Avery sank her teeth into her bottom lip but remained silent.
“I haven’t thought about what happens when I leave this boat,” I said. “But I know that I can’t ever imagine not wanting you in my life. I’m a resourceful guy and you’re a born problem solver. We’ll figure this out.”
She bowed her head. Had I lost her?
I stepped forward so I was just inches away from her “You want to walk away from this?” I asked. “I’ll hate it, but I’ll never touch you again if you ask me not to.”
I glanced up to see unshed tears in her eyes. “I don’t want to but I’m afraid. Hearing you . . . I feel all that. And more. But you can’t screw up my redemption.”
Her words spread hot and sharp through me. Yachting was more than a career for her. This job was more than just a way of paying for her brother’s medical bills. This was about sacrifice and atonement—her assumed guilt for Michael’s accident. I should walk away, push her away. But I was rooted to the spot, as if gravity had misfired and I’d be pulled to wherever she was. “I won’t screw it up,” I whispered and placed a kiss on her collarbone. She didn’t need redeeming. She was the only one who thought she did. “Believe in me. Believe in us.”
Her knees buckled a little and her hands slid over my shoulders. Jesus, just this woman’s hands on my shirt-covered skin was enough to bring me to the edge.
“This room is Taormina, right?” I whispered. “In here, we’re Hayden and Avery. Just like yesterday. Through that door . . .” I tipped my head in the direction of the exit. “Out there, I’ll be the guest and you can be the stewardess. I promise I’ll not put you in danger of discovery again.”
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. She was almost at the point of saying yes, I just had to sweep my hand up the back of her thigh or press my hardening cock against her hip and she’d relent. But I needed more than that. She had to want this.
“I feel it,” she whispered. “And I don’t know if I’m more afraid of walking away or of the consequences of staying. I think either will hurt me.”
I blinked. I wanted to swallow up any hurt she’d ever felt. Any pain she’d ever have.
“My dad wanted me to do something just for me. To focus more on myself. The problem is the only thing I want for me is you. I want this for me.” She reached up, searching my face, tracing her fingers over my cheek. “Taormina,” she whispered.
“Taormina,” I whispered back before I pressed my lips to hers, lazily pushing my tongue through her lips to meet hers and I was home, where I belonged. Her hands curled around the back of my neck and I sighed in relief.
Reaching down, I bunched up her skirt, pulling up the cotton until my fingertips reached her skin. I yanked the skirt up to her waist, leaning back to see the black lace covering her, then pushing the material to the side to examine her pussy. It was pink and perfect and needed to come. She needed to stop thinking and overthinking. Analyzing and overanalyzing. She needed to be reminded of how her body responded to me, how good we were together. I slid two fingers through her folds, gauging her wetness, and I got a sense of smug satisfaction that despite the obvious conflict she had about us, she was still wet for me. As much as her mind tried to resist, her body told me everything I needed to know. I spread my fingers, wanting to feel as much of her as I could as I pushed my tongue back in her mouth to dull her little moans.
I pressed my fingers into her and circled my thumb over her clit. She gasped and pulled back, her hand tightening around my neck, her thumb tracing the pulse hammering under my skin. The sticky, sweet feel of her goaded my cock until it was begging for more.
I pressed my hand against the base of her chest and pinned her against the wall as I circled her clit. I pulled my fingers out, circled, then pushed them back in. I wanted to watch as she came, wanted to see on her face what I could do—how no man had ever made her come as quickly or as hard. She squirmed under my touch and her hand snapped to my wrist but didn’t seek to remove it. Instead she spread her fingers as if she was trying to communicate with me.
“Hayden,” she whispered. “I want you to fuck me.”
I nodded, not letting my fingers still for a second. I was still pushing and pulling, circling and pressing. “I know. And I will. But you need to come. Just to take the edge off. Just as a warm up. I need you relaxed when I shove my cock inside you.”