know—but I ha一ve my
inflatable—for what, I don’t know—but I ha一ve my
suspicions because as soon as Mac starts the outboard
engine, Christian grabs my hand and practically drags me
into his cabin, a man with a mission.
Now he stands before me, exuding his intoxicating
sensuality as his deft fingers make quick work of the straps
on my lifejacket. He tosses it to one side and gazes intently
down at me, eyes dark, dilated.
I’m already lost and he’s barely touched me. He raises
his hand to my face, and his fingers move down my chin,
the column of my throat, my sternum, searing me with his
touch, to the first button of my blue blouse.
“I want to see you,” he breathes and dexterously
undoes the button. Bending, he plants a soft kiss on my
parted lips. I am panting and eager, aroused by the potent
combination of his captivating beauty, his raw sexuality in
the confines of this cabin, and the gentle sway of the boat.
He stands back.
“Strip for me,” he whispers, eyes burning.
Oh my. I’m only too happy to comply. Not taking my
Oh my. I’m only too happy to comply. Not taking my
eyes off his, I slowly undo each button, sa一voring his
scorching gaze. Oh, this is heady stuff. I can see his desire
—it’s evident on his face . . . and elsewhere.
I let my shirt fall to the floor and reach for the button
on my jeans.
“Stop,” he orders. “Sit.”
I sit down on the edge of the bed, and in one fluid
movement he’s on his knees in front of me, undoing the
laces of first one and then the other sneaker, pulling each
off, followed by my socks. He picks up my left foot and
raising it, plants a soft kiss on the pad of my big toe, then
grazes his teeth against it.
“Ah!” I moan as I feel the effect in my groin. He stands
in one smooth move, holds his hand out to me, and pulls
me up off the bed.
“Continue,” he says and stands back to watch me.
I ease the zipper of my jeans down and hook my
thumbs in the waistband as I sashay then slide the denim
down my legs. A soft smile plays on his lips, but his eye
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