The Good Father

His penis was hard. His heart pounding. “I’m not seeing anyone,” he continued when she remained silent. “Jeff tells me you aren’t, either. It’s not unheard of, you know. Two people who can’t live together, but still care about each other, being attracted to each other, seeking each other out for physical company now and then.”

Leaving her in the morning was a given. He had full confidence on that score. Had proved his resolve to himself—and to her—enough to know that it was rock solid. It was the next hour he was concerned about.

“I’m asking seriously, Brett. Can we really have sex and walk away without scalding ourselves?”

She wanted it as badly as he did. The fact that she wasn’t driving them the hell out of there was proof of that. That peculiar little tremor in her voice said so more quietly. It was that tremor that called him to his feet, to cross the carpeted expanse between them. Keeping his hands to his sides, he leaned over and placed his lips against hers. The choice was hers. She could grab hold. Or step back.

Ella opened her mouth. The boat lurched.

And Brett didn’t think of anything but getting them naked.

* * *

THE SPLASHING SOUND woke Ella from her doze. She hadn’t been deeply enough asleep to lose awareness of the fact that s

he only had a few hours left in Brett’s arms.

But the rest of the world had ceased to exist.

There it was again. That splash. She blinked against the darkness.

And that was when she remembered... “The crank!”

Jumping up from the bed of clothes on the floor of the boat, tripping over them, she rushed to lower the anchor. And saw that they’d docked against the edge of the lagoon that led into the ocean. A few feet more to the right and they’d have floated out to sea.

“I’d say fate was smiling on us tonight.” Brett’s low tones, soft and sexy and relaxed behind her, had her instantly wanting him all over again.

“Or you could say that we were just incredibly stupid,” she whispered, holding on to the crank for dear life.

She no longer felt like the Ella Ackerman she’d been before meeting Brett again. She was hot and desperate and willing to do anything to keep him with her.

In the dark.

As long as it stayed dark.

Which would only be another couple hours based on the moon’s position in the sky.

“Can you go again? Or are you too sore?” He was rubbing his penis between her legs from behind.

She couldn’t answer him. Because her mind was screaming no. So she nodded. Felt Brett nudge against her. His kisses on the back of her neck.

And when he offered himself to her, she took him.

CHAPTER TWENTY

MORNING CAME. IT always did.

Brett hoped the weekend hangover didn’t kill them all. No one had even come close to getting drunk. It was the emotions that had flowed too freely that might do them all in.

He and Ella had made sure to return to their respective sleeping places by dawn.

Chloe got up first and made breakfast while Ella and Brett got up separately, avoiding each other.

Ella cleaned up the cabin. And then showered.

Brett packed the cars. He’d shower later. After a long, hard swim in his pool.

As planned, Chloe said goodbye to Jeff—with a long hug and trembling lips—then buckled her son into the car seat in the back of Ella’s vehicle, before climbing aboard herself.