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“Ah. I think I remember when that happened.” His hands tighten around my waist, humor lacing his expression. “That was when you were showing me?—”
I stomp on his toes to stop him from saying whatever terrible thing he was about to say. He grunts, but it sounds a little like a laugh.
“Are you going to introduce me to your friends?” I say, walking my fingers up his chest and across his collarbone.
“Of course,” Ben says smoothly.
We turn so we’re standing side by side, facing them, his arm around my waist and mine around his. It feels so blatant—like if we were in high school, we’d have our hands slipped into each other’s back pockets while all our friends rolled their eyes behind our backs.
It also feels strangelyright.Like this is the most logical place in the world for me to be—plastered against Ben’s side with his hand warm on my bare skin. The feeling is totallyillogical, seeing as how I’m in the middle of the Atlantic, on a yacht with a man I didn’t even think I liked a week ago.
“This is Jasmine, Ana, and Riley,” Ben says, pointing to each woman in turn.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, hoping it sounds like I mean it and not like I’d really love to put them back on their broken-down yacht and leave them for the Coast Guard.
Or the sharks.
“And this is mygirlfriend,Sadie Markham,” Ben says, making my breath catch.
I know this isn’t the first time he’s called me his girlfriend, but it’s the first time I’ve heard him make the claim. And it has more of an impact than I want to admit. Even to myself. Mostly, it fills me with a sort of peaceful confidence. Like he’s just given me permission to settle into my own skin and forget about comparing myself to any of these women, perfect thoughthey may appear. I know I don’t need his approval to be happy with myself. But the validation still feels good. Benedict King is choosingme.
I force my gaze toward the three women—I cannot keep staring into Ben’s eyes without kissing him again—and try my hardest to give each of them a warm and sincere smile. I’m not a mean girl. I can’t blame these women for being hot and wealthy or famous and, in two out of three, fascinated with Ben. Even if I only relate to the last one—despite my best efforts.
In return, I get two fake smiles and one that actually looks genuine. The latter is from Riley—the redhead who wasn’t trying to hit on Ben.
Not surprising. But so long as Jasmine and Ana respect the boundary Ben just created with the wordgirlfriend, they can lounge by the pool in their tiny bikinis all they want. We don’t have to be friends, but we can coexist on this yacht until we dump them back on land or whatever the plan is. Except … I’m not actually sure what the planis.
Ana of single-name fame is the first one to respond. “Wow. Someone actually managed to lock you down.” She shakes her head. “That’s hard to believe.”
My grip on Ben’s waist tightens, even as my uncertainty grows. Isn’t this why Ididn’twant to consider a relationship with Ben in the first place? I don’t want to think about him having hundreds of relationships, casual or otherwise, with other women. I especially don’t want to think about him withtheseparticular women.
Was he actually everwithAna or Jasmine in a romantic sense?
Forget the bravado that made me kiss Ben moments ago. If my imagination starts playing out scenarios, I’m liable to scurry back to my stateroom and hide for the rest of the day. Or longer. Maybe I can hang out with the pelican on the balcony.
Ben saves me from my thought spiral when he leans down and presses a soft, lingering kiss against my temple. One I feel all the way down to my pinky toes.
“I’m smart enough to recognize something real when I find it,” he says, his gaze warm and genuine as he looks me over. “And to hold onto it with everything I’ve got.”
His voice is low, and I get the sense he said those last words just for me.
“I’m really happy for you guys,” Riley says. “It seems like you make a really great couple.”
I like Riley. Riley respects boundaries. Riley doesn’t call BenBenjy.Riley can stay on the boat.
Jasmine, on the other hand, doesn’t even try to hide her sneer. “Sally, was it?” she says. “How is it that you came to meet Ben? I’ve never heard of you before.”
I understand this to mean:you clearly aren’t in my society circles, so how did you snag a billionaire?
So … not mean girls, but meanwomen. Fabulous.
“It’sSadie,” I correct, holding Jasmine’s gaze until she flinches and looks away. “And yeah, I don’t think our paths would cross. I stay pretty busy with my work.”
“What kind of work do you do?” Riley asks. I can tell she’s trying to steer the conversation and keep things positive, and I appreciate the effort, but I’m not sure it’s doing much good.
“I work in tech,” I say, sticking to the vague answer I always give, even if, right now, I’m tempted to toss around my credentials. Though I doubt Jasmine would be impressed even if I did.
Ben’s fingers lightly squeeze my waist. “Sadie has a PhD in applied and computational mathematics,” he says. “From MIT.”
