Page 59 of Enemies

“Meaning let’s go.”

Twenty minutes later, we’re at the docks in town, walking amongst the tourists and those who’ve docked their yachts.

She told me to wear the T-shirt and shorts, but I changed into a short-sleeved button-down.

I might be grumpy, but I’m not a heathen.

Rae frowns at the yachts. “These boats are ridiculous.”

Her surprise makes me grin. “It’s Ibiza. The owners come here to play and to show off.”

I nod toward the nearest vessel. “The Ariadne. She’s here every summer.”

“What about that one? Dolce Vita.”

“Usually not until later in the year.”

My phone buzzes, and I frown, holding it away to read the screen.

“You do need glasses,” Rae murmurs, and I scoff.

“A sign of weakness.”

“A sign you’re smart enough to know you can’t fucking see.” Her plain tone makes me press my lips together. “And I think they’d look good on you.”

I pocket the phone, conflicted. A single word of praise from this woman turns me into a damn teenager.

“You’ve never been on one?” I nod at the yachts. “They have all manner of toys. Saunas, pool, theaters, private chefs.”

“Because there’s nothing like a meal from your private chef on a boat like that.” Her voice is dry, but there’s a hint of curiosity under the surface, as if she wants to know for sure.

“There’s nothing like fucking on a boat like that. Conquering the ocean, feeling as if nature herself can’t help but tremble along with the person beneath you.”

She turns toward me, and the expression on her face has my body heating in arousal as I think of the kiss last night.

Unplanned.

Disturbingly provocative.

Like her.

“You will play that club someday, Raegan.”

She didn’t need my belief in her last night, but she wanted it. I’ve told myself the past few weeks have been about repairing my business, that she was a tool to build Debajo back up to its prior profitability.

The fact that I’ve immensely enjoyed watching her do it is natural. It is my club, after all.

But perhaps it’s more than that.

Perhaps it’s about her.

My words have the opposite effect than the one I intend, making her frown rather than smile.

A group of tourists shoves past us, and I reach out and tug her to my side.

Her curves fit to my body, the ripeness of her breasts, the soft give between her thighs.

We could be any couple on vacation taking a break from devouring one another to enjoy the sights.

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