Page 67 of Sinful Promise

I open the drawer holding all my swimsuits and pull out a skimpy bikini, one of many. This one is hand-crocheted and looks amazing. I’ve never been outside my bedroom with so little on, but it’s not like we’re at a public beach. We’re on the yacht. No one will mind.

I check my reflection in the mirror. I look pale in a white bikini. The sun will be good for me. I love the swimsuit, even if it’s revealing. I smile, remembering Irina in hers. Now, I’m beginning to feel like I belong. My father would disapprove, and I smile again. I relish that he’s not here to tell me what to do.

I pull a matching cover-up off a hanger. It opens in the front, and I loosely tie the fabric belt. I feel naked, but it’s time I step outside of my comfort zone. I brush my hair out and pull it up into a messy bun. I’ll have to do something special with it when I wear those earrings.

I make my way down to the main deck, where I expect to find Roman. Instead, I’m the only one there. There are bowls of shrimp on ice set up on the bar, but oddly, no crew. I’m getting nervous. My heartbeat and breathing quicken.

Except for the lapping of the water, it’s quiet, too quiet. I’ve never felt so utterly alone as I do at this moment. It doesn’t matter what I have or where I am if there is no one beside me to watch the sunset or talk to at the end of the day.

I hope everything is okay. I step behind the bar and find a bottle of Italian red wine. It has the rooster logo on it, so according to Irina, it must be good.

I find the bottle opener, and after a short struggle, the cork comes out with a pop. I pour the liquid courage into a wine glass and lift the glass to my nose, inhaling deeply. Picturing myself, I chuckle because I have no idea why people sniff wine. I’m merely copying what I’ve seen others do. The wine smells nice. I take a sip. It’s very good. Not too dry, not too sweet.

I take another sip and help myself to a shrimp cocktail. I slowly chew, stare at the rugged coastline, and wonder what Alex and Irina are doing.

“You’re awake.”

Startled, I turn to find Roman in his swimsuit, dripping wet. Water beads on his buff torso. He has a towel slung over his shoulder. He must have been sunning because he’s tanned and looks sinfully roughish with a day’s growth of beard. His hungry eyes devour me as he approaches. I’ve seen men look at Katsia like that and never dreamed a man would look at me the same way.

I nervously swallow the shrimp in one gulp. I’m paralyzed and can’t take my eyes off him. Within two long strides, he’s in my space. I take another sip of wine.

“I can see you’re making yourself at home.”

“I didn’t know what to do. I…”

“I’m teasing you, little bird. I want you to spread those wings.” He unties the belt to my cover-up and opens it to gaze at my body. My nipples harden, and I know he sees them through the suit made of yarn. He slowly pushes the cover off my shoulders and lets it float to the ground.

“I didn’t know what to wear,” I begin, but his kiss cut off my explanation.

I part my lips and allow his tongue into my mouth. He takes the towel off his shoulder and wraps it around my hips to pull me against his hard body. The friction of my nipples against his hairy chest makes my pussy slick. I want him. I need him. I return his kiss, enjoying the coolness of his mouth and the heat of his body.

Running my fingers through his damp hair, I fist and tug it as my hips grind against his pelvis, and feel his cock come alive. I slide my hand inside his swim trunks and grab his cock because he likes me to touch him. When I hear the sharp inhalation of his breath, all I want is to make him gasp again.

“You look amazing, Dasha.” His hands travel down my back and grab my buttocks so hard, they lift me an inch off the ground. “I want you.”

“What if the others return?”

“We’re meeting them in town.”

My knees buckle, and I moan when his fingers slip into my pussy.

“Just as I thought. You’re wet for me. Dasha, what am I to do with you?” The growl he uses turns me on.

“I’m sure you can think of something,” I reply, so excited I can barely breathe. Did I just say that?

“That I can.” And with that, he unties my bikini top and snags the bottoms. Both pieces fall to the deck.

He shucks his swimming trunks.

“What about the crew?”

“I sent everyone ashore. They’ll be gone for hours.”

He scoops me up into his arms, carries me to a cushion used for sunbathing, and places me on it. “I think you need some sun,” he teases as he spreads my legs.

“Someone will see,” I protest.

“It’s my yacht, my rules.”

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