apologetic smile.

"Take all the time you need, love."

It's darker down here, with none of the rich wood paneling, gold sconces, or navy carpet, just white walls and rubber floors and metal cages over bare bulbs lining the hallway. All the doors are shut, circular metal plaques labeling each one.

"Here we go." I turn the knob on the one labeled lavatory .

And when I open the door, there is my cousin, leaning up against the sink. Livvy is on her knees in front of him, the strap of her dress fallen down her shoulder. His belt undone and his tattooed hand in her hair, pumping her head up and down on him.

He glances up at me just before I slam the door shut.

"Jesus Christ, you guys. Haven't you heard of locking a door?"

Noah snickers.

"Sorry!" Livvy says, her words garbled, like she still has his cock in her mouth.

"At least I didn't have to see anyone's bare ass this time."

I look over at Macy. She has her hand over her mouth and is laughing, too.

I shake my head and sigh, unable to keep a serious expression, either. "Okay, let's find you somewhere else."

We walk down back toward the stairs when Macy points at a door that says laundry.

I try the door. It's unlocked. We step in, turning on the light.

"Will this work?"

"It has a sink and soap. It'll do," Macy says.

I let her do her thing, turning away just for the finger-poke-blood stuff so I don't get queasy, and then we go back up to the main deck where dinner is beginning to be served.

Noah and Livvy come up a few minutes later, his shirt slightly untucked and her hair falling out of the knot she'd had it in. They see us and Livvy waves. They head over to us, each grabbing two flutes of champagne from a passing server on their way.

Livvy gives one of the drinks to Macy and Noah hands me one.

"Apology not accepted," I say, taking it.

"Olivia." Her mother taps her on the shoulder with one thin, raised brow and Livvy turns toward her. "Your hair looks a mess. I know you're not the bride or even the maid of honor, but people are still paying attention to you."

"I know, Mother." Livvy sighs and takes a sip of champagne.

Noah puts his hand on Livvy's back and grins. "But we had so much fun messing it up, Mrs. B. Doesn't that count for something?"

Mrs. Bishop's eyes widen, and she takes a half step back. "We will talk about this later," she snaps at Livvy before walking away.

"Sorry, angel," Noah whispers before kissing Livvy on the temple.

"How much longer are we stuck on this boat for?" she asks.

"Two hours and forty-seven minutes," I say.

Macy looks up at me, her lips slightly parted. "Keeping track, are we?"

I squeeze her hip. "Yes. For…reasons."

We sit for dinner. I drink both flutes of champagne. When they come around with dessert—a lemon curd tart with a slice of sugared grapefruit—Macy declines, so I do as well. I don't want to make her watch me eat dessert without her. But she looks longingly at everyone else's little dessert plates as they eat.

Jazzy music is playing through the speakers softly in the background as dinner service winds down.

I bend toward her. "Will you dance with me?"

She tears her gaze away from Bex, who's devouring her last bite of tart. "Huh?"

I hold out my hand to her. "Come on. I'd really love to dance with you."

She looks at my outstretched hand and then up to me, silent for a beat. She wants to say no. I can feel it. "Um. Okay." She takes my hand, slowly standing up.

I lace our fingers together and walk her to the open part of the deck. She's a bit stiff. I lead us through and then around to the side of the boat.

"Where are we going?" she asks.

I take her to the back deck of the boat, away from everyone else. "Where we can dance without anyone watching."

Dane and Zayne are on the other side at the back railing. Dane is taking rapid fire pictures of Zayne, who's posing with the sun setting over the water in the background.

"Well, almost everyone," I say, shrugging.

Macy smiles. She's so magnificent, I wouldn't even notice the sunset if it weren't for the way it's glowing orange and yellow along the edges of her hair.

As we're walking, she slows. Her smile fades. She's biting her lip now, standing rigid.

"Are you feeling sick?"

"No." She looks up at me, brows drawn, and I know she's in distress.

"Tell me."

She chews on the inside of her cheek. "My feet hurt. These heels are uncomfortable. I knew they were uncomfortable, but they're cute. I know I shouldn't have worn them. It's my own fault?—"

"Take them off."

"We're on a multi-million dollar yacht and you want me to take my shoes off?"

"I want you to be comfortable."

"You wouldn't be embarrassed by me?"

"What? Never. Who cares if you're not wearing shoes?"

She glances over my shoulder. "Many people over there would."

"Fuck them." I kneel and start undoing the clasps around her ankles. She slides her feet out and kicks them off to the side. "Now you're free," I say.

I lift her arm and spin her in a circle. The skirt of her dress twirling around her knees. I swing her away and then back into my arms. She lets out a little laugh, her face alight.

"There she is," I whisper.

We sway and dance in slow circles as the sun gets lower and the sky turns pink. No fancy dance steps. My ballroom instructor of two years, Ms. LaFleur, would not be impressed. Not that I ever really impressed her.

Macy's relaxed. She looks up at me with a real smile, and I want to remember this moment forever. Memorize her face and every freckle and stray hair blowing in the breeze, the way she smells and the way she feels in my arms.

"I want to kiss you again," I whisper.

Her eyes widen. "You do?"

"Yes," I chuckle. "Why is that so hard to believe?"

"I don't know, I just?—"

I lower my voice. "I'm going to be kissing a lot more than just your lips in a little while."

Her cheeks turn crimson and the pulse point on her neck is beating faster along with her quickening breaths. As she looks up at me, her pupils are dilated, and she licks her lips in anticipation.

"I'm looking forward to it," I whisper as I lean in and touch my lips to hers.

She goes up on her tiptoes and wraps her arms around my neck to kiss me back. None of the trepidation from our first kiss.

I hold her closer, deepening the kiss, our mouths opening in tandem so our tongues can lazily explore each other. Unhurried.

Her soft sighs are sweet against my lips. Her body, even softer, melting against me.

I am not soft. I'm hard, and part of me hopes she doesn't notice my erection pressed against her stomach. The other part of me knows she feels it and loves how she's not pulling away. In fact, I think she's pushing against it purposefully. It makes my balls tighten and ache.

She sucks on my tongue, and I can't help but groan. I've never wanted anything more—anyone more—than her.

I pull away to catch my breath and put my hand to her cheek. Her eyes are half lidded, lips are darkened and puffy from the kiss. I drag my thumb along her bottom pouty lip. Suddenly, I want to know what they'd look like with my cock slipping between them. What she'd look like just properly fucked—glowing and beautiful with her hair spread across the pillow.

But I'll settle for knowing what she looks like just properly kissed—a serene smile on her face. And soon, what she looks like after I make her come.

Movement catches my eye and I look up. Spencer is above us on the bridge deck, elbows on the railing and glaring down at us through his punchable little glasses.

I go back to kissing her.

The staircase up to our room seems never ending, like trying to go up the down escalator. My hand on the rail is sweaty. Macy is just ahead of me, barefoot, her shoes in my other hand.

"How are you feeling?" I ask when we finally reach the top of the landing.

She looks up at me with her brown eyes and a little smile. "I'm good."

"Still no nausea?"

"I'm not going to vomit this time." She punches me playfully in the arm.

"Are you sure? Because I don't think my ego could take it if you threw up, you know, during…" I turn the doorknob, hoping she doesn't notice the slight tremble in my fingers.

I've never been this nervous about a hookup before, but I can't let her know that.

"Believe me," she says as we walk inside, "I would be the mortified one in that scenario." She takes her earrings out and sets them in a little dish on the dresser.

I put her shoes down and start taking off mine.

"I'm going to go take a shower," she says, her back to me.

"Why?"

She turns, eyes wide, cheeks pink. "So I'm… I mean, to make sure I'm all clean…everywhere."

My cock twitches. "Macy, I could not give less of a fuck. Come here."

I want to kiss her again.

"Well, I do. Just give me a minute."

"Okay."

While the water runs on the other side of the door I change into my gray sweats and a white T-shirt. I'm not sure what to do with myself. Sitting on the bed doesn't feel right. Sitting in the chair in the corner is awkward. So I end up just pacing around the room until the water shuts off.

I stop, hands on my hips, heart pounding, watching the door.

The seconds are agonizing. The minutes unbearable.

Finally, she opens the bathroom door and comes out.

Macy. My Macy.

I know she's not mine, but my mind goes there anyway.

She's wearing her baggy Garfield T-shirt she normally sleeps in. She looks adorable in it. But she doesn't have on the little plaid shorts she normally wears with it. Her thighs are pale and silky smooth, and I can't help but imagine how they'll feel against my face.

Her face is bare, her skin pink and glowing. Her freckles seem to have multiplied from being in the sun the last few days.

She's gorgeous. Stunning.

If I thought my heart was racing before, it's jackhammering in my chest now.