Page 39 of The Southern Submission

“Thank you, Muffin, just what every man wants to hear.”

I laugh at her expression of disdain when I turn to her and see her looking between me and the yacht as it comes into view. I chuckle and pull her by the hand along the dock in the private marina off the Georgia coast where the yacht is moored. She’s letting me touch her far more tonight, even when it’s not for show and I’m taking every opportunity she’ll allow me to do it.

“I told you it has lots of space.”

“You said you had a boat. This is basically acruise ship. The two are not the same. I was expecting something else entirely,” she mumbles as we board the yacht.

“I’ll let you berate me about the differences all you want later, but first, you have to meet the small crew who’ll be on board with us.” I wave at the people waiting in the main cabin. “Ainsley, this is Captain Roycroft. Evans is our chef. Grant, Eamonn, and Brockway are our deckhands. Everyone, this is my girlfriend, Ainsley Montgomery. She’ll be staying with me and should be afforded the same treatment and respect you’d use for me,” I direct to the crew, whom I’ve already messaged this information to but figured Ainsley would benefit from hearing it as well.

She squeezes my hand in warning, and when I look down at her, she gives me a murderous look that’s not well-hidden before she schools her face and returns her eyes to the crew. “Nice to meet you.”

“We’ll have our food in my cabin whenever it’s ready, Evans,” I instruct.

“Yes, sir. Your requests were received and I delivered your meals myself a moment before you arrived,” Evans responds with a nod.

“Perfect timing. Thank you,” I say before turning us away and leading Ainsley toward a hallway into the heart of the yacht.

“I’mstaying with you?” Ainsley whispers in indignation as she follows along, her hand tugging to be released from my grip. I hold on tighter. “I thoughtthis boat had spacewas code for I would have my own room and spending the weekend with you meant I’d see you in common areas only, not that I’d be staying in the same room as you.” Now she sounds pissed.

“Of course you’re staying with me. My staff is discreet, but even they can’t know about this arrangement. Outside of us,everyone has to believe this is real.” I push into my room, wishing it could be real for us, too. The huge bed looks more than inviting after a week that took more from me than I care to admit.

“There’s only one bed,” she says, sounding positively mortified.

“Yes, and it’s nice and big, but if you want to cuddle, I won’t mind.” I smile as she rounds on me, her hazel eyes flashing angrily at my humor.

“This isn’t a good idea. In fact, it’s terrible. We shouldn’t be in the same room, let alone the same bed. This is all wrong.”

I drop her bag on the floor and walk her over to the bed she’s so worried about until her knees hit the edge and she’s forced to sit, then lie back. I keep moving until I’m hovering over her body, feeling her chest heave under mine as I hold myself on my forearms above her.

“What are you so worried about, Muffin? Think you won’t be able to keep your hands off me if you have to sleep next to me? Or maybe you’re worried about having a naughty dream and I’ll hear you moaning my name and grinding against me looking for a release?” I roll my hips against hers for the briefest moment and feel her unconsciously rise to meet me before I’ve lifted again. “Or maybe I’ll see you unguarded and raw, and that scares you more than anything else.” I trace the soft curve of her cheek with my finger as she stays silent below me, her face pink and her eyes simmering pools of golden-flecked amber in the low light.

Her small hands find my chest, but instead of pushing me away as expected, she leaves them there, tentatively curling into my shirt as if she’s fighting the urge to pull me against her. I decide for her and move away, her hands dropping as I do. I walk into the closet, hanging my jacket before returning andfinding her holding her face on the edge of the bed where I left her.

“You’re a real mind fucker.” She scowls up at me.

“When was the last time you ate?” I nod at the small table and chairs where the dinner service is set up. “Maybe you’ll be a little nicer after we get some food in you.”

“I don’t do nice with arrogant assholes who aren’t used to hearing no.”

Her face is set in that perpetual pout that’s way too cute.

“I’m fine with hearing no, Spitfire. I just think you need someone else to take control and give you a chance to relax for a change. You’re so rigid and stuck in this angry, prickly thing you have going that you’re missing out on a whole lot of the fun life offers. We’re going to work on that together. Starting right now.”

Ainsley visibly bristles as she rises to her feet, still considerably shorter than me even in heels, and stomps toward me.

“The audacity you have is unmatched. I have no interest in working on anything with you.”

“Wrong. You’ve agreed to be my girlfriend, you’ve joined me here, and you’ve come at my hand turning your ass red. You fucking loved giving up control and submitting to me because you trusted me to give you what you needed. You’re going to work on a shit ton with me, and it starts right the fuck now, Princess. Now sit on my lap so I can take your shoes off and feed you some fucking dinner.”

I sit at the table and pull her down onto my lap, settling her on my thighs as she squeals in protest. She’s in the sweetest silky pink skirt that floats around her thighs and lets me feel the heat of her on my legs. I toe off her heels under the table and kick them away so her feet dangle above the ground. God, I love that she’s fun-sized and fits perfectly right here againstmy chest, her head lower than mine so I can see over her, and my body wider than hers so it’s easy enough to move around her.

“Payton,” she warns once she realizes I’m not joking. “I’m not a fucking child who needs to be fed.” She vibrates in frustration against me, not sure what to do with herself and me as I push her need for control and independence that wars with her need to be taken care of.

I’ve already boxed her in with my arms to uncover the trays of perfectly cooked chicken, mashed potatoes, and vegetables on the table. “Relax and let me take care of you, Ainsley.”

She turns her head and looks at my profile, and I pause from cutting the food on the plate to meet her stare.

“Why the hell do you want to take care of me? You’ve said that a few times when we’ve been together. What delusional world do you live in where that’s the default for a perfect stranger who has never asked you for anything?”

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