33. Thirty-Three

Thirty-Three

A s we climb back up on deck, the yacht's already moving out of the marina. Big Steve shoves a glass of champagne in my hand, and Lucy's already taken up residence at the back of the deck, sprawled across the seats, sunning herself.

"Enjoy!" Big Steve grins, settling back onto the seat beside her as she shifts to get comfortable and rests her head on his chest.

I can't deny, they do look good together.

I swing my eyes to the front of the yacht to find Art standing at the helm, hands on the wheel, wearing nothing but black swim shorts. I chug back a mouthful of champagne as I admire the roped muscles of his broad back and golden skin that's turning a darker shade of bronze across the tops of his shoulders, where he's catching the sun. He's perfect, and that's just the back of him.

I walk up behind him and slide an arm around his waist, noting him tense with surprise as I plant a kiss between his shoulder blades, which are warm from the sun.

"You know how to drive a boat," I say, stating the obvious. "Is there anything you can't do, apart from cook?"

He laughs as we turn out of the marina and start to gain speed. "No, I'm practically perfect in every way." Then, more seriously, he adds, "Dad took me sailing a few times."

He shifts to the side and scoops his arm around my waist, pulling me to stand in front of him by the wheel. "Come here."

Tranquil aqua-blue waters stretch out onto the horizon, merging into the clear blue sky as the breeze whips through my hair and causes my kimono to flap against my thighs.

"This is beautiful," I breathe, drawing in a lungful of sea air.

He rests his chin on my shoulder and continues to steer the yacht, pressing his warm chest against my back and dropping a gear, causing the boat to slow and the rumble of the engine to quieten slightly.

My curiosity gets the better of me, and I must ask, "Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise," he says in my ear and presses his hips into my backside, pushing his erection between my cheeks.

"It feels like you've already got one of those for me," I quip, sipping my champagne and leaning back into him.

"We'll sort that out later."

He places a kiss on the base of my neck, and a shudder runs through my body at his words.

"Here, you try."

He removes his hands from the wheel, and I hesitate at the fact that he's giving me responsibility for steering the boat.

He laughs softly. "Go on."

I put my glass down on the side and take the steering wheel, trying to keep us headed in a straight line. "Don't blame me if we end up in France."

He loops his arms around my waist and gives me a reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry; I'll stop us from veering off course."

"Seriously, where are we going?" I press.

"Straight ahead." The vibration of his voice against the flesh at the base of my neck causes my skin to pucker. "Land ahoy."

I squint at the horizon and can just about make out a coastline in the distance. "What's that?"

"An island." He kisses my throat, and I briefly close my eyes at the feel of his lips on me. "Our very own private island."

My eyes snap open. "Private?"

"Mmhmm." He kisses the sensitive skin beneath my right ear, and my breathing hitches. "I don't want to have to share you with anyone else today."

His possessive words send a bolt of desire shooting between my thighs as I wonder what he's got planned. As if reading my body, he uncurls his right arm from around my waist and dips his hand beneath the edge of my kimono, pressing his palm between my legs. I close my eyes and push my hips against his hand, increasing the friction between my thighs.

His free hand takes to the gear and pushes it forwards, causing the engine to roar to life. "And I can't wait any longer."

The island's rocky, golden coastline is dappled with greenery. Turquoise waters lap against the sandy white shoreline. It's a tiny paradise, a pebble in the deep blue ocean.

He cuts the engine and climbs down onto the deck to drop anchor, and I realise that Lucy and Big Steve have vanished. I'm about to ask where they've gone when I hear a squeal of laughter from below deck.

He lifts an eyebrow. "Let's leave them to it, shall we? Come on."

A yellow dinghy is attached to the back of the boat, and as I step down onto the deck, he's already aboard, sitting on one of the small benches. He holds out his hand for me to take.

I throw an uncertain glance at him and then at the small vessel bobbing up and down in the water. We're still quite a way out from the shore.

"We're going in that?"

His lips twitch into a smile. "We can't take the yacht to shore. It's too big, and there are rocks." He pushes his Ray-Bans on top of his head and fixes me with a look. "Do you really think I'm going to let anything happen to you?"

His reassuring words sway me. I take his hand, and he helps me down the short ladder into the dinghy. He unties the rope and powers up the engine, steering us across the waters and navigating around the rocks with a masterful ease, which proves this isn't his first time.

As we grow closer to the shore, the waters become crystal clear, and the rocky coastline gives way to coves and shaded areas a little farther across the white sandy beach. A golden rugged cliff juts out ahead, topped with grasses blowing in the gentle breeze. It's a paradise hidden away from the rest of the world, and I've never been anywhere like this in my life. Lucy's words from earlier about how the other half lives ring in my ears. Maybe this is how millionaires' holiday.

"Take my hand." His voice pulls me from my daydream. He's standing in the shallow waters with his Ray-Bans on and a rolled-up blanket under his arm, offering me an outstretched hand.

I'm still a little stunned. "This is beautiful," I whisper, placing my hand in his.

He flicks me a smile. "Wait till we get to shore."