Page 58 of Redemption

He tasted like mint and salt. Like all my best memories and the source of my greatest heartbreak.

And somehow that, coupled with his words, cleared my head enough to realize that this was a bad idea. A mistake. I placed my hands on his chest, gently pushing him away.

“You’re right,” I said, my lips swollen from his kisses. “We can’t.”

I swallowed. I couldn’t do this again. I couldn’t go down this path—knowing heartbreak was the only thing waiting for me at the end.

He peered down at me with concern but didn’t try to come closer.

I straightened my swimsuit top and covered my chest with my arms as if to shield myself from him. I supposed a handful of nights at sea with Jackson, sailing the beautiful Caribbean, was enough to make anyone lose their senses.

Jackson shook his head, his vision clearing as if from a trance. “I’m sorry. That was completely unprofessional.”

Unprofessional, right. I bit my lip and glanced away. There was always some excuse, some reason, why we couldn’t be together. In the past, it had been his uncertain future. His sister. Just when I’d thought we could finally move past one of them, something else would pop up like a twisted game of Whac-A-Mole.

He turned his back to me and grasped the railing, peering over the side of the boat. I took a moment to study his back—the tattoos that came to life every time his muscles rippled. Some were familiar and others were new. All beautiful and captivating.

“I’m going to shower,” I said, needing to be somewhere, anywhere, else. Unfortunately, on the boat in the middle of the ocean, there were only so many places to go.

I headed below deck with a heavy sigh. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t some horny teenager who forgot all reason, but that was how Jackson made me feel. Insatiable. Uncontrollable.

I blamed it on the sea air. The vacation mentality.

That was all this was. All any vacation was. A chance to escape the ordinary. To ignore responsibilities and expectations and reality for a little while. I might fantasize about Jackson, but that was all it could ever be. At the end of the trip, Jackson and I would return to our separate lives, and nothing would change.

I stared at the ceiling. I couldn’t imagine a more peaceful setting—floating in the calm waters off the coast of a secluded paradise. It was a cloudless night with no rain in the forecast. Even so, it felt as if a storm was approaching. My body was tense. And I felt…restless. On edge.

I sighed and rolled to my side. We had another full day of sailing tomorrow to reach Mayaguana. I needed my rest, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened earlier. About Jackson.

He’d been…well, even better than I’d remembered. His kiss. His touch. They had the power to consume me. They nearly had once.

And while I knew it was a good thing we’d stopped, that didn’t mean my body was happy about it. No. It was achy and frustrated and woefully unsatisfied.

I kicked the covers aside and padded to the galley for some water. The space was bathed in red light, and I was halfway across the main cabin when I heard a groan. I paused. Maybe it was the groan of the ship, but it sounded more like the groan of a man.

The sound of another low groan had me rushing to Jackson’s door, my gut clenching with concern. What if he’d eaten something that didn’t agree with him? What if he was hurt?

We were in the middle of the ocean. If something bad had happened, I needed to act fast.

In my panic, I twisted the handle to his quarters without knocking. The boat rocked, carrying the door open with it. Red light spilled into his bunk from the main cabin, his breaths suddenly even louder in the small space. His torso was bare. He’d kicked off the sheets, and there was just enough light to see the outline of his hand gripping his cock as he pumped himself furiously.

Oh my god. Oh my…

I was too stunned to move. Too entranced to do anything but stare.

When I met his eyes, they were hooded as he scanned my form. Daring me to watch him. Or at least, that was how it felt.

I swallowed hard, easily falling under his spell once more. I hadn’t set foot into his room. Hadn’t removed any of my clothes, and I was already on edge just from the sight of him. God, he really was glorious. And the longer I stood there, the more my eyes adjusted, allowing me the most erotic and tantalizing glimpses of this beautiful man.

I felt as if I couldn’t breathe. As if my whole body was wound tight, my being wrapped up in him. Everything tingled and ached and wanted. Wanted him.

Before I realized what I was doing, my hand had drifted down, sliding beneath the silk of my pajama bottoms. I just…I needed a release. Something. This past week had been torture, and seeing Jackson now, touching himself, pleasuring himself, had finally pushed me over the edge.

Our eyes locked. I rubbed my clit, imagining it was his hands. His tongue. It still wasn’t enough, but it was as far as I dared go.

“Fuck,” he grunted. “Yes, hayati.”

I knew he was close. Hell, I was nearly there too, the pleasure building and building to an almost impossible crescendo.

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