Page 48 of Forbidden Fruit

I lean forward to kiss her forehead. "I'll grab us some clothes."

I find Becca a soft white button-down shirt that falls to mid-thigh on her and a pair of my shorts that she has to roll at the waist several times. She looks adorably rumpled and utterly sexy in my clothes.

We climb to the upper deck with a bottle of chilled Sancerre and two glasses. As the sun dips toward the horizon, the sky is already beginning to blush with pinks and oranges. I arrange cushions at the stern, creating a makeshift nest for us.

"It's beautiful," she whispers as I pour the wine.

"Yes, it is." But I'm not looking at the sunset.

She catches me staring and blushes, taking the glass I offer. "I've never done anything like this before."

"Like what? Watched a sunset?"

"You know what I mean." She takes a sip of wine. "Thrown caution to the wind and did precisely what I wanted to do.”

I settle beside her, our shoulders touching. "Does it feel good?"

Her smile is slow, a little wicked around the edges. "It feels incredible."

We sit in comfortable silence as the sky transforms, the clouds catching fire with gold and crimson. The water reflects it all, turning the sea into a liquid flame. My phone buzzes again from below deck, but it sounds distant and unimportant.

Neither of us acknowledges the intrusion. Instead, Becca shifts closer, her head finding the perfect spot on my shoulder. I wrap my arm around her, drawing her closer.

"I've never seen colors like this," she murmurs, sipping her wine. "It's like the sky is putting on a show just for us."

I press my lips to her temple, breathing in the scent of her hair. "Maybe it is."

The sun continues its descent, a molten orange fire sinking into the darkening sea. The first stars appear overhead, pinpricks of silver against the deepening blue. Out here, away from the city lights, they'll soon blanket the sky.

"Do you know the constellations?" she asks, tilting her face to the emerging stars.

"Some," I admit. "But I'd rather make up our own."

She laughs, the sound pure and unrestrained. "Like what?"

I point to a cluster of stars overhead. "That's clearly the Wine Glass. And there—" I trace another pattern with my finger, "—that's the Goddess, with her hair flowing behind her."

Becca squints up, trying to follow my imaginary lines. "I don't see it."

"Right there." I take her hand, guiding her finger to trace the shape. "That's her face, and her arm extends there..."

"Oh!" Her face lights up with childlike wonder. "I see it now!"

I lower our joined hands but don't release hers. Becca's fingers are small in mine, delicate yet strong. The contrast reminds me of everything about her that's captured me—her vulnerability, resilience, and softness hiding a steel core.

"What are you thinking about?" she asks, her voice hushed in the growing darkness.

"How I've never wanted to protect someone the way I want to protect you," I answer honestly, the words slipping out before I can censor them.

She faces me fully, her expression serious in the fading light. "I don't need protecting, Clive."

"I know." I brush a strand of hair from her face. "That makes me want to do it all the more."

The last sliver of sun disappears, leaving us in the gentle glow of the yacht's ambient lighting and the strengthening starlight. I set aside my empty glass and take hers, placing it safely on the deck. Then I pull her onto my lap, her legs straddling mine.

"What I mean is," I continue, my hands settling on her hips, "I want to be the person you can lean on when you need to. Not because you can't stand on your own, but because sometimes it's nice not to have to."

Becca’s eyes search mine for something—sincerity, perhaps, or deception. I hold her gaze steadily, letting her see everything I'm not yet ready to put into words.

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