The Redemption (Filthy Rich Americans 4) - Page 107

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” I said.

He set a hand on the railing and leaned closer to me, just past the edge of what was a professional amount of space between employer and employee. “I’m sure you’re tired of spending all of our time together at my house. I thought it’d be nice to get away for an afternoon on the water.”

I drew in a deep breath. “Like a date?”

A faint smile teased his lips, and my knees softened.

The door to the main cabin was open, and I could see the woman inside, moving around in the sophisticated galley as she prepared her station. She was the chef who’d serve us lunch, and I had a vision of Macalister and me sitting on the luxurious couch inside the privacy of his sailing yacht, me sipping wine while he talked.

It was terribly romantic.

Macalister wasn’t the wealthiest man in the world, but he was filthy rich. His money made him royalty, and his scandal ensured he was recognized nearly everywhere. It meant this was as close to a real date as we could get right now.

I had no choice but to take it. Plus, he’d said this lunch was important, and my heart skipped with the possibilities of what that could mean. Maybe he was going to admit he’d been wrong when he’d said this was just an infatuation.

It wasn’t for me.

He knew my decision before I’d made it and eyed my sandals. “No shoes on deck.”

Once I’d slipped them off, dropped them in the basket, and shuffled across the gangway, my feet were cold against the wood. It was October now, and although it was pleasant in the sun, summer was long gone, and sweater weather had officially begun.

I was introduced to Captain Ridley, who wasn’t much older than I was, but the guy looked like he’d been born at sea with a steering wheel in hand. His white uniform was crisp and his expression stoic, but his handshake was friendly enough.

Was it strange for Macalister when he was aboard? Everyone here was an employee, and he owned the ship, but he wasn’t the one in charge. We stood dutifully as the captain briefed us on safety procedures before Macalister pocketed his sunglasses, led me below deck, and gave me the tour.

The cabin was surprisingly full of light. Windows lined the walls, and several skylights overhead helped to brighten the space and keep it from feeling small. The navigation desk was immediately to my left, and beyond that were the tan leather couches with a table raised and folded out between them.

The galley spanned the entire length of the right side. Was that starboard? I’d never had much interest in sailing. The kitchen was well designed to maximize space and storage. I didn’t realize there was a full gas stovetop until the woman lifted the counter and tucked it back out of her way.

I got the impression Macalister had gone over the menu with Hilde already because as soon as she was done greeting us and finished her setup, the short, compact woman went up to the cockpit to assist Captain Ridley with the castoff.

The engine beneath us rumbled quietly to life.

Macalister showed me the main cabin head and the crew quarters at the back of the ship, and then we moved forward to the master’s quarters. It wasn’t much more than a queen-sized bed. It had a charcoal gray stitched headboard, was surrounded by white oak cabinets, and the windows hugged both sides of the room, which meant we could watch as the nose of the ship headed out for sea.

The room was fucking sexy, and my pulse kicked. “How many women have you seduced in here?”

Desire lurked in his expression. “None. I purchased this vessel the week before I gave Royce his seat on the board.”

It explained why the boat looked so new.

Macalister moved in and grabbed the handhold beside me, trapping me against the wall. His voice was low and hypnotic, matching the purr of his yacht’s engine. “Do you want to be seduced?” His mouth brushed over mine, teasing a kiss. “Would you like me to fuck you in this bed?”

Heat rushed to the center of my legs, and his mouth continued to ghost over my lips, stealing my breath.

“I wonder if you can be quiet,” he mused. “Or if I’ll need to put my hand over your mouth to keep my crew from hearing all the times I make you come.”

“Oh, my God. Let’s find out,” I said eagerly, sliding my hand across the front of his pants.

But he abruptly stepped back from my touch and smiled like the bastard he could be. “Yes, but we’ve barely left port.” He straightened his shoulder and gestured toward the cabin. “We will take lunch first.”

Tags: Nikki Sloane Filthy Rich Americans Billionaire Romance
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