Page 137 of One Wealthy Wedding

“Good.” Cat smiles viciously. “I’m glad you got her out.”

I’m saved from a conversation I don’t particularly want to have by our arrival at the slip.

“Here we are.” I point to the eighty-foot boat.

“So modest,” Cat says dryly.

“It’s a small one,” I say cheerfully. “I’ve been naked on much larger boats.”

“You’re an idiot,” she says without heat.

We’re greeted by staff and led through onto the deck, through the cabin and to the upper deck, where there’s a full bar, a hot tub, and a cushioned tanning area perched right over the bow.

“Wow,” Cat whispers.

“Mr. Archer. We’re going to set off in fifteen minutes. You asked for minimal staff today, so there will be the captain, and a few others on board, but we’ll mostly be below deck. Lunch is prepared for you and waiting at the bar. There’s champagne on ice behind the counter.” The steward points out the different areas of the boat—the day beds for lounging, the jet skis and the water toys if we want them.

When he steps away, Cat turns to me. “You asked for minimal staff.”

My face heats. “I thought you might be embarrassed.”

“Why?” She gives me a suspicious look. “What have I agreed to?”

“Shenanigans?” I say.

She laughs. “Okay. Shenanigans.”

“Get the list out,” I tell her.

She digs it out of her purse.

“All right. Let’s add a few—tan naked on a yacht. Go jet-skiing.”

“Naked. Really?”

“Yes.” I wink and push down my pants. “Live a little, princess. The list just got a whole lot more interesting.”

Cat hesitates, then pulls off her dress, displaying a tiny black bikini. My thoughts short out. She’s so hot. Irresistible to me. Always has been. I turn so she won’t see me ogling her.

“Aren’t you worried about tabloids?” she asks.

I strip off my T-shirt and push off my boxer briefs. “We won’t dock. And it’s the low season. I told the captain to avoid them. Plus, you’re here. Lorenzo can’t fault me for being naked with my wife.”

I turn. Cat’s eyes widen. I’m already half-hard, and I’m naked as sin.

I raise my brows at her in challenge. She holds my gaze as she undoes the ties at the sides of her bathing suit, and I freeze. The fabric spills onto the floor. I’m riveted. Perfect breasts, dusky nipples, the patch of hair hiding where I know she’s soft and wet.

I want her.

I want.

She gives me a wink and saunters over to the tanning deck.

The boat’s engines start up. I join her at the bow. For the first time with her, I feel awkward, like the boy I was at nineteen and twenty instead of the man I am today.

She gives me a brilliant smile as she lies back on the cushions at the bow. The boat moves into the harbor.

“Best place to sit,” I say.

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