by Ella Miles
Our hands interlink as we follow Bayron down the beach, still not saying a word to each other, but not needing to. We know that we want each other. In a bed. Right now.
We round the edge of the property and see a large yacht sitting at the end of the pier.
“Your date awaits,” Bayron says, pointing toward the boat.
My mouth drops open. I know how much a yacht like that costs. There is no way that this is our gift from the resort. Even if we only go out for an hour, it would cost them more than both of our rooms for the entire week, combined.
“You’re kidding, right?” I ask.
Bayron smiles. “Only the best for Miss Skye.”
He starts walking down the long wooden peer. The yacht gets larger and larger with each step we take.
“He’s joking, right? If this is really our gift, you know they are going to expect us to pay them back somehow,” I lean over and say to Skye.
She shrugs. “Let’s just get the romance over with, so we can move on to the fun part.” She winks.
I squeeze her hand tighter. “Done.”
We keep walking toward the yacht, and the boy part of me that still gets excited about shiny things with fast motors and expensive boats gets me far too giddy as we stop in front of it. I’ve never been on a yacht before, and all I want to do is go explore every inch of it. Talk to the captain about how it works, how expensive it is, and how fast it can go.
But then I look over at Skye, and I forget about the damn yacht. We could be riding a bus for all I care as long as I get to hold her again. Kiss her. Fuck her. Nothing else matters. Not even figuring out the crazy reason we are getting to ride in this yacht instead of just getting a romantic dinner on the beach, like every other couple who stays at this resort.
Bayron holds his hand out to Skye. She lets go of my hand and takes his as he helps her into the yacht.
I grind my teeth to keep from chewing Bayron out for taking Skye from me for a single second. I really need to get my anger in check. Bayron is just doing his job. He’s not hitting on Skye. And it’s clear Skye is only interested in me. But I can’t. I’ve never felt such claim over a woman before, especially one that I’ve only ever kissed.
I climb up onto the yacht behind Skye.
“Have a good date. If you need anything, just ask one of the wait staff on board or the captain.”
I turn back to look at Bayron. “How long are we going to be on the yacht?” I’m starting to think that he’s going to trap me on this boat so that I can’t escape and am forced to be romantic with Skye.
He smiles. “Are you well taken care of, Miss Skye?”
She gives me a sideways glance with a sparkle in her eyes before she takes my hand again. “I think I’m in very good hands.”
“How long?” I ask again, not about to be trapped on this yacht for my entire vacation.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Brody; there are beds on the yacht,” he says with a wink.
The yacht starts moving gently away from the pier. I could jump back onto the pier. But I don’t think I could get Skye to come with me. I hate not having control. I hate not knowing where we are going or when we are coming back. But, until this yacht turns around, I’m going to have to find a way to let all of that go.
“Come on,” Skye says, pulling me toward the front of the yacht as we head out into the ocean, toward the sun that is just beginning to set.
We stop at the railing at the front of the boat, still gripping on to each other’s hands while resting them on the railing. We stand in silence just staring at the ocean.
“I’m sorry,” Skye says as she looks out at the ocean.
“Why are you sorry?”
“For Bayron. He means well, but sometimes, he takes things too far. You never agreed to being kidnapped on a boat with me.”
My eyes widen a little at just how on the nose she is about my feelings. But, as soon as she says it out loud, I realize how absolutely ridiculous my feelings are.
I stroke her cheek. “Don’t be sorry. For any of it. There are worse ways I could be spending my time than trapped on a boat with a beautiful woman like you.”
She blushes a little. “Let’s try to survive for a couple of hours, and then we can have them turn it around.”
I arch an eyebrow. “You can have them turn the yacht around at any time, and they’ll listen to you?”
Skye turns toward me with an amused smile. “You really thought they were kidnapping us and holding us hostage until we had the romantic date that they wanted, didn’t you?”
I shrug. “Bayron came to my room, forced me to wear this outfit, and then escorted me down to the beach where he told me to stay. Then, he forced me onto a boat, and I have no idea how long I will be on it. Seems like kidnapping to me.”
She places her hand on my chest, running it over the smooth fabric, feeling the muscles that ripple beneath her hand. “You’re right. This shirt is horrible.” She winks at me. “And I’ll let you repay the favor by kidnapping me anytime.” Her hand dances across my chest as she looks to her right. “It looks like dinner is ready.” She sighs.
I look to my left and see three waiters with a fancy table with a white tablecloth and red roses everywhere. This is going to be the most romantic date of my life in the most romantic of places. This is meant to be the start of an epic love story. It’s just not the love story that either of us wants.
I walk over to the table and pull out the chair like the gentleman that I am for Skye to sit.
She shakes her head and walks over to the other chair. She pulls it out herself and takes a seat.
I rub the back of my neck, completely bewildered by this woman.
“This isn’t a date. Take a seat, Romeo,” she says, pointing at the chair that I just pulled out for her.
I take a seat. “I thought that was exactly what this was. A date.”
“What do you want to drink?” she asks me.
“Wine.”
“No, not wine. What else do you want?”
“Bourbon.”
She looks at the waiters. “Bring us a bottle of bourbon and tequila and two glasses. Then, leave us alone until we call for you.”
The waiters nod and then leave to I assume follow her instructions.
“Why can’t we have wine?” I ask.
“Because wine is for people on a date.”
“And we aren’t on a date?” I ask, still not understanding what we are doing then.
“Exactly. We aren’t on a date.” She reaches into the middle of the table, grabbing the red roses sitting on the table. “Get the petals,” she commands.
I quickly sweep the flower petals into my hand, not sure what we are doing with them. Two waiters return with the bottles and glasses.
“Set them on the table in the center,” Skye commands.
They do without hesitation or blink of the eye.
“Now, take these, and leave us alone. We will come inside to grab food later.” Skye holds out the flowers, and I do the same. The waiters take the flowers and petals and leave us alone.
Skye grabs the tequila bottle and glass and pours herself a glass almost completely full with way more tequila than what she should be drinking. She takes a swig as she leans back in the chair until the front legs are off the ground. “Better. Now, it’s not a date.”
I nod as I look around at the yacht. She might have taken away the flowers and the wine, but we are still on a boat with gold-colored edging and dark wood floors, which costs more than quadruple the price of most people’s houses. We are still alone on a yacht in the middle of the ocean with the sun setting before us. Getting rid of a few flowers doesn’t get rid of the fact that this is definitely a date.
“Now, you just need to get rid of the sunset and start burping or something so that I stop thinking of you as this beautiful woman I want to fuck.”
She burps.
I laugh.
“I can’t do anything about the sunset. And I want you to want to fuck me,
just not date me.”
I grab the bottle of bourbon and pour myself a reasonable glass.
“So, what are we doing if we aren’t on a date?”
“We are negotiating.”
I take a drink of my bourbon. “And what are we negotiating?”
“What I want from you.”
She takes another drink of her tequila, emptying almost half of the glass, before she leans forward, the front legs of her chair touching back down on the ground. She harshly places the glass back on the table, and she folds her arms in front of her.
“Here are my terms. I want one week of filthy, dirty, tie me up, spank me till I come, dangerous sex. I want the kind of sex that makes me forget about everything. I want the kind that makes me feel alive again. The kind you only read about in naughty romance books or when watching porn. That’s what I want. Can you give me that, Brody?”
Her eyes are dark and serious when she talks. Her voice is stern and unwavering. Something happened to her to make her need this or at least think that this is what she wants. And I don’t care to know what it is. I don’t want to get involved in her clearly messy life.
I lean forward on the table so that I’m eye-to-eye with her. “I can make your darkest fantasies come true.”
She grins. “Good. I chose my man well then.”
I nod.
“Now, the terms. You are mine for the week. You don’t get to go around, fucking other women and then fuck me. I’ll have sex with you as much as you want this week, but I’m not willing to share.”
I smirk. “I don’t share either.”
“Good. I also don’t do attachment. We aren’t dating. We aren’t a couple. This goes nowhere after this week.”
“I don’t date, so it won’t be a problem—as long as you can keep your emotions out of this.” I eye her with suspicion.
She growls. “Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I have emotions that need more controlling than you do. When I look at you, I feel nothing but the need to rip your clothes off.”
I narrow my eyes, searching hers for a bit of untruth. I find none.
“Satisfied?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“Lastly, we don’t discuss anything personal. We don’t talk about what our jobs are or where we live. We don’t do last names. You don’t introduce me to your friends. I don’t hear about your past girlfriends, and you don’t ask about my past lovers. We learn nothing about each other, except how you like to fuck me and what each other sounds like when we come. That’s it.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“Do you have any terms or requests?”
“Just one. That you remember the word red. It’s your safe word when you can’t handle the pain or the sex anymore, and you are going to need to use it.”
Her eyes deepen, and her lips curl up just a little at that thought.
“I don’t think there is anything you can do to make me use that word. But I’ll remember.”
My eyes scan hers. She’s been hurt. Really, really hurt. She wants me to take away her pain with more pain and sex. She’s right that it will help her for the week. I’m just glad I won’t be there when she goes back to her normal life and has to deal with whatever crap she is hiding from me.
“Food or sex first?” she asks.
I smirk. “I forgot one final rule. You want BDSM, right? You want me to tie you up, spank you, whip you—the whole package, right?”
She nods, her mouth open and panting.
“Then, you have to give up control. You do exactly what I say, when I say it. You don’t get to say no to anything. You just do without thinking. If it’s too much, you tell me red to stop. Otherwise, you don’t think for the rest of the week.”
“Exactly.”
My inner demon comes out the second she says that. She just gave me complete control over her body. And I plan on taking advantage of having that control.
“Excuse me,” one of the waiters says.
I exhale deeply. I’m pretty sure steam blows out of my ears from my pent-up anger with Bayron, but it is now getting directed at this new man who I won’t let cockblock me. Not now that I finally get her with no strings attached.
Skye gives the man an equally perturbed look. “What?” she snaps.
“I’m very sorry to interrupt you, but the captain’s cat we think is having a seizure or something. We can either turn back or you can—”
Skye sighs, getting up from the table, looking me dead in the eye. Then, she breaks her own rule, telling me something about herself. “I’ll take a look at the cat.”
3
Skye
Damn it!
All I wanted to do was have some filthy, dirty, mind-blowing sex with a hot stranger who wants the same thing that I do. How hard is that to get? Between Bayron forcing me into this date and now the captain’s cat, I’m not sure if I will ever get what I want.
I quickly follow the waiter back to the captain’s quarters where they have the cat lying on a bed. I try not to think about how many rules I’m breaking by showing Brody that I’m a vet. I just want to take care of the cat and then get back to the part where Brody fucks me. The cat is probably fine anyway.
But, when I put my hands on the cat, I know that the cat isn’t fine. He needs help. Immediately.
“Get me the first aid kit. Now,” I say calmly, looking at the waiter.
“Is he going to be okay?” the captain asks.
“I need you to get me towels, his food, and favorite toys. Understand?”
He nods.
“Go,” I say sternly, just trying to get him out of the room, so I can do what I need to do. I don’t need any of the things I just asked him to get.
The waiter returns with the first aid kit and puts it on the bed. The cat isn’t breathing. I quickly look in his mouth to see if anything is obstructing his airflow. I can’t see anything, but most likely, there is something, and I just can’t see it. If he was having a seizure before, he might have thrown something up that is now lodged in his throat.
I start performing CPR, but air isn’t getting into his lungs like I expected.
“Are you squeamish?” I ask the waiter as I throw open the first aid kit, hoping it has everything I need.
“Yes.”
“Then, get out.”
It has a scalpel and gauze. “I need a straw,” I say, glancing around the room.
“Here,” Brody says, handing me a straw as he kneels down next to me on the bed.
I give him a wide-eyed stare. I don’t have time to ask how or where he found it.
“I’m not squeamish,” he says.
I nod, not having time to deal with if he is or isn’t. I have a cat to save.
“Start opening those gauze packets.”
He does while I grab the scalpel. I don’t have time to shave the cat like I’d like or give the cat anything for pain. Instead, I palpate and then make a quick and exact cut into the cat’s lungs.
I grab the straw and carefully place it into the opening. I grab the gauze from Brody to stop the bleeding.
“Come on,” I say, waiting for oxygen to get into the cat’s lungs.
His lungs slowly start filling and then emptying with air, and I let out a deep breath.
“Hold him still,” I tell Brody.
His hands hold the cat that will start feeling more alive now that he is getting oxygen.
“Do you have your phone on you?”
Brody pulls out his phone and hands it to me. I turn the flashlight on and open the cat’s mouth to get a better look while I take the tweezers. It takes me several minutes to find the obstruction, but I finally find the piece of plastic that is lodged in his throat. I pull it out, and then slowly, the cat starts breathing on his own.
“Good kitty,” I say, petting his head. I wait a few more minutes to make sure he is breathing well on his own before I take the straw out and cover the small wound with gauze and wrap.
The captain runs back into th
e room. “I couldn’t find his favorite toys.”
I smile. “It’s okay. Your cat is doing much better now. You should have your vet take a look at him tomorrow to make sure he’s still doing okay, but he’s in the clear.”
I can see the relief all over the man’s face. It’s one of the best parts of the job—watching owners realize that their beloved pet is going to be all right.
He runs over to the cat and wraps his arms around him while I take a step back.
I don’t dare glance over at Brody. I don’t want to know what he’s thinking. We were supposed to remain a mystery to each other. That was how we would be able to remain unattached. But, in a matter of seconds, I destroyed all of that.
I walk out of the room, knowing that Brody is following. I walk back to the front of the boat as the first part of darkness starts covering the sky. I walk back to the railing to look out as the stars begin to take over the sky.
Brody slowly walks over next to me. He doesn’t touch me. He just leans on the railing and looks out at the ocean and sky with me.
“I wish I could pretend like I didn’t just see that, but I’m not a very good actor.”
I sigh. “It’s okay. It was stupid to think that we could spend a week together and not learn some basic facts about each other.” I turn toward Brody. “I’m a veterinarian, if you didn’t figure that out already. I like animals more than I like people. And, if you think what I did back there was impressive, don’t. I don’t want you thinking I’m this amazing human being you should date after this. I’m not that good of a person. If that had been a human back there, I would have let them die. This changes nothing.”
He smirks.
“What’s so amusing?”
“You are the strangest human being I’ve ever met.”
My lips slowly curl up. “You think I’m strange. Good.”
I walk back to the table, pour us each another drink, and then walk back to the railing, handing Brody his drink.
“So, tell me something about yourself since you now know too much about me.”
Brody takes a slow sip of his drink as he stares deeply into my eyes. “You don’t want me to tell you anything about myself.”