Page 13 of Perfect Match
As I climb up the ladder on the back of the boat, my legs wobble, and the butterflies in my stomach are doing backflips. And when we’re back on board, Gio grabs a clean towel from the pile and wraps it around my shoulders before pulling me toward him. My hands land flush against his rock-hard chest, and I let them slip down his smooth wet skin a little to his abs. A shiver dances across my skin.
“Would you like a warm shower?” he asks, his voice husky and low. His lips touch my forehead in a soft kiss, and I shiver again. It’s not that I’m cold, because the scorching sun is still beating down on us. It’s that I want him with a need that I don’t think I’ve ever experienced before. Gio, with his extravagant Italian compliments and sexy, up-front American promises, might be my ideal man.
“Are we able to use the staterooms?” I query, still unclear on what the deal is with this luxury yacht. Based on the deferencethe crew is showing Gio, he seems to be in charge, but I’m not sure.
“Of course we can.” He loosens his hold so only one arm is draped casually over my shoulders and leads me toward the spiral staircase that goes down to the staterooms.
“The owner won’t mind?” I press him to confirm, hesitating at the top of the steps.
“Tori, this is my family’s yacht. We can do anything we want on it.”
“Okayyy … So when you said the boat technically wasn’t yours, you meant it kind of was.”
“Sorry, I should have been clearer.”
“You think?” I jest as I stroke one hand across his chest. “You had me thinking that it was a company yacht and we had to be respectable … and things.”
He chuckles. “Respectable and things? I’m intrigued.” He tucks some of my wet hair behind my ear before continuing, “The yacht officially belongs to my family’s company. And I’m the one who runs the company.”
His arm drops off my shoulders, and he takes a step back so he can better see my reaction. I grab hold of the towel as it slips. The conversation, unlike our others, seems to be uncomfortable for him, as he won’t look me in the eye. I don’t get that.
I reach up to his jaw and turn his face back to me. “It’s fine. I just wanted to be sure that it was okay for us to make it messy.”
His eyes widen as he steps closer again. “How are we going to make it messy?” he asks, grinning from ear to ear.
“Lead on and I might just show you.”
We continue down the short spiral of stairs, then along a narrow passage and into what must be the main stateroom. It’s very fancy. I walk farther into the room, my bare, damp toes disappearing into the carpet that feels like I’m walking on a cloud of cotton wool. A king-size bed with a thick royal-blue satin cover dominates the room. There is even a sparkling chandelier hanging above it. Seriously, a chandelier on a boat; that’s wild.
“This is so nice,” I tell him while turning 360 degrees to take it all in, ending my spin when facing him again.
He places his hands on my shoulders, then bends to trail a few tiny kisses along my cheek, full stopping them with a lingering kiss on my lips.
“You taste so fucking delicious.”
“What, like carbonara?”
He chuckles. “No, I was thinking more like a deliciously exotic … salt-encrusted woman.”
“I’ll take that compliment.” I reach up, pull his head back down to mine, and kiss him hard. Teasing my tongue between his lips and savoring his salty taste.
When we’re both breathing heavily and in need of a lungful of air, we break apart.
“Are you still wanting a shower? Or do you have plans to get messy first? Because I have to say, I like the idea of you being messy.”
Any number of scenarios flood through my head, and the overriding image is Gio naked with water tumbling down over his broad shoulders, pumped arms, and carved chest.
“Shower,” I blurt out. “But only if you join me?”
His arms tighten around me. Then, being someone who tends to act once I make a decision, I release the tie of my bikini top from around my neck, and the straps fall to my shoulders. But I remain covered as my chest still presses close to his, keeping the fabric in place. With his gaze lowered, he takes one step back and watches transfixed as my top slips to reveal my breasts.
“Fucking beautiful,” he growls.
His eyes devour my body as his palms come up to cup my tits. The pads of his thumbs rub circles across my taut nipples, anddesire floods my bikini bottoms. His head dips to my chest, and my back arches as his mouth closes around one pebbled point while his fingers toy with the other. A moan slips out, softly at first, then louder as he sucks before filling the cabin when his teeth graze back and forth over my nipple.
Fuck, this is even better than nipple clamps. My breasts have always been super sensitive, but what he’s doing now has the potential to give me my first orgasm without any clit stimulation.
I’m barely able to remain standing. My legs are like soggy noodles, and if his arm wasn’t bracketing my hips to him, I’d collapse on the floor.
