Page 54 of Roots of the Wicked

He took my hand and walked me to the side rail before placing me in front of him, hugging me from behind.

My head fell back against his chest as the breeze licked my exposed skin. Chase leaned in and kissed the top of my head before he tightened his grip around me. From the corner of my eye, I noticed the smile on his face had deepened. I rejoiced in the fact that I could make him happy.

During one of our many phone chats leading up to this trip, I had promised him I would do my best not to be so hard as he suggested I was.

Minutes later, he insisted on giving me a massage. I didn’t mind returning the favor, and he was thrilled to have my hands on him. He always started shit when I tried my hardest to be a good girl.

His ripped muscles glided under my fingers, taut and rolling when I stroked the right spots, setting my lust levels on high. For as much as Chase worked, I don’t know when he found time for the gym, but his body spoke of the time he dedicated.

His skin was buttery soft, but his muscles were firm and toned underneath, the perfect combination to highlight his maleness and entice me to explore every part of him. His back when he flexed it just right, made me wet. I was generous with my affection, groping and caressing all six-foot-four inches of him. There wasn’t a part of him I hadn’t checked out.

After my detailed exploration, I surveyed his handsome face with the ability to go from innocent to charming to demanding in a heartbeat. However, the emotion I saw reflected in his heavy gaze stopped me. There was enough passion pouring from him that I felt what he was putting out. Did it mean he saw the same thing from me?

I kissed him, not knowing what to do with the unnerving bundle of emotions fluttering in my belly. I straddled his lap to get closer without breaking the kiss. When the body contact didn’t turn me into an inferno of sexual tension, I knew that something different was happening with us. Sex couldn’t rescue me from the torrent of this fantastic storm, and from the looks of it, Chase was caught in the surge.

The intercom buzzed, startling us. We were so lost in each other that the cook, summoning us to dinner, had been the only thing to break us apart. He pulled on a T-shirt as I donned my swim cover-up.

We entered the beautiful interior of the yacht and took our seats at the dining table elegantly set for our meal. The full-sized kitchen and dining room, the boat’s galley, I had caught a glimpse of earlier, sat off the stairs and opposite the hall leading to the sleeping quarters.

Chase must have informed his staff of my love of seafood, because our dinner consisted of delicious shrimp etouffee over a bed of fluffy white rice, a pot of steamed split lobster tails and scallops, and fluffy seafood biscuits. I didn’t know which of us had started the conversation, but we had latched on to the topic of marriage, of all things.

“I don’t think a couple needs to be married to be happy. It’s just a piece of paper that provides no real purpose that I can see. Think of all the marriages based on everything except love, like financial gain or citizenship. Marriage is no longer looked at like it used to be, nor is it respected like it once was.”

He nodded at my argument and prepared to start his own.

“I agree somewhat, but what makes the connection more meaningful is the act of having the ceremony, of sharing your happiness with friends and family, of a couple having their union blessed. It adds more significance to it simply being a piece of paper.”

My brows pinched in thought, as I chewed on a piece of the tasty lobster.

“So, you’re saying two individuals that are together and not married, their relationship is less meaningful than the ones that have been legally married.”

He shook his head at me.

“That is not what I’m saying and you know it. Let’s say we’ve been together a year. We don’t have any plans to get married because we’re happy just the way we are. However, six months later we decided to get married anyway. The marriage legalizes us, makes our union more binding in the public’s eye, it says to the world this is my wife or my husband by law. I’m worth a lot of money and knowing my brother the way that I do, he would sink his claws into every dime I have. With you and I married, all I own would be left to you.”

I lifted a brow. The notion that he would leave me everything, although we were speaking in example, had me feeling warm and wanted.

“Okay, you make a good point looking at it from a legal standpoint, but a will is a piece of paper that can do the same thing.”

Our healthy debate about whether or not marriage was a necessity in this day and age went on for about thirty minutes. I enjoyed this bantering with him. Most of our phone conversations had been the same way, our way of learning about each other’s views.

I consumed half my meal because I didn’t want to carry around the fullness later. I had resisted Chase sexually, for as long as I could, and there was no telling what would get unleashed when we closed the door to our sleeping quarters.

Judging by the way he watched me, it was safe to say he felt the same.

“I’m going to skip dessert and go and take a shower,” I announced, as I marched my fingers across his shoulders on my way. His wide grin and the spark of mischief in his gaze spoke volumes, letting me know he knew what I was thinking about.

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