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"Ryder," says a voice laced with honey and mischief. I turn to find a woman, her dress leaving little to imagination and everything to desire.
"Having fun yet?" she purrs, slinking up close enough that I catch the scent of her floral perfume.
"Define 'fun,'" I counter, my gaze looks past her to the room full of people. I'm here, but not really. There's a guitar waiting at home that understands me better than any soul on this boat.
"Fun," she drawls, "is whatever you want it to be."
"Then I guess I'm having a blast," I say, the words tasting like the single malt I had earlier—smooth with an edge of bitterness.
I excuse myself and continue making the rounds of handshakes, nods, and smiles.
The yacht sways gently, and I lean back against the polished railing, my eyes drifting over the crowd. Bodies move in a slow cadence as hands roam with a boldness that's intriguing.
A couple to my left is lost in their own world, her laughter ringing out as his fingers roam just under the hem of her dress in a way that's not quite public consumption yet still on display. It's fascinating, this unabashed flaunting of desire. My pulse quickens, not from arousal, but from the raw honesty of it all.
"Looks like they're having fun," a sultry voice purrs beside me.
I turn, and there she stands—a tall beauty with legs for days and hair that cascades down her back like a raven waterfall. Her eyes are a stormy gray, and they size me up with an intensity that says she's played this game before and never lost.
"Seems so," I reply. "You looking to join them?"
She steps in closer. "Maybe," a corner of her mouth lifts, "but I think I'd rather play with you."
She's sexy, no doubt about it, and there's a hunger in her gaze that could match the wolf inside me. Even as my body responds to the challenge, my mind is elsewhere, seeking a real connection and not just a one-night stand.
"Careful," I warn, half-mocking, half-serious. "I might be more than you can handle."
"Is that right?" she laughs, and her hand brushes against mine. "I like a man who's confident."
"Hmph," I scoff lightly. "Some would say cocky."
"Then let's find out which one you are." Her invitation is clear. Maybe there could be something here. Who am I to deny trying? That’s what I’m here for, after all.
"Ever been to a playroom?" I ask, the corner of my mouth quirking up. The sultry model-like goddess standing before me tilts her head, looking at me.
"Can't say that I have," she purrs, running her fingers down the lapel of my jacket. "Sounds fun, though. Lead the way."
I take her hand and weave us through the lounge of chatter, soft moans of pleasure, and the rhythmic thumping of bass from the speakers above.
"Right this way." Within a minute, I’m guiding her out of the lounge, and we step onto the deck to the ocean breeze. It's refreshing.
We're supposed to go down to the lower level, to find one of those secretive, velvet-draped rooms where fantasies can be played out. However, through the partygoers and along the swaying dock, I spot something—or rather, someone—that seizes my attention and jolts me back to reality.
Waitress Jayden. Her curly fiery red hair is down and fluffed out, her green eyes wide with wonder as she takes in the scene before her. She's closing the distance to the yacht with every graceful, unsure step. She’s dressed in something comfortable, casual, not at all fitting for this party.
"Handsome?" The woman next to me tugs at my arm, but I barely register her voice.
"Sorry, just... give me a second," I murmur, more to myself than to her. Jayden shouldn't be here—hell, she doesn't even know what 'here' truly means. As much as the idea of exploring what the woman beside me and I may have, the protective surge that clenches my gut is unexpected.
"Is everything okay?" she asks, her interest still apparent, but I'm anchored to the spot, my gaze trained on Jayden.
"Fine," I lie, because it's anything but fine. Jayden's sense of innocence has no place on this boat, and I need to be the one to tell her that, even if it means walking away from a sure thing.
"Look, I gotta..." My words trail off as I step away, leaving the sentence unfinished. I'm already moving, propelled by a force I don't want to examine too closely.
"Hey, where are you—" The model's protest sounds in the distance as I push through the mingling bodies, heading for the dock.
Each step towards Jayden ratchets up the tension in my shoulders, the gnawing concern of what brought her here. Why now? Why this party? The protective streak she ignites in me is as infuriating as it is undeniable.
