Without authority, my hand swooped up, so damn close to cupping her breast and pinching her nipple.
Fuck.
Taking a step back, I growled. “You can’t be naked around me anymore.”
Her eyes narrowed as if daring me to either touch her or yell at her.
I did neither.
Backing farther away, I commanded, “Dress and meet me in the dining room. We’re having breakfast together. And then, we’re going to work.”
BREAKFAST CONSISTED OF freshly baked croissants, home-made jams, and every exotic fruit imaginable. A small serving of scrambled eggs with hollandaise sauce was our main affair, and by the time we pushed aside plates in favour of steaming coffee mugs, a comfortable silence wrapped us in a bubble no one else could enter.
Not the staff to-ing and fro-ing with dishes. Not the captain when he came in to give the brief on the night cruising and the plan of today’s journey.
Elder might look at other people, he might smile and speak to them, but his entire focus remained on me. I sensed him watching, felt him calculating.
The kiss between us lived on my lips, tickling me every time I took a sip of coffee or brought a fork to my mouth. His music corrupted my mind, strumming at odd times, robust in my memory. Whenever I recalled his cello-eloquence, I wanted to silence every note—to ignore he wasn’t as gifted as he was; pretend he could delete melody from his life because after that kiss…wow.
That damn kiss proved how naïve I’d been even when I believed I was wise.
I didn’t want him to love music because it was my enemy. I wanted him to hate the things I hated. To loath the things I loathed.
I was selfish.
I didn’t want to have to face my idiocy or for him to take it upon himself to break me by showing me music wasn’t a sentinel being but purely soulful.
He didn’t play fair, and his talent spawned so many reactions—emotional, physical, psychological. I never wanted to hear his cello again but at the same time…that was a lie.
I’d been pushed to the brink and managed to stay clinging to the cliff—the next time he played, I might fall.
I didn’t want to fall.
I want to fly.
With him.
The liquid in my belly, the hummingbird in my heart—it all equalled one thing.
I like him.
I liked his company, his protection, his friendship. With him, I didn’t feel the urge to write every moment to No One. I didn’t have the need to curl around my secrets and keep them close.
Elder knew who I was. He’d seen where I’d come from, he’d mingled with the men I’d belonged to. He knew more about me than I would ever tell another stranger, and because of that, there was nowhere to hide, no room to lie—not when we’d met in bitter truth.
But that bitterness is slowly evolving into sweetness….
I was glad when the food was cleared away because I needed fresh air. Needed to be further away from him than sharing a table.
But when he stood and held out his hand, as if expecting me to take it, nerves coiled and rattled in my belly. Despite my willingness to accept my feelings toward him, I wasn’t ready for more.
If he wanted to use me, he could. But I couldn’t allow myself to like him if he did.
Giving him a hesitant look, I didn’t take his hand, but I did follow as he guided me from the dining room through the stately lounge, complete with a piano locked in place. We passed the open-air bar with a Jacuzzi tub set in the polished wooden deck, right to the bow of the boat where a black sail had been strung across the space like a triangle cloud, blocking out the intensity of the sun.
The heat of the day didn’t disperse, and the grey dress I’d slinked into did its best to cling to my skin as sweat beaded on my spine.
Elder didn’t criticise my wariness or bark commands to come closer. His black gaze pooled with kindness, unable to fully hide the glitter of desire.
My tummy flipped, remembering when he’d come to my door. The way his eyes locked on my nakedness and his body tensed as tight as his cello strings. His raw need ought to have sent me running. Instead, it did weird things to my insides.
Part of me had wanted to slam the door in his face because I knew that look. That look meant having a man inside me against my will. That look meant being used at their leisure and mercy.
However, when Elder looked at me that way…I liked it.
He didn’t strip me of power. He made me gather more of it. He became weaker the more desire drenched his blood, while I became stronger, having control to deliver what he wanted or deny it.