Page 49 of Ensnared
“I thought your yacht was in Nice,” I said, trying to divert the tension.
A smirk tugged at his lips. “It is. But I’m a wealthy man, Josephine. I have more than one yacht. This one isn’t as big, but it’s just as grand.”
“I have no doubt,” I murmured, brushing my hair with deliberate care, every movement an effort to maintain control.
He approached me then, closing the distance between us in a few strides, and sealed his mouth over mine. The kiss was full of passion, but I couldn’t relax. I would be trapped on the water with him, isolated, with no way to escape. It surprised me that after what happened yesterday and the tension with the caterer, he was willing to let it go—at least for now.
After I finished dressing, Colson took my hand, guiding me out of the room as if last night’s tension had dissolved into thin air. His grip was firm yet strangely gentle, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that his sudden shift in attitude was just another facetof his personality. He was keeping me close, almost possessively so, as if I might slip away if he didn’t hold on tight.
As we descended the grand staircase, he didn’t let go of my hand, his thumb tracing absent patterns on my skin. It was a disconcerting contrast to the coldness I’d felt from him just hours ago, and it kept me on edge. His unpredictable nature made me wary; every kindness felt like it could be a prelude to something more sinister.
In the limo, Colson slid in beside me, still holding my hand. His proximity was suffocating, and I could feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of my dress. He didn’t say much during the ride, only offering a few comments about the weather and the beauty of the day, but his tone was light, almost casual. It was as if the conversation at dinner hadn’t happened, as if he hadn’t demanded something so deeply personal from me.
But I wasn’t fooled. I knew better than to believe this was anything more than a temporary reprieve. Once we were on the water, away from prying eyes and ears, I feared he would show his true colors again.
When we arrived at the marina, I was struck by the sheer size of the vessel waiting for us. It wasn’t just any boat; it was a floating palace. The yacht gleamed under the morning sun, its sleek, pristine hull reflecting the light in a way that made it look almost otherworldly. It was vast, with multiple decks that seemed to stretch on forever, each one promising luxury beyond imagination.
As we approached, the captain and several crew members stood at attention on the dock, their white uniforms crisp and immaculate. Colson acknowledged them with a nod, still keeping me close, his hand never leaving mine. They greeted uswith respectful smiles, but I noticed how their eyes flicked to Colson with a mix of reverence and wariness. They knew who they were dealing with.
The yacht itself was a masterpiece of opulence. The exterior was sleek and modern, all smooth lines and polished surfaces, with expansive windows that hinted at the luxury within. As we stepped aboard, I was immediately struck by the elegance of the interior.
The deck was laid with teak wood, warm and inviting, and the outdoor lounge area was furnished with plush, cream-colored seating that looked almost too perfect to touch. The cushions were accented with navy and gold, the colors of royalty, and the tables were adorned with fresh flowers that filled the air with a subtle, intoxicating fragrance.
Inside, the main salon was nothing short of breathtaking. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the marina, and the space was filled with light that danced off the marble floors and crystal chandeliers. Every detail screamed wealth—silk drapes, hand-carved woodwork, and art that I was certain cost more than I could ever dream of. There was a grand piano in one corner, its polished black surface gleaming, and a bar stocked with an array of the finest spirits.
Colson guided me through the space, his hand on the small of my back, as if showing off a prized possession. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice soft.
“Yes,” I replied, barely able to find my voice. “It’s…incredible.”
He smiled, clearly pleased with my reaction. “This is where we’ll spend the day. Just the two of us.”
His words sent a shiver down my spine. Alone with him, in the middle of the ocean, with no one to intervene if things took a darker turn. I forced myself to breathe, to remain calm. I had to keep my wits about me, to stay one step ahead of whatever game he was playing.
As we reached the upper deck, the crew began their preparations to cast off. The yacht’s engines hummed to life, a low, powerful sound that vibrated through the entire vessel. Colson led me to a set of lounge chairs at the bow, where we could watch the marina fade into the distance as we set out to sea.
He sat beside me, still holding my hand, and for a moment, it almost felt peaceful. But I knew better. This was just the calm before the storm, and I had to be ready for whatever came next.
Chapter 19
The yacht eased out of the marina, the gentle hum of the engines vibrating through the deck beneath my feet. I watched as the coastline grew smaller, the familiar sights of land slipping away, replaced by the endless expanse of the sea. The sky was a brilliant blue, with only a few wisps of clouds, and the sun glinted off the water like scattered diamonds. It was beautiful, but the further we moved from shore, the more trapped I felt.
Colson kept a firm grip on my hand as we strolled around the deck, his demeanor relaxed, almost affectionate. He pointed out various features of the yacht—the sun deck, the hot tub, the dining area—speaking with the pride of a man who owned everything within sight. His voice was smooth, practiced, but I could sense the tension beneath it, the calculated intent behind every word.
When we reached the outdoor lounge area, he paused, gesturing to the plush couches with a smile. “Let’s sit here,” he said, guiding me to the largest of the couches.
I sank into the soft cushions, the luxurious fabric cool against my skin. Colson sat close beside me, so close that our thighs pressedtogether. The proximity made me uneasy, but I forced myself to remain still, to play along with whatever he had planned.
For a moment, we just sat there, the sound of the waves lapping against the hull filling the silence. But then, without warning, he turned to me, his eyes dark dangerously. Before I could react, his lips crashed against mine, his kiss demanding and relentless.
I stiffened at the suddenness of it, but Colson didn’t give me time to resist. His hands were on me, roaming over my body with a familiarity that made my skin crawl. He was rougher than usual, his fingers digging into my hips, my waist, as if trying to claim me all over again.
“Colson—” I started to protest, but he swallowed my words with another kiss, his tongue pushing past my lips with a hunger that sent a chill down my spine. His hand slid up my thigh, slipping under the skirt of my dress, and I could feel the tension in his grip as he reached the waistband of my thong.
“Don’t fight me, Josephine,” he murmured against my lips, his voice low and thick with desire. His fingers tugged at the delicate fabric of my thong, the movement possessive, almost cruel.
I tried to keep my breathing steady, but my heart was pounding in my chest. He was up to something; I could feel it in the way he touched me, in the intensity of his kiss. There was an edge to his movements, something that went beyond mere lust. He was testing me, pushing my limits, seeing how far he could go before I broke.
“Colson,” I managed to say, pulling back just enough to catch my breath. “What are you doing?”
