Bring the Heat

by Margot Radcliffe

  And then he was plunging back inside her with a single decisive stroke, eyes shutting at the warm wetness of her that encased him. He fucking loved being inside Molly, never wanted to be outside her. If he could somehow attach himself to her person, it would be a great fucking day. He kept thrusting, pulling her hips back before she was ready. Her whimpers got closer, one on top of the other as he grew more forceful, her inner muscles gripping him as he left her and sucking him back in as he entered. They were in tune, together, both surging forward to that ultimate peak.

  He didn’t know how he’d gotten so lucky, how he’d avoided all the women his parents had wanted him to marry when this was the thing that had been waiting for him. It was so good, the pressure building in his sack, and then with a grunt he poured into the condom just as her muscles fluttered around him as she climaxed and his entire body was energized with lust before falling into complete and total bliss.

  Their heavy breathing was the only sound in the room as he pulled out of her, slowly, then helped her lie on the bed. Dropping a kiss on the small of her back, he headed into the bathroom to dispose of the condom.

  Once finished, he brought back a bottle of water to the bed and offered it to her. “I know you’re probably exhausted after all that work,” he said.

  A corner of her mouth kicked up as she looked up at him. She’d turned over to her back on the bed, the lower half of her legs hanging off the side, and used her elbows to raise her torso. As she took the bottle from him and drank, he could only stare at her soft golden skin in the hushed morning light coming through the windows.

  He drew a slow finger down the middle of her chest, in between her perfect breasts, regarding her as she drank. “How am I supposed to operate this boat when I know you’re somewhere aboard looking like this?” he mused, his finger making small circles on the slightly raised bump of her stomach.

  “Same,” she told him, recapping the water and setting it aside. “But I’m willing to at least make it out of port today so we can anchor somewhere and then do all of that again.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, making it off the dock will be enough.”

  Her head fell back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling as he continued to explore her. He thought it might be impossible for him to actually remove his hand, to stop touching her. He was already addicted to the connection.

  “So we know the boat’s engine is operational. I checked all the equipment yesterday including and up to hair dryers and kitchen appliances. I’d say we’re ready to sail when you are, Captain.”

  “Sounds good.”

  She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Do you have plans to share where we’re going during this Caribbean adventure?”

  He splayed his entire hand on her stomach, watching intently at the juxtaposition of his rough hand on her smooth, flawless skin. “You want a detailed itinerary?” he asked, meeting her eyes. Then with a shrug, “I don’t have a set plan, but I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, baby.”

  His insides warmed at her snort. Then she met his eyes, hers growing melty. “I don’t need to leave this boat to have an amazing time.”

  Ah, fuck, this girl. His chest clenched and he leaned down to take her mouth again. The kiss was soft and sweet and he dropped another one on the tip of her nose as he broke away. “Then we’ll say fuck it and sail toward the Bahamas and stay aboard. Like I said, there are a couple of ports I need to visit to look at some boats and take a meeting, but other than that it’s just you and me, Molly.”

  “That sounds really good,” she said, and he just couldn’t even believe how lucky he was that her asshole fiancé cheated on her. It was a fucking miracle that she was now single after all these years and on his boat wanting to be with him.

  “You mean it sounds fan-fucking-tastic,” he growled, leaning down to plant a loud, messy kiss on her belly where his hand had been.

  Molly laughed and tried to squirm away, but he knelt down on the bed until he was kissing back up her chest to her mouth.

  “You’re right,” she said, grinning at him when they were nose to nose. “I’ll be more careful with my superlatives in the future.”

  “Damn right.” He smiled back. He stood, pulling her up from the bed with him. “Let’s go, chief engineer, and get out of here. The sooner we set sail, the sooner we drop anchor, which means the sooner we can get back in here and do that again.”

  “And again?” Molly teased.

  “And again,” he confirmed, his hand giving her a last squeeze before heading to the bathroom for a shower.

  When she stood there not coming in, he crooked a finger at her. “Don’t be shy, Molly,” he said. “I promise I won’t seduce you.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, covering her gorgeous breasts, which was a damn shame. “That’s what you said in the middle of the night, and we were up for another hour.”

  He felt his lips curve before he even got the words out. “Sweetheart, I’ve been up since the moment you walked onto this boat.”

  Molly’s eyes closed on a groan. “Oh my God,” she said, her voice high with disbelief. “You are out of your mind.”

  “That’s accurate,” he agreed wryly. “Now, come on, shower with me so we can live up to the eco-conscious redesign of this boat and save some water.”

  Hiding a grin, Molly followed him into the bathroom and climbed into the enormous shower with him. He’d envisioned being in here with Molly, watching the clear water sluice over her body, her wet hair slicked back. He’d also imagined what he did next, which was go down on her as the hot water pelted down on her back and into his mouth as he licked at her.

  “Oliver,” she whispered when she was finished.

  He met her mouth with a gentle kiss when he rose again. “Just a thank-you for you showering with me.”

  They finished washing up after she gave him the most sensuous shampoo and conditioning treatment he’d ever experienced. No one had ever handled him like that before, taking care not to get soap in his eyes or ears, massaging his scalp. It was meticulous and thorough and so Molly Madix. It also warmed his heart in a way that he couldn’t even explain because he’d never felt that way before. But it finally felt like he was being cared for and he never wanted to let that go.

  They eventually parted ways to get to work, her to the engine room and him to the cockpit at the side of the boat to take off. She’d untied the ropes harnessing them at the dock while he and the lone deck crew member communicated over the headset. Within minutes, they were in the wide-open Atlantic Ocean, pointed east toward Grand Bahama Island. It was only a two-hour sail and after about a half hour, Molly joined him back up in the bridge. Once the undocking was over, he’d come up to the main steering wheel and controls so he could see the ocean spread out in front of him.

  Plus, it was much cooler in the bridge than outside, which was a plus. The sun was high in the sky already and hot. He monitored the controls as the boat glided over the water and he was so pleased by the work he’d done. No, he hadn’t carved the siding or built the engine, but this boat had been his labor of love and damn if that didn’t make it all the sweeter.

  “What are you smiling at?” Molly asked, joining him at the wheel. She was holding a bottle of water and the tiny speck of grease on her thumb got his own engine roaring. Never had grease seemed so erotic to him.

  “Just that we’re an hour in on open water and this baby is purring like a jungle cat.”

  Molly’s shoulders shook and she grinned at him. “You don’t look like a silly man, but you are.”

  “I know my pretty face is meant to be carved in marble, but a man’s got to laugh.”

  She shot him an amused look. “You’re proud of yourself for this boat and you should be,” she said. “Everything downstairs is running well. I think we’re good.”

  “We’re about an hour until we can drop anchor. I figure we’ll find a s
hady spot in the shadow of a hill or something.”

  “I’m looking forward to doing not much.”

  “I’m looking forward to doing you,” he said, already laughing at her eye roll.

  “You just can’t stop, can you?”

  He shook his head. “It’s true, though. I hope you’re prepared for just how much my hands are going to be on you during this trip.”

  “I think I can handle it,” she said, eyebrow raised. “Pun intended.”

  His grin was huge. “That’s the spirit, Molly.”

  She just shook her head and directed her gaze to the blue ocean in front of them.

  “Are we going to go ashore once we anchor?”

  “If you want. Might be nice to have a dinner on land sometimes. Especially since we don’t have a chef aboard yet. I know I’m a culinary genius, but a night off might be nice.”

  “You’re going to cook tonight?”

  He shrugged. “Who else is going to do it?”

  Molly looked at him thoughtfully. “I don’t know, I thought we’d just order pizza or something.”

  Oliver couldn’t help it—he pulled her closer, into his arms. He couldn’t not touch her. “I’ll cook for you anytime.”

  She sighed in his arms. “You’re just trying to make it impossible for me to ever leave this yacht, aren’t you?”

  “You bet.” He smiled, but she had no idea just how true her statement was.

  CHAPTER SIX

  MOLLY WAS SITTING on the upper deck of Chance with an ice-cold margarita talking herself out of pinching herself as she gazed at the setting sun over the sandy white beach of Grand Bahama Island when she got the text that immediately put a crater-size dent in her euphoric mood.

  Max, her ex, apparently wanted her to answer the phone calls from him that she’d been ignoring. Reading over the words a second time, she let out a pent-up breath. She didn’t want to talk to Max and they most certainly didn’t have anything to discuss. In fact, she was downright irritated that his text was pulling her out of the lusciously filthy thoughts she’d been having all morning about Oliver.

  “No frowning on yachts,” Oliver reprimanded from his place behind the bar where he was making another batch of margaritas.

  “I see people cry in baseball all the time,” she told him, trying to sidestep the text she’d just gotten. She didn’t want to talk about Max with Oliver anymore. Just wanted him to be a distant memory already.

  “You must be thinking of soccer,” he joked, coming out from behind the small chrome bar of the deck with his own refilled margarita. Looking down at her from where he stood, he took a sip and regarded her. She knew he expected her to tell him what had made her frown but she didn’t want to. She wanted to enjoy being in paradise, surrounding by turquoise water, open sky and the sexiest man on earth, who hadn’t put a shirt on once since anchoring the boat sometime before noon. Which meant that he’d been all day just walking around the yacht, checking his email, making calls, cooking them lunch and dinner, as if he wasn’t irresistible already without the ridged expanse of his abs on full display.

  “Molly,” he said, taking her hand in his, letting his thumbs drift over her knuckles. Then he cursed as he saw the bit of grease she’d missed under her fingernails. “Fuck, I love it when you have grease on your hands.” His eyes met hers. “Why does that turn me on so much?”

  “Maybe you have an affinity for anything that could be used as lube?”

  His shoulders started shaking and the corners of his eyes crinkled. He was so adorable when he laughed, so different from the cultured and sophisticated person he really was. Despite their friendship, while she was sitting on the super yacht he owned, it was literally impossible for her to forget just how wealthy he was and how far out of her depth she was. When they’d dated before, she’d been too young to really understand levels of wealth. When he’d told her his parents had family money, she’d imagined a McMansion like the ones she’d grown up around that kids whose parents were doctors or lawyers lived in. That had been her idea of wealthy and she’d still known then that she didn’t belong in that world. Amazing sex aside, she knew it couldn’t work.

  Once she’d found out who his parents were and did an internet search on him it had become astoundingly clear. The Kents were, like, people-who-owned-sports-teams wealthy, who built stadiums and hospitals and schools, created and funded foundations and scholarship programs. She had no idea how those people lived, nor did she understand what it must have taken for Oliver to be on this yacht with her now, to walk away from running one of the largest investment firms in the world. There had to be consequences he wasn’t sharing with her, repercussions he was facing to follow the path he wanted for himself. She’d never truly understand his life, but she did want to be a good friend to him, to be emotional support for him like he’d always been for her.

  After one night with him, every single one of her qualms about her performance in bed with Max had been quashed. Quashed so hard the little fragments of doubt had turned into diamonds. Getting him to open up was the least she could do for him.

  Oliver’s thumb ran over the tip of her finger with the black mark. “I’d love to try a few items that could be used as lube with you tonight,” he teased, stroking her hand. “Maybe some bacon grease?”

  She dropped his hand, recoiling in disgust. “That’s awful.”

  His eyes darkened as he seemed to consider it. “Are you sure? We could both cover our bodies head to toe in it, just slipping and sliding all over each other smelling like Sunday-morning breakfast. It could be fun, Molly.”

  She knew he was just being silly, but the prospect of sliding all over Oliver did send a zing of heat through her body.

  Meeting his eyes, she saw the smile there and shook her head. “You’re such nonsense.”

  He grinned, then pulled another chaise over to hers and extended out onto it, his abs rippling with the movement and his thick tanned thigh muscles standing out against the white chair cushion. “I am, but I’m also not the one staring at my phone. Talk to me, Molly. We’re sleeping together now, so if there’s something going on with your ex, I’d like to know.”

  “Nothing’s going on, but he texted and he wants me to call him to clear up a few things.”

  Oliver’s brow furrowed as he searched her expression. “You’re not thinking of trying to work things out with him, are you?”

  “No, of course not,” she said, shaking her head vehemently. “I just don’t know that I want to talk to him. I’m not good expressing what I feel out loud. I’m better at fixing things, using tools.”

  Setting his margarita aside, Oliver flipped over so that he was on his side facing her. “Well, you don’t have to call him, but maybe it’s for the best to put a bookend on it because something is happening between us on this boat, Molly. I don’t know where it’s going or what your expectations are, but I don’t want to keep doing what we’re doing if you’re not ready or still want to give things a chance with him.” He held her eyes then. “So if you want to talk about what you want to say more with me, I’m here. I understand he wasn’t just some guy you were dating—you were going to marry him. That’s a big deal.”

  “I know,” she told him, but it was really just a statement to stall for time so she could pick and choose the right things to say after her heart had skipped a beat at his words. Something was happening between them but it wasn’t as if they were dating for real; like last time, it was a fling, another yacht romance. Oliver wasn’t going to ask her to marry him and then whisk her away to some Fifth Avenue paradise penthouse as he resumed his life as a billionaire and she went back to building spacecraft. That wasn’t a likely scenario. Nor was she interested in living that life. She liked her life.

  So she was happy to continue having fun, but after she left this boat she’d get back to her real life and while she didn’t have plans to get back togeth
er with Max, she did know that she needed closure from that relationship before she moved on to another one. Whenever it might be.

  “I guess it just feels weird to be hashing things out with him when I’ve already moved on,” Molly told Oliver. “He hasn’t been interested in apologizing and I don’t want to hear more of his excuses, so I guess I’m just wary of what he could possibly still have to say. Maybe I actually am afraid of getting closure and moving on, after all.”

  Oliver ran a hand through the side of her hair, shifting her gaze to his. “I hear you. It probably won’t be a super fun conversation, but do you want us to keep sleeping together?”

  God help her, that was basically all she wanted right now. To drink him in like he was a magic elixir that, poof, made her life perfect. “Yeah.”

  His eyes glinted with satisfaction and she started to feel uneasy. “Good, so all you have to do is call him tomorrow and tell him that I’m the man in your life now and that he can go fuck off. Closure accomplished.”

  Was she doing an ice bucket challenge or something? Because cold water had definitely just been dumped on her head at the directive. She liked Oliver, but this was her real life she was dealing with whereas he would eventually leave her behind to return to his life in million-dollar world just like he had before. “Come again?” she asked, her voice deceptively chipper.

  His eyes held hers, unwavering even though he’d picked up her change of tone. “You’re sleeping with me now, so I suggested you call your shitty ex and let him know.”

  “You’re overstepping, Oliver,” she warned, her voice low but not mean.

  His thumb brushed over her jaw. “I overstep, Molly, that’s who I am.”

  “You’ve never overstepped with me before,” she pointed out. He’d always been the perfect gentleman with her. From everything to deferring to her on boat matters, loving the grease in random places on her person, admiring how she was able to build and fix things, he’d always made her feel special and like he was proud of her.