Page 62 of Make Me Want it Too

“I don’t know if I’d call a hyperglycemic emergency a mishap,” I say, keeping a smile on my face but not bothering to hide the edge in my voice. “It’s kind of wild how we can’t control whether our pancreases work properly or not. I’m glad yours does, Mrs. Hayes. Weird flex, though. But hey, we won’t keep you from mingling with your guests.”

I whisk Macy away without even waiting for a hand squeeze from her or a reply from Saundra.

The boat leaves the dock and sets out on the water. The water is calm. The sky is clear except for a few clouds striating the sky in streaks.

We walk around and mingle. Macy isn’t in the mood to talk much, so I do most of the talking for us. She has that smile on again—the one that she does when she doesn’t want anyone to know she’s sad.

I hug her to me as I ease her away from the crowd. “Are you feeling okay? Any motion sickness? Need something to eat?”

She looks up, her smile staying the same, but her eyes lose their weariness. “No nausea. And I think I can wait until dinner. Thanks, Wood.” She leans against my side, and I resist the urge to wrap both arms around her.

I bend over, catching the citrusy scent of her hair. “They’re going to start dinner soon. Should we go find somewhere private where you can test?”

There it is. There’s her real smile. “Yeah,” she says. “That would be good.”

I find one of the crew members and ask where the restroom is. He says there’s one just below deck to the right.

“Only one? On this whole yacht?” I slip him a fifty. “Is there one that’s more…private?”

He glances between me and Macy and slides the bill into his pocket. “Two levels down is the crew bathroom. Down the hall toward the back of the boat, third door on the left.”

“Thanks, my man.”

I hold Macy’s hand as we navigate down the steep steps to get below deck. There’s a line of at least five people waiting to use the bathroom.

Nope.

Still holding her hand, I lead her around to the smaller set of stairs tucked under the first ones.

She takes the steps slowly. “The heels,” she says with an apologetic smile.

“Take all the time you need, love.”

It’s darker down here, with none of the rich wood paneling, gold sconces, or navy carpet, just white walls and rubber floors and metal cages over bare bulbs lining the hallway. All the doors are shut, circular metal plaques labeling each one.

“Here we go.” I turn the knob on the one labeled lavatory.

And when I open the door, there is my cousin, leaning up against the sink. Livvy is on her knees in front of him, the strap of her dress fallen down her shoulder. His belt undone and his tattooed hand in her hair, pumping her head up and down on him.

He glances up at me just before I slam the door shut.

“Jesus Christ, you guys. Haven’t you heard of locking a door?”

Noah snickers.

“Sorry!” Livvy says, her words garbled, like she still has his cock in her mouth.

“At least I didn’t have to see anyone’s bare ass this time.”

I look over at Macy. She has her hand over her mouth and is laughing, too.

I shake my head and sigh, unable to keep a serious expression, either. “Okay, let’s find you somewhere else.”

We walk down back toward the stairs when Macy points at a door that says laundry.

I try the door. It’s unlocked. We step in, turning on the light.

“Will this work?”

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