Page 25 of Make Me Yours

Sully pushes away from the faded wood behind her, sliding her hands into the pockets of baggy jeans that do nothing to disguise her strong legs and curvy hips. “Maybe. I have a few questions. Is now a good time? I know the funeral was this morning. I can come back later if?—”

“It’s fine,” I cut in, nodding over my shoulder. “But we should go below.”

“To talk,” she says, emphasizing the word in a way that makes her meaning clear. “Just talk.”

I incline my head. “Of course. My family will be driving this way. I doubt either of us wants to risk them seeing us chatting alone on deck.”

She nods. “Agreed. I don’t want my people to see anything, either. The quieter we keep this, the better.”

Her words give me an idea…

“Want to get out of town?” I ask. “I haven’t had the boat inspected, but Rodger’s attorney assured me it was in sea-worthy shape. We could head up the coast, dock, and grab lunch somewhere?” I barely ate anything at the post-funeral luncheon and like the idea of treating her to a nice meal.

She hesitates only a moment before she shrugs. “Sure. I’ve never steered a yacht before.”

“And you’re not steering it now,” I say as she moves past me to the gangplank.

Once I join her on deck, she pins me with a steady gaze. “Yes, I am. You’ve been in the city too long to be trusted on the water. I navigate this area five or six days a week. I’m the best choice for captain of this vessel.”

I arch a brow as I stow the plank. “You think I haven’t been out on the water since I moved to New York? I have a boat at my place in The Hamptons.”

“That’s cute, but the answer is still no,” she says, propping her hands on her hips. “Either I drive or we stay docked.”

“You’re bossier than I remember,” I say.

Her cheeks flush. “Yeah, well, that wasyourarea of expertise. This is mine.”

My lips curve. “Thanks for the compliment.”

She rolls her eyes and exhales a flustered breath that makes me happier than it should. I shouldn’t want to fluster this girl. I shouldn’t want to take her to lunch or to kiss her again, but…I do.

So, I don’t put up a fight as she collects the keys from the hook by the door of the cockpit and starts checking the controls.

I simply settle into the leather chair near the window and watch her work, doing my best not to find her capable handling of the yacht sexy as fuck.

I fail, of course.

But I try. I honestly do.

chapter 9

GERTIE

The cockpit is quieterthan any I’ve experienced, swiftly killing my hopes that we won’t have to talk until we’re settled over a sandwich somewhere.

In the build-up to showing up on Weaver’s dock, I’d convinced myself this conversation wouldn’t be a big deal.

Yes, I slept with this man, but we’re both grown-ups, and perfectly capable of having an adult conversation.

And, as expected, Weaver was cool about me wanting to “just talk.”

Of course, he was. He’s the epitome of cool. He’s so cool, it burns a little. I feel his frosty gray eyes on me like an ice cube dragging slowly down my spine, making me shiver…and wish he would touch me.

I underestimated how much I would want him to touch me. But then, I’ve never slept with someone before. Maybe this is normal, this itching beneath the skin that grows worse with every moment I’m in this man’s presence and not on top of him.

Or under him.

Or tangled with him against the wall.

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