Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 189782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 759(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 189782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 759(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
But she asked Monty to accept us, and he’s making an effort to do that by teaching us the nuts and bolts of this new world.
“Hey, which one is for the bilge pump?” I scan the board of switches, attempting to test the electrical systems, but I need a diagram. “Monty?”
No response.
Stepping onto the deck, I find him standing on the starboard side, his hands clenched around the taffrail, his attention rapt on the path that leads to the estate. Something akin to eagerness etches his face.
I follow his gaze, squinting.
Then I see her.
Holy fuck.
As Frankie steps onto the path, the world slams to a stop.
A form-fitting sundress clings to the feminine shape of her body, leaving little to the imagination. The deep emerald green fabric complements her striking eyes and pale skin. Red hair falls in loose waves over her shoulders, catching the light and shimmering like fire.
I can’t breathe. All the feeling in my body rushes to my cock as I drink in every detail. She’s so beautiful it hurts. So fulfilling I’ll never be thirsty again.
I’ve seen her in leggings, snow pants, threadbare jeans, designer trousers, skimpy little panties, and gloriously nude, but never in a dress.
She looks ethereal. A goddess come to life. Fucking radiant.
I want to pull her close and tell her how much I love her. I love her inner strength, her intelligence, her compassion. I want to shout it across the Sitka Sound and tattoo it on my skin. She would make fun of me for that, but I love that she calls me out on shit.
I love that she calls me hers.
But right now, it’s her outer beauty that has me mesmerized. Every step she takes toward me is a promise, every glance a challenge. And I’m helplessly sucked in.
Beside her, Kody walks with a possessive hand on her back, his eyes darting between her and her surroundings. He knows exactly the effect she has on everyone, including the security team scattered around the perimeter.
I’ve met all the guards. They’re blank-faced and professional. But they’re also male.
Monty hasn’t taken his damn eyes off her, his expression awestruck.
The flames of jealousy burn in my chest, pushing me forward. I hop off the yacht and meet her on the dock.
“Morning, handsome.” She smiles up at me.
“Morning, love.” I steal a kiss that leaves me wanting more. “You look fucking lush.”
“Thank you.” She rises on tiptoes and whispers in my ear, “I shaved my legs.”
“Why?” I lean back, examining her bare skin beneath the dress. “What’s the purpose?”
She sighs.
Monty clears his throat behind me, causing me to whip my head around.
His lips press together, and his throat jumps beneath the bandage, swallowing whatever he wants to tell her.
Instead, he says, “Shall we?”
We board the yacht, and she veers into the command deck, her hands deftly checking the controls and adjusting settings. Of course, she knows her way around this vessel. It’s hers as much as it’s his.
Because they’re married.
The thought stirs a blizzard of emotions in me. There’s jealousy. Always. But also admiration. She’s too independent to be a passenger princess. She also has her own boat—the faded, rickety little cruiser in the adjacent slip—which she used to go to work every day. I love her even more for keeping that old thing.
“Frankie spent a lot of time on this yacht.” Monty leans in the doorway, the low rumble of his voice hinting at intimacies that make my hackles bristle. “She knows it better than anyone.”
Every surface, wall, couch, and bed.
I hear it in his tone, see it in his hooded eyes.
He not only fucked the only two women I’ve had sex with, but he also impregnated them. Not that I have any possessive feelings about Gretchen. I fucking hated that raping bitch. But my very complicated sexual history connects me to him in deeply disturbing ways that I try not to think about.
These are things I should be discussing with a therapist. Anyone but Dr. Whitaker. My session with him was a wasted hour of questions, which I refused to answer because I was too busy plotting his death with a growl in my throat.
And this was before Kody told me that the doctor put his hands on her.
“It’s been a while.” She looks over the displays and gauges with familiarity. “But I can still operate this fancy lady in my sleep.”
“You want to steer her into the Sound?” Monty asks.
“Nope. I’d rather sit on the sun deck.” She angles her neck, peering out the window. “Not a raindrop in the sky. You picked a great day for a cruise, Monty.”
They share a private smile, and I’m back to wanting to gut him.
As I help Monty release the mooring lines to depart, two security guards board the yacht.
Monty catches my eye. “I’m not taking any chances.”