Page 17 of Voyage with the Reclusive Billionaire

Then he’s kissing me again. He’s kissing me with the echoes of that grin, and his tongue is sweeping across my lips and I’m opening my mouth to him, desperate to have the taste of him in my mouth.

“You have no idea,” Corvan says against my lips, “How fucking long I’ve been wanting to touch you like this.” His hands are, indeed, roaming all over my abdomen, barely skimming the bottom of my breasts, carefully teasing, taunting. “How long have I wanted to kiss you like this.” His tongue rolls against mine.

I’m panting when he pulls his mouth from mine, sliding it down to my jaw, my neck, and settling at the base of my shoulder, licking and nipping and sucking. His fingers dance along my waist and then slowly bunch up the pale yellow fabric of my sundress, giving me time to tell him to stop.

But I don’t.

He groans and slides his hands up my ribcage, gentle, calloused fingertips teasing my bare, heated skin until he slides them over my breasts, flicking my hardened, aroused nipples with his thumbs. He holds them with enough pressure to have my knees weakening and my core dampening. “You’re everything, Eliza,” Corvan whispers against my skin, and there’s such a truthfulness to his tone that I believe him.

One of his hands moves down my body, and I gasp when he crooks a finger inside my underwear, but I don’t pull away from him—I only pull him closer. A feral sound leaves his lips as he nips my skin once more, then kisses his way back up to my mouth before sliding his palm inside my underwear, fingers sliding between my folds. “Fuck,” Corvan whispers as he feels just how wet I am. He finds my clit with ease and flicks it just the right amount of pressure to have me arching my back. He has to press me harder against the mossy boulder behind us to keep me standing upright.

I moan against his lips when he flicks that finger again, and he tears his mouth from mine. “That’s right,” he murmurs. “Let me hear you.”

I’d be embarrassed if I had the capacity for anything other than pleasure right now.

Corvan works into a rhythm, fingers just gentle enough to tease, just hard enough to have whimpers leaving my mouth and my hips working against his hand.

He adjusts his hand so that it’s his heel scraping against my clit, and his fingers begin stretching at my entrance. But it might be too late. I can feel my climax ramping up quickly, my eyes becoming heavy lidded as my head tilts back and—

“Fuck!”

One second I’m on the verge of an orgasm, and the next I’m being pulled off the boulder and against Corvan’s body, his hands immediately at my waist.

A rock that must have been not-so-stable on top of the much larger boulder I’d been leaning on, drops to the ground right where I’d been standing. Leaning. Pressed against while Corvan had me writhing against his hand.

The large rock falls to the ground with a heavy thud. Where I had been standing.

We both stand there, chests panting.

Then I laugh. “Fucking hell. I’m determined to die, aren’t I?”

Corvan pulls me tighter against his chest and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Not. Fucking. Happening.”

Chapter eight

Corvan

I’ve had a lot to think about lately.

Firstly—what Eliza and I have is once-in-a-lifetime. Undeniable. She is mine and I am hers and I’ll be damned if I let her get away from me. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life missing these few days I’ve had with her. I’d rather be creating more memories with her at my side.

But.

I still have her to worry about. Her life. Her career. Her reputation. All things that would be affected if my name was tied to hers. But I refuse to give in to the idea of Eliza and I being anything but together. I’ll figure out a way to make her mine, forever.

It does, unfortunately, start with spending every spare second we’re near shore in my raven form to try to figure out who’s been following me.

It’s too risky and too suspicious to be shifted out in the middle of the ocean, but at least when we’re near land, people don’t think twice about my presence. Ravens live all across the globe, after all. Spotting one just a little way from the coast isn’t exactly noteworthy.

Thanks to my raven blood and the heightened senses it gives me, I’ve got a better idea of what I’m looking for than most would. I remember something about their smell hidden underneath the salty ocean water scent that surrounded the whole boat. Something more like smoke, smog. Pollution. They’d been far enough back that even my sharpened eyesight hadn’t been able to make out specific details about their face, but I still remembered the way they walked. Almost with a shyness to their steps, as if they were afraid of being seen. As if maybe they were used to hiding, to trying to be a nobody, and this wasn’t their first time blending into the background. Or trying to, anyway.

Lastly, I was now sure that they were a woman. One with blonde hair. Which, yeah, ruled out some people—but there were a lot of blonde-haired women on this boat. If that was all I was going off of, I’d be fucked.

It’s the white that she’d been wearing that really cleared things up for me. It had taken me a while to place why that had rang a bell somewhere deep in my mind, and longer still until the pieces had really snapped together.

Everyone working at the bar Eliza and I had met on the first day wore all white. Maybe if I’d been able to focus on anything other than her that night, I would have realized it sooner. It also explained why I’d only seen her following us in the early mornings—the bar was closed then. It was probably the only time she’d get the chance to spy on us. Me.

So I’d go to the bar, then.

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