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The shirt is warm and it smells like him. It hangs down to right above my mid-thigh. “Thank you.”
“Are you okay?” he murmurs against my skin.
I turn back to face him. “Yes.” I know I risk ruining the moment but I have to ask him again. “Is there anything going on between you and Natalie because I don’t want to be the cau—”
“No,” he says firmly. “I have no feelings for her, never have. We are not a couple nor together.” His eyes search mine, probably trying to gauge if I believe him.
I change the subject. “Is this the part when you apologize for being too rough earlier and telling me you crossed a line you shouldn’t have because you feel pity for me now that you know about my fiancé?”
“No,” he says quickly, reaching up to brush my hair over my shoulder. “Not unless you want me to lie to you?” I shake my head no. “Good, because I’m not sorry. I know I was rough but you enjoyed it. I probably should have asked if it was okay to speak to you in that manner, but I could see it in your eyes—you liked being at my mercy, didn’t you?” His eyes dart back and forth like he’s trying to read my mind.
“Yes.”
“Good, because all I’ve thought about tonight is how fucking sexy it was to know you were sitting there beside me so politely with a belly full of my cum.” He leans in, his hand coming to rest against the side of my neck as his long fingers wrap delicately around it. “The only thing that would have made it better was if your pussy was dripping with me too.”
My knees wobble and I’m half tempted to beg him to take me right now. I want him to. I want to be completely at his mercy with every inch of my body, but he steps back.
“Good night, Miss Flowers.”
“Hey,” I say before I can stop myself. He stops in my doorway and turns around. “Why did you put me in a room at the other end of the boat from everyone else?”
He smiles for a second, but then it vanishes. It’s almost devious the way he looks me up and down like he’s ready to pounce. My stomach drops as his eyes grow dark.
“So that I can fuck you for as long and hard as I want and nobody can hear you scream.”
12
WESTON
“That young lady has her entire life ahead of her.”
My mother’s voice draws my attention as I walk back toward my room, instantly causing the smile on my face to disappear. She’s sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, sipping a glass of wine.
“I’m not sure what you’re insinuating, Mother, but I’m well aware of that.”
“You know what I’m insinuating. I see the way you look at her, the same way your father used to look at anything with tits and two legs.”
“Don’t ever compare me to him again,” I mutter, taking a seat across from her.
“I know you’re nothing like him, but I can also see a poor decision brewing. I’ve known you your entire life, son, and for as much as you want to think you can lie to me, I’m still your mother.”
I sit silently, tapping my fingers on the armrest of the chair. “It’s not like that.”
“I know, Weston, that’s what concerns me.” I give her a questioning look. “Ever since Mira died, you haven’t kept a single woman in your life for more than a few months. Now you bring one along on a family vacation and let her get close to your daughter?”
“She’s her teacher and Daisy enjoys having her around; it’s for her benefit. I didn’t bring her home to meet the family. She’s being paid.”
“That doesn’t make it better when you come walking from her room shirtless. It makes it icky.”
I feel anger burn in my chest at my mother’s suggestion that somehow I’m paying her for her company or sex. She means more to me than that. I’m about to say as much when I stop myself.
This is the first time I’ve felt anything for a woman since Mirabelle.
“We’re done here. Good night, Mother.” I stand and walk back to my room, shutting my door harder than necessary. I crawl into bed, hoping to fall asleep, but my brain is racing. I feel guilty for feeling something for Daphne, fear for acknowledging it for the first time. I also feel guilty for how I treated her earlier, the things I said. In the moment I didn’t; she made me feel like my desires weren’t wrong or devious. Even earlier, when I told her I didn’t feel bad, I meant it, but after what my mother just said, it does make me feel like I fucked up.
I shouldn’t want to treat the woman I care about that way. I shouldn’t want to use her. I shouldn’t get off thinking about having her at my mercy while I fuck her. Then again, I shouldn’t care about Daphne Flowers at all.
I rationalize a list of reasons in my head why I’m feeling anything at all. Stress with this deal I’m working, seeing Daisy connect with a woman so well and seeing her happy, guilt for not having a woman in her life permanently, and so on. Maybe that’s what all of this really is—guilt. I feel guilty for how I treated Daphne in the past and my way of making it up to her is to make her feel desired and wanted. I flip my pillow over, hoping the coolness of it will help me relax, but it’s hopeless. I’m plagued with sleeplessness. I get up and walk over to my private balcony to sit in the balmy air.
