Page 148 of Dirty Damage

The water has always been his escape, but it also took everything from him.

That’s how most love goes, in my experience. In Oleg’s, too.

The things you hold close can hurt you the most.

Which is why I’m determined to prove him wrong.

His arm tightens around my waist as we rock together, using my body as an anchor against whatever he’s wading through.

“I’m with you,” I whisper, reaching back to tangle my fingers in his hair. “I’m here.”

He stiffens for a moment, his rhythm faltering. Then he growls and snaps his hips harder, as if trying to drive the tenderness from my voice with the force of his thrusts.

This orgasm builds slower than the first, but it’s deep, rocking me to my very core. When it takes me, I scream into the wind. Oleg buries his own sound in my shoulder, his breath warm against my skin.

We slide to the deck together. The wood is smooth against my back as I stare up at the cloudless sky.

Beside me, Oleg’s breathing is ragged.

“Five minutes,” he says roughly. “Then we go again.”

I turn my head to look at him, noting the way his jaw clenches, the tight line of his shoulders. “Are we going for some kind of record?”

“You’re ovulating, aren’t you?” he barks. “We should make the most of it.”

Right. Business. This is still business.

But I can’t quite convince myself of that now. Oleg didn’t bring me here because of a contract.

Something else is happening.

“And we have,” I say softly, watching his profile tighten. “But getting pregnant takes time. We already talked about this. For some couples, it can take months or?—”

“Years?” He tears away from me, surging to his feet. “No. I don’t have fucking years.”

The sudden violence of his movement makes me flinch, old instincts kicking in. I pull my dress around myself like armor as he paces the deck.

The silence looms between us, broken only by the slap of waves against the hull and the distant cry of seabirds.

I wait, hoping he’ll explain what’s really bothering him, but he just keeps pacing, each turn bringing him closer to the edge of something I can’t quite see.

Finally, I pull myself up, gripping the railing for support. The metal is still warm from where we just?—

But I push that thought away. Right now, I need to focus.

“Do you want to tell me what’s really going on?”

“Nothing’s going on.”

“Right. Because this little boat trip of yours has no ulterior motive other than the pleasure of my company.”

He stops pacing and stops a few feet away from me, his eyes flashing. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that the ocean is your safe place. You come here when you need to think, when you need space. So if we’re spending days out here, something’s wrong.”

He stops pacing to glare at me, a vein pulsing in his forehead. “Maybe I just wanted a good fuck.”

I flinch but refuse to back down. “Well you got one. Two, actually.”

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