Page 14 of Filthy Rich

Except…

I don’t like this thing that comes along with it. This, I don’t know, determination to see her make more discoveries on my watch. So, she likes fancy cars, first class and caviar? Then she’ll love St. Mark’s Square in Venice and the bouillabaisse at this little restaurant I know in Monte Carlo. She’ll be wild about the vibrant colors of the flowers, sky and sea on the Côte d’Azur.

And what about the way I touch her when I finally touch her? Will she like the way I lick her pussy? The way I bite her ass? The way I fuck her until there’s no daylight between us and her name pours out of her mouth on a joyous sob?

Huh. Yeah. I’m betting she’ll love all that.

My mind shifts back to our cozy little cocoon on the plane…to watching her sleep (of course I watched her sleep; who wouldn’t?)…to watching her wake up looking deliciously rumpled with her hair in her face…to the warmth of her body with the faint scent of peaches on her skin.

Exquisite. All of it.

The memories ripple through me, making me shudder with longing.

I feel like Frankenstein’s monster. I’m alive now. Alive again. Reanimated.

Whatever it is, it’s all a giant mistake. No good will come of it.

I should go home and leave the pretty young flower untouched.

But I’m just rotten enough not to do that.

How will I live with myself afterward? Don’t you worry about that. I’ll get by.

Besides, I’ve seen the way she looks at me when she thinks I don’t notice. I’ve noticed the color rising over her cheeks, the way her breath speeds up and the hard little nipples behind that filmy white dress. She may not be a virgin—what college graduate is these days? —but she’s inexperienced and ripe for the plucking. I’d stake my life on it. She’s been fucked, but she’s never been owned.

I plan to change all that. The way she wants me to.

I can’t wait to get this adventure started. Which means I’d better wrap it up here and get to the ship before it sails without me. Assuming I have a spot on the ship?—

My phone rings again. I can’t answer fast enough once I see that it’s my assistant, Barbara. “Tell me you’ve got some good news.”

“Good news and bad news,” she says with her usual brisk efficiency. “The good news is you’ve got a suite. The bad news is the captain is thrilled that you’re on board and wants to put you at the VIP table with him every night.”

There’s only one response to this information.

I curse.

“Now, now,” Barbara says. “You know you have to schmooze sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not doing it. Not this time. One dinner with the captain. Let’s do it tonight to get it out of the way. And that’s that. I’m on vacation.”

“What’s gotten into you?” she asks, her bemusement coming through loud and clear.

The question of the hour.

“I met someone,” I say before I can stop myself.

This confession about my personal life is further proof that I’m dangerously out of my head.

CHAPTER FIVE

TAMSYN

“Here you go, Mrs. Hooper,” I say, handing her a steaming cup of her favorite mint tea and joining her at the railing of her cabin’s balcony. “This should help settle your stomach.”

“Let’s hope so,” she says before belching again and thumping her chest with her fist. “I don’t know why I let the girls talk me into a cruise out of Barcelona. They know Spanish food never agrees with me.”

“Well, drink your tea and focus on this gorgeous sunset,” I say with an expansive wave, trying to distract her. Even she can’t be negative with a sunset like this. “That’ll make you feel better.”

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