At five in the afternoon, she headed home to get ready for another night with Andrew. She wasn’t sure what to wear on this boating excursion, given it was January, and cool at night. She settled on a navy and white striped strapless dress. It had a hemline that met her below the knee. She found a red cashmere throw to go over top. Just in case, she brought along a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a light jacket.
Again, Andrew was running late and sent the driver over. She wondered what he was up to—not that she was worried. She was more curious than anything about the type of work he did for Dr. Sansbury while he was in town.
The driver helped her out when they got to the ramp closest to Andrew’s boat. He was waiting for her on the wooden pier walkway, and walked down to meet her. He looked scrumptious in his khaki slacks, a white cotton blend shirt, and a navy sweater, with the sleeves wrapped loosely around his shoulders. He looked perfectly bourgeoisie; except he was Andrew, with that warmth in his eyes and smile.
“How was your day?” he greeted her, kissing her warmly on the cheek. God, he could make the electricity flow through her from his touch.
“Great. Yours?”
“Awesome,” he answered, taking her hand to lead her to the boat. “You look fantastic.”
“All thanks to your people.”
“Glad to hear. All set?”
“Very. And excited for this cruise, too.”
“Good. The food is ready.”
He pointed out a sleek cream yacht. He really should have called it a ship—it was massive. Once she got on, two men undid the moorings and came aboard.
“So you must have a crew for this…this…is this a yacht? It seems much bigger.”
“Yes it is. I’ve not much larger than the usual. And yes, there’s a crew and small kitchen staff for dinner. Ready to eat?”
“Yes, I’m starved. Lead the way.”
***
The yacht-ship they were on was stunning, but nothing could have prepared her for the sights and sounds—and tastes—of their night cruise. Once they left the harbor, she could barely breathe. The vistas, lights and water-view of San Francisco’s landmarks took her breath away. The food was absolutely divine, but even then, as they passed beneath the San Francisco Bridge, she put her fork down and almost ran to the bow to look up at it.
Andrew came to her side and held her around her waist.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I’ve been missing out on lots.”
“How so?”
“This is my sixth year living in this city, and I’ve never seen it from this…perspective.”
He rubbed her arm and pulled her close. “You’re shivering. We should go back inside.”
She hung on to his arm and went in with him. “I’d love to come again during the day, if we can.”
“Of course,” he answered. “Anything you want.”
“Careful, sailor,” she cautioned. “Those words can be dangerous to a man’s health.”
“Oh?” he smiled down at her as they got back to the dining table. “How so?”
She looked around, and then back up to him. “I can show you, but this part of the ship, the deck is it?” He nodded so she went on, eyebrows raised. “The deck is a little too…public. Can we go inside? Or downstairs?”
“Yes, there’s a cabin down below. Why? Getting a little frisky, are we?”
“With you around, all I am is frisky these days. Come on. Let’s go,” she said, widening her smile. “I’ll show you danger.”
They got down to the private cabin. Abby pulled him inside to the bed. She sat on the edge and wasted no time in reaching for his belt buckle. Slipping the strip of leather from his pants, she spun it about, humming seductively as she went, and flung it across the room. She heard it hit the wall and cringed a bit, then smiled.
“Oops. Sorry.”
If it left a scratch or hole, she would feel so dumb. The room was spacious. Abby could feel the gentle rocking of the yacht as it moved over the waves.
“So tell me, what’s dangerous about this?” he asked, sliding his hands gently over her hair while she pulled his slacks to the ground. As always, his touch set her on fire.
“Nothing really.” She looked up at him and licked her lips slowly. “It sounded good when I said it. You know what?”
“What?”
“Sit here,” she instructed, patting the spot on the bed beside her.
“I want to tell you something.”
“What’s that?”
She paused before she spoke. She had not intended to share anything—it was a moment of clarity. “I never dreamed of anything like this.”
“What do you mean? Cruising on the yacht?”
“Yes. No. Yes and no.”
“You’re confusing me, Abby.”
She shifted and turned to him. “I mean yes, the yacht, and dinner last night, and being with you. And enjoying our time together. A week ago, I didn’t know you. A week ago, I had not even wished for anything quite this—intense, and amazing, and beautiful, you know?” She paused as she felt her eyes welling up with tears. She was grateful he didn’t react to them, but waited for her to continue. “I want to tell you thank you, Andrew. I’ve never felt so alive.”
He reached both arms around her and gave her a warm, long embrace. “You don’t have to thank me. I should be thanking you. For that screeching whistle on the night of the blizzard. It was what helped me find you. And you’re right, it’s not been a week. But it’s been the best few days I’ve ever had. You couldn’t know how wonderful this time has been for me too. There’s no gift I could give you, no yacht, no meal, no clothes that I could buy you that would adequately show you the difference you’ve made in my life. Thank you, Abby.”
They sat silently and held each other for a few minutes, basking in the moment.
***
ANDREW thought he had had a winning idea when he pulled Abby into the suite’s shower stall, but now that she followed him there, he reconsidered. In hindsight, the tub in the next suite would have been a better option for what he planned. This stall barely had enough room for one—let alone two full-grown adults. And since one of them was him, a strapping over-six-foot hulk, there was even less room. Abby was facing the showerhead, her eyes shut tight, and sighing in the hot stream of water as it cascaded down her face and over her breasts.
He envied her. In the back of the shower where he stood, it was chilly. And he was naked. He also envied the water. To caress those perfect, perky, just large enough, but not too large breasts of hers, were a pleasure he was quickly realizing he could allow no one else the pleasure of. Ever. It didn’t matter they had only been together for days. Already, he was looking forward to many, many more such interactions. Everywhere and anywhere.
He covered her eyes, though unnecessary, with his large hands, stepping close into her backside. The small of her back cradled his erection. Good, God, she was a delicacy.
“Hey,” she purred, shimmying against his shaft, making him harder, although he hadn’t been sure that was possible. She moved to turn around. He stopped her. She twisted her neck and lifted a brow in question. “No kiss?”
“Not yet.”
Reaching for the loofa hanging from the faucet, he grabbed the container of body wash and plopped a sizable dollop of soap on the body sponge. He wet the loofa and soap under the spray, and began on her stomach. She leaned back into him, her shoulders on his chest. She sighed, and he could swear her whole body melted into him.
“You know, Andrew. I can bathe myself.” Her words were slurred. Had he not been positive all she had drunk with dinner was one glass of white wine, he would have thought she’d had a few beers. She must be love-drunk on me, he fantasized, liking the idea. Drunk on pleasure.
“Oh, I know. But you can’t tell me this isn’t more fun.”
“Fun…” she said as she shimmied her hips again, rubbing her smooth and damp skin over his silky steel. “I like fun.”
“And
I like you that way,” he whispered in her ear, leaning close enough to lick her lobes and make her moan.
He used the loofa to massage and knead her breasts, making sure to avoid her nipples. He then moved down to stroke the soaped, rough sponge over her thighs and between her legs, not once touching her pussy. She was huffing; frustrated by the time he leaned back. He began again on her backside, spending an inordinate amount of time on the globes of her ass.
Falling carefully to his knees in the tiny space, he stroked down and around her knees, calves, ankles, and after a quick warning, under the soles of her feet. Then, and only then, he let her turn around. He was face to face with her mound. He needed her more than he could admit. He slid his palms between her legs and opened her thighs. She gripped the top of the stall and hung on.
The sweet scent of her scrubbed and soaped body filled his nostrils and made Andrew crave vanilla in a completely unhealthy way. He nuzzled her clit with his nose. He palmed her ass and shifted her closer, lapping at her folds, tasting her nectar.
“Andrew, please…”
My name. Her lips. Perfection.
He tilted her pelvis; she responded by raising one foot to balance on the small raised entry of the stall. She was spread wide for him. She wanted him as much as he needed her. He kissed her mound, and then her lips. He opened her with his tongue, stroking along the side, feeding from her.
Pulling back, he breathed warm air across her skin. She groaned and he did it a second time. He rubbed his lips across her labia, increasing the intoxicating friction. He tickled the back of one knee, and then her clit. He had her shaking with desire. She flexed, and her wetness coated his chin. She was sweet and salty. She was goodness and light and…maybe love? He wasn’t sure, but knew it was close; definitely more than lust alone.
Her clit was swollen, hard, beckoning. He moved to kiss her there, replacing his mouth on her pussy with his fingers. Sinking two fingers inside her, he penetrated her and returned his lips to suck her clit, flicking it with his tongue. He nibbled on her flesh as she writhed above him.
She screamed as she came.
He didn’t stop. He teased her anew. He didn’t give up, wouldn’t give up. He had much more in store for her. This was only the beginning.
Her body tremored through her orgasm. After a few minutes, she peeked down at him, grinning. A lazy, sexy-as-sin, grin.
He grinned back. “That’s number one.”
“Number one?”
“Yes.” He smiled. “I have at least a few more planned before I take you.”
Her eyes rolled back and she flushed pink from her toes to her head. He took that as agreement. Great, she was on board.
***
ANDREW cleared the ship’s crew and the cooking staff from the deck before leading Abby upstairs. It was cool on the water at night, so they wore robes, and he brought up a few extra blankets. The straps of vinyl creaked when he sat on a lounge chair. He invited her to relax beside him in his chair, and she did. She nestled in close beside him and he wrapped his arm around her. She stretched up and planted a sweet kiss on his cheek, then slouched back down and looked up at the sky.
All around them, the night sky was darkened. The stars above twinkled into existence one by one. She pointed them out with child-like excitement as they appeared. Andrew was fairly sure she made up some of the names, but he didn’t care. It was sweet.
“Do you hear that?” she asked, picking up her head and glancing behind them.
“No. What is it?”
“I’m not sure.”
“It’s just us.”
She didn’t look away or smile. He touched her cheek. She flicked her eyes in his direction, then back at the enclosure.
“Abby, what is it?” His tone serious, all of a sudden.
“It sounded like a click, then a laugh.”
He frowned. That didn’t make sense. His staff were professionals. They would never risk their jobs by spying.
“You heard someone laughing?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh.” he relaxed. “Nothing to worry about.” he knew what she’d heard. There were two boats close to starboard. Not close enough to collide, but sounds carried over the surface of the water.
“What is it?”
“Just wait a minute,” he instructed, training his own ears in that direction. When distant howls and laughs met his ear, he I nodded. “It’s other boaters.”
She had heard the same noise. “And they sound like they’re partying.”
She settled back down. Smiling, she kissed the tender skin where his neck and shoulder met.
“We can leave. Go somewhere else? I don’t want you disturbed.”
Abby pulled his arm closer and hugged it. “I’m not. You big…” she playfully nibbled a little on his throat, “strong…” she licked a path up the side of his neck to my ear, “irresistible…” she sucked his earlobe within her mouth, “hero.” She bit down and Andrew jumped.
“And you are saucy.” He kissed her cheek, and laced his fingers into hers.
“Absolutely,” she smirked back.
They lapsed into silence. The sounds of the neighboring boats disintegrated into almost inaudible chuckles and husky giggles.
Abby’s breathing became shallow.
“Did you enjoy tonight, Abby?”
“Yes. Very much, and I still am.”
“Good.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
She yawned and covered her mouth beside him.
“Tired?”
“A little.”
“Rest if you’re tired. We can go in if you’d like. We’ll be back at port in about thirty minutes.”
He covered her up with the blankets. Her breathing became more shallow still. He was almost sure she had fallen asleep.
Chapter Ten
ANDREW and Abby settled into the private jet after it took off in the early afternoon. They were on their way back to Lake Tahoe. The pilot came over the speaker and announced they could remove their seatbelts and move around the cabin if they desired. Andrew glanced across the aisle at Abby. She was giggling, a hand pressed to her stomach.
“I love flying!”
“Good. Then we’ll take many more trips.” He stood. Walking over to the bar lining one side of the jet, he stepped behind the counter and pulled out two glasses.
“Feel like a glass of wine?”
“Sure. Thank you.”
He ducked beneath the marble-top, and flipped through the wine list. “Would you like to try a vintage from one of my dad’s wineries?”
“Your dad runs a winery too? And yes. I’d love to try it.”
“Great.” He reached down and picked up the bottle. “My dad loves starting new ventures. And he enjoys wine. None of us were surprised when he came home one night and said he had found the perfect vineyard for sale in Santa Rita Hills. I still remember my mom rolling her eyes. It’s not that she didn’t support him. She felt he was already spread too thin with other commitments, and she knew how he poured himself into his startups at the beginning.
“Interesting. And very cool that your father works the businesses at the beginning.”
“He wouldn’t have it any other way.” He poured two glasses and took them over to her. “He’d be the first to roll up his sleeves for every one of his companies. I think he enjoyed that early period the most. But this wine idea, it was probably the hardest of them all.”
“How so?”
He sat in the chair beside her and took a sip. “The purchase was complex to begin with. It took months to close. I think it was some type of tax lien sale or a foreclosure. By the time it closed, the place had been sitting idle for almost two years. Your dad owns a farm, right?”
“Yes.”
“How large is it?”
“Two hundred acres.”
“Well imagine double that, in rows and rows of abandoned vines, broken supports, rusted out machinery in utter disrepair, and weeds as tall and thick a
s full grown corn stalks.”
“Wow.”
“The only redeeming quality of the place was the fermentation vats and the bottling room. They were pristine. Everything else was an overgrown, broken down mess. And my dad decides all four of us will work on it as a summer project.”
“What?”
“Yes.”
“Just the four of you?”
“The first week, yes. And some winery owner from France that he hired to show us the business. He realized the scale of what we had to deal with when after a week of toiling, the guy he hired threatened to quit. Told him he was crazy. My dad knew by the end of the week that the Frenchman was right. We had only managed to clear about half an acre in that time.
“After working from dawn to dusk for fourteen days and seeing the minute progress we had made, he hired fifty farm workers and bought all new equipment. Everything moved smoothly then, and by the end of the summer, the place was ready to go. He took a more hands-off approach at that point, and kept the French guy for two years until the place was operating smoothly. It’s been a profitable operation since. More wine?”
“Yes. Please. That’s fascinating, Andrew. I’m sure all that hard work paid off for you too.”
“I can’t complain. Looking back, I’m glad we weren’t coddled. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be the fine, strapping man you see now,” he said with a wink.
He returned to the bar to refill their glasses.
As he placed the bottle on the counter, he noticed Abby had also left her seat. She was nowhere in the cabin. He then saw the light above the bathroom door was red. Occupied. He smiled.
After pouring more wine into the glasses, he recorked the bottle. He set it to the side, on an intelligently designed rubber-footed rack—no need for predicting the up and downs of flight. He lifted his glass and swirled the wine as he had done so many times, before sipping a bit of the dark red liquid.
“Great choice, Dad,” he said softly. The vintage was perfect. His father had fine taste. He took another sip. He moved both glasses to the low-lying table. It was set between the two leather chairs on the other side of the plane—his ‘living area.’ They were far more comfortable than the airline-regulated seating for take-offs and landings.
Cabin Glow: A New Adult and College Romance (The Billionaire Romance Redemption Series Book 3) Page 6