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I stand and hold out my hand. “Hey. Come with me? I want to show you something.”
Sadie stifles a yawn. “Right now? Really? Isn’t it the middle of the night?”
“Technically, but you slept all day, and your grabby little hands wouldn’t let me get out of the bed, so I did too.” I shake my hand. “Come on. Just trust me. I think this might make you feel better.”
She purses her lips. “I didnothave grabby hands,” she says, but she stands and slips her fingers into mine as she says it.
I take a risk and entwine our fingers, giving her hand a playful squeeze as I tug her out of the galley. “Youdefinitelyhad grabby hands.”
“I wasill,Benedict. If I needed head massages and the warmth of your furnace-like body, it didn’t have anything to do with you, specifically.”
I smirk at her over my shoulder. “Furnace, huh? So, you think I’m hot?”
“Temperature-wise,” Sadie says.
“Sure,” I say easily. “I’ll bet that’s what you meant. Only that.”
She gives an exasperated laugh but doesn’t pull away. We take the hallway out of the galley and step out onto the deck. The salty breeze is cool, not quite cold, and the stars are gleaming in the inky night sky. The deck skirts around the front of the yacht, and we walk hand in hand until we reach a narrowstairwell that leads up to the wheelhouse. We’re anchored for the night, so I doubt we’ll find Art at the helm, but I’m used to handling his grumpy demeanor if we do.
I tug Sadie up the stairs, tossing a glance over my shoulder. “It’s good that it wasn’t about me specifically, because I had John swap in for me whenever I got really tired.”
Sadie stops, jerking my hand as she does. I don’t let go.
“You did not.”
I smirk. “You don’t remember?”
I actuallydowonder how much she remembers. If she knows how easily her body curled into mine, or how many times she ran her palms across my chest or slid them over my shoulders and down to my biceps, her fingers lingering on the curve of the muscle.
Her eyes flash, and she licks her lips, and I get the sense that shedoesremember. Even if she won’t admit it. Or doesn’t want to.
“Pretty sure I would rememberJohn,” she says.
I tug her up the last of the stairs, her hand still cocooned in mine. I can’t help but notice that our hands fit the same way our bodies do. Perfectly.
The landing outside the wheelhouse door isn’t particularly spacious, so she’s standing close to me, her body near enough for me to feel the warmth of her radiating off her skin.
She tilts her head up, looking at me almost shyly. “Did you actually trade out with John?”
I lean closer. Just a little. I’m still nervous about scaring her off. “No one saw you wearing my clothes but me, Sadie,” I say, voice low. “No one put hands on you but me.”
And if I have my way, no one else ever will.
It could be wishful thinking, but as Sadie stares up at my face, it almost looks like she’s looking at my lips. Like her eyesare darkening. Like she’s thinking the same kinds of thoughts I am.
The idea sends a bolt of longing coursing through my veins. I could kiss her. Right here, with her hand in mine, her body close enough that it would only take one tiny tug to press her against me.
But I won’t do it. Not yet. Not until I know she really wants it. And not just because there’s an attraction here, not while she’s feeling vulnerable.
She probably thinks I’m the kind of man who would kiss her just because I can. Just because she’s here.
Sadly, I’ve kissed enough women for that exact reason that Sadie is justified in thinking so. But I won’t do it with her. When I kiss Sadie, it will be because it means something.
For both of us.
I reach behind me and open the door to the wheelhouse, stepping inside and taking a deep, steadying breath as I finally let go of her hand.
“Where are we?” she asks, following me inside.
