CHRIS SLID HER palm along the glossy rail of Adam LeCroix’s seventy-five-foot cruising yacht. “How come you don’t have one of these?”
“You want one?” Kota propped his elbows on the rail and smiled gorgeously. “Consider it your wedding present.”
“Speaking of”—air quotes—“our wedding. You all but told everyone the invitations are in the mail.”
He shrugged. “Love was in the air.”
She had to agree. Adam and Maddie’s sunset wedding was unforgettable; an intimate ceremony with a handful of guests, a candlelight dinner on deck, and dancing under twinkle lights to a talented trio.
Now Chris was alone with Kota under the stars. The trio had departed for shore and the other guests had retired, except for Adam and Maddie, still waltzing to their own tune at the far end of the deck. The yacht rocked gently on the placid sea. The lights of Portofino twinkled in the distance, reflected in Kota’s eyes.
It couldn’t have been more romantic.
But still. “I haven’t said I’d marry you.”
“Sweetheart, we both know it’s just a matter of time.”
He was right, of course. For a month he’d been wearing her down. Not pressuring her—he’d shown surprising restraint. But wooing her with conversation, good food, and mind-blowing sex.
In her head, she’d already set the date. But it wouldn’t do to give in too easily.
“You’re a cocky bastard,” she said. “Lucky for you, pasta puts me in a forgiving mood.”
“Pasta does lots of good things to you.” He gave her ass a squeeze.
She swung it out of reach. “They’re not melons, you know.”
“Believe me, fruit’s the farthest thing from my mind.” He pulled her into his arms, rubbed his nose in her hair. “Mmm, roses. I used to be partial to peaches, but you made a rose man out of me.”
A breeze riffled across the water, making her shiver. He opened his jacket and wrapped it around her. She snuggled in, his heat warming her through his shirt.
Maddie appeared beside them, her satin gown shimmering. “Hey, you two. We’re hitting the sack. Christy, I want to thank you again. It was beautiful.”
Chris smiled. “It’s a privilege to sing at a wedding. Especially for friends.”
Adam came up behind Maddie, set his hands on her shoulders. His black tux was immaculate . . . except for the red lipstick on his white collar.
“It was magical,” he said to Chris. “We’ll never forget it.” To Kota, “If you can get away from the set again, we’ll be cruising for three weeks. Fly into any airport in Greece, and we’ll get you both out to the ship.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Kota said. “By the way, nice vows.”
Adam laughed. “I couldn’t have been more surprised when Maddie proposed we write our own. She’s not known for sentiment.”
Maddie sniffed. “It’s not sentiment. The lawyer in me wanted the terms on the table.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Consider me forewarned that love, honor, and cherish will go out the window in a zombie apocalypse.”
Leaving Chris and Kota at the rail, they went off to do what newlyweds do.
Kota nuzzled her again. “It was nice of you to sing for them.”
“Like I said, it was a privilege. I felt the same about Tana’s wedding, even with all the baggage.” She tipped her head up and propped her chin on his chest. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but once I met you backstage, I wasn’t singing for anybody else. I was singing for you.”
For a long moment he gazed down at her from eyes midnight blue.
Then, “I knew it,” he blurted, busting out in a grin. “I knew you were singing for me. I looked around at all those other suckers who were thinking the same thing, but I knew it.”
She rolled her eyes. “I was right, I shouldn’t have told you.”
He let out a big laugh and lifted her feet off the deck in a hug.
She jabbed his ribs. “Put me down. I’m going to bed.”
“Damn right you are.” He swung her into his arms and headed for their stateroom. “If we’re lucky, we’ll hear the newlyweds goin’ at it next door. I know how that turns you on.”
Her face caught fire. “I can’t believe you brought that up.”
He stepped inside and kicked the door closed behind him. Then he tossed her on the king-sized bed. “I might be persuaded,” he said, untying his bow tie, “not to bring it up for the rest of the night.”
She leaned back against the pillows, mouth watering as he peeled off his shirt. He’d trained hard for the Western, and his chest was even bigger, his abs more defined.
She licked her lips. “Exactly what would I have to do to persuade you?”
Unbuckling his belt, he said, “All you have to do is ask, darlin’. Just ask.”
That was too easy. “Okay,” she said. “Please.”
He pulled his belt through the loops. “Please . . . what?”
Ah. So he wanted to go there again, did he?
Well, she’d play along, to a point. And revenge would be sweet.
Playing the submissive, she crawled toward him, slowly, until she reached the foot of the bed. Then she sat back on her heels.
Reaching both arms behind her, she unzipped her dress an inch at a time, until the filmy black silk slid off her shoulders to puddle around her hips.
And she waited.
He tried to hold her eyes, but his gaze kept dropping to her breasts, squeezed together and served up in a black satin, barely-there bra.
Hooking her pinky under one strap, she drew the ribbon of lace ever so slowly over the curve of her shoulder.
His belt slipped through his fingers to the floor.
Reaching into her bra, she drew forth one breast and cupped it in her palm. He wet his lips.
A standoff.
Then, “Hell,” he muttered. “You win.” And he tackled her, peeling off her bra, shedding his trousers.
Laughing, giddy, she let him have his way with her, and she had her way right back.
When they’d worn each other out, he spooned her, his big body warmer than the warmest quilt. “I gotta hand it to you, darlin’.” His murmur was sleepy and sated. “You don’t fight fair.”
Snuggling her rump to his groin, she covered his hand where it cupped her breast. And she smiled, smugly.
“It’s the power of the tit.”