Lap of Luxury (Love Don't Cost a Thing)

Damir smiles. “No, you’re not, are you?” Slowly, he slides his hand around my hips, and then descends into my sweatpants to cup my naked ass. “Not right this minute, anyway.” He bends closer so his lips are against my ear. “Not like you were last night.”

He goes on kneading my ass, and then slips down deeper toward my pussy. I put my hands on his chest, trying to remember what we were talking about. His brother. His father. Me not missing…oh, god. His fingers reached my clit, and I’m back there in the dark, feeling gravity pull me down the thick length of his cock as he has me pinned against the wall.

“Damir, don’t—”

Damir plants a kiss on my mouth and I’m already breathing hard. The tip of his tongue teases mine, and I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like on my clit if he had me spread open beneath him.

When Damir draws back, he’s smiling a devilish smile. He looks around us in satisfaction, as if he’s pleased to find the sun is shining and the waves are lapping at the sides of the yacht.

“No one around for miles. Nothing to do but wait until it’s time.”

“Time for what?”

But he doesn’t reply. “It’s rather pleasant this, being a wanted man. Almost like being on vacation. What do you think, shall we enjoy ourselves today?”

Chapter Fourteen

Damir

She eyes me suspiciously. “What do you mean, enjoy ourselves?”

“Just what I said. Enjoy ourselves.”

Bethany looks so wary that I can’t help but grin again. “You know, have fun. Relax. There’s a pool back there. We can swim, then maybe watch a movie.”

She tucks her hair behind her ears and pulls my hand out of her sweats as she moves away. “Oh, enjoy ourselves, like normal people? I didn’t think you’d be into that.”

I can do normal things. Isn’t fucking her senseless normal?

Who cares? I’ll do it anyway.

“Très drôle,” I say, holding out my arm and directing her back to my cabin.

“What’s that mean? “Very funny”? That’s French, not Slovenian.”

I cast her a mysterious look. “It is. Maybe it’s a clue for later.”

I have a few pairs of swimming shorts and I lend one of them to Bethany, and she changes into them in the bathroom. She emerges with the sweats over her arms and my T-shirt on. I’m already missing the sweats.

“You don’t have to wear anything. I’ve seen you naked,” I point out. The moonlight was luminous on her skin. Her unmarked, pretty skin. How beautiful she’d look under sunlight, too.

She puts her nose in the air and sails past me. “Come on, are we swimming or not?”

The water is perfect and blue in the sixteen-foot-long pool. Bethany jumps straight in, and comes up gasping with pleasure, my white T-shirt clinging to her breasts. I slide in next to her.

“Being in the water on a yacht in the middle of the sea, with no one to disturb us.” I smile, remembering her faked posts on the dating app. “It’s a shame you can’t Instagram this moment.”

“I’d need a bikini for Instagram. Why don’t you take me shopping?” Bethany smiles prettily up at me.

I feel puzzled for a moment, before I remember that she has an ulterior motive for going ashore. The morning after pill. And another likely ulterior motive. Escaping me. “I could. But you’re rather cute in my clothes.”

I wrap my arms around her in the water, but she ducks out of my grasp and slips away like a mermaid.

I watch her lazily from the shallows as she swims laps, her body cutting through the water. She’s quite fit, I realize, watching her move easily back and forth.

After a while I get out and lie on a sunbed, napping in the warm sunshine. When I open my eyes again Bethany is out of the water, too, and is occupying another bed that’s in the shade. Being careful of her skin, I suppose. I’ve always tanned easily but Bethany looks like the sort of English rose who would burn to a crisp.

I go see about some lunch for us, and come back with a tray from the galley. Smoked salmon, cheese, crackers, grapes, and a bottle of champagne. The yacht was well-stocked when we set off from Southampton. I put the tray on a low table and sit down on Bethany’s sunbed without waiting for an invitation. She scooches up, looking annoyed, but then interested as her eyes land on the food. She didn’t each much at breakfast. I put a piece of brie on a cracker and hand it to her.