Page 44 of Forbidden Fruit

"Maybe because it’s where you belong."

My lips crash into his, a fervent, insatiable hunger driving us both. This kiss is nothing like the one we shared last night—raw, primal, and consuming. His beard scratches deliciously against my skin, igniting a fiery desire as our mouths meld together. I savor the taste of salt water mingled with a scent that is uniquely him.

His arms grip me tighter, crushing me against his solid chest. We sink into the moment, only to rise again, our breathless laughter mingling with the electricity between us.

"You make me feel alive," I confess, my fingers tracing his jawline. "I've been sleepwalking for so long."

"I've wanted to wake you since the first day I met you," he admits, his forehead resting against mine. "You deserve so much more than what you've settled for."

The truth of his words hits me hard. I have been settling—in my relationship, parts of my career, and how I've let others define me.

"I don't want to settle anymore," I tell him, meaning every word.

He kisses me again, his hands roaming up my back, fingers weaving through my wet hair as he holds my head with a possessive grip. The ocean cradles us, rocking sensually as we cling to each other, our bodies entwined and buoyant in the crystal-clear water.

I wrap my legs around his waist, pressing myself against the stiff, defined muscles of his body. There's nothing between us but the whisper of fabric and the warm, inviting Caribbean water. His hands slide to support me, firm and confident beneath my thighs, igniting a fiery desire between us.

"We should probably get back to the yacht," he murmurs against my neck, his voice rough.

"Probably," I agree, but make no move to let go. Instead, I kiss Clive again, feeling bold and free in a way I've never experienced.

As we finally break apart, his eyes burn with an intense desire that sends a shiver through me. We swim back to the yacht, our eyes locked in heated glances between each stroke. He swiftly lifts me onto the deck, his hands lingering on my waist, igniting a fire beneath my skin.

On board, the air sizzles as reality quickly sets in.This is happening.

Water cascades down his chest, and I ache to follow their trail with my fingertips. He hands me a towel, but the brush of his fingers against mine is like a spark, igniting a flame that threatens to consume us both.

"Should we head back?" he asks, though he doesn't move toward the controls.

"Is that what you want?" I step closer to him.

His hand rises to cup my cheek, his thumb gently brushing away a droplet of water. "Rebecca, you know what I want," he whispers, using my full name. But if we don't stop now..."

"Maybe I don't want to stop," I answer, surprising myself with my boldness.

His eyes search mine, looking for any hesitation. Finding none, he pulls me against him, his mouth claiming mine with an intensity that makes my knees weak. I melt into him, my hands exploring the broad expanse of his shoulders and the strong column of his neck.

We stumble backward until my back meets the cabin door. Clive breaks the kiss long enough to look at me questioningly. In answer, I reach behind me and turn the handle, pulling him with me into the cool shade of the cabin.

Inside, time seems to slow. Sunlight filters through small windows, casting dappled patterns across the simple space. A bed, covered in crisp white linens, takes up most of the room.

"Are you sure?" Clive asks, his voice husky.

I nod, unable to find words for how sure I feel. More sure than I've felt about anything in years.

His hands are gentle as they slide my wet bikini straps from my shoulders. I reach for the tie at my back, loosening it and letting the top fall between us. His sharp intake of breath makes me flush with pleasure rather than embarrassment.

"You're exquisite," he murmurs, eyes taking me in with reverence.

My fingers trace the waistband of his swim shorts. "So are you."

Becca

We take our time, learning each other's bodies in the gentle rolling of the anchored yacht. Clive's touch is confident but tender, finding places that make me gasp and arch against him. When his lips trace down my neck to my collarbone, I feel like I'm dissolving into pure sensation. Each touch is deliberate and worshipful. It isn't the rushed, mechanical intimacy I've grown accustomed to with Jack. This is something else entirely—something that makes me feel both vulnerable and powerful at once.

"Clive," I whisper as his hands slide down my sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

He looks up at me, his blue eyes dark with desire, but he still questions, making sure. "Yes?"

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