Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
No!
I yank my arm out, wincing at my soaked Band-Aid. I’m too embarrassed to even look at Cristiano.
“Here, come,” Cristiano tells me. “We can put on a new bandage inside.”
He’s already rising out of the pool, stepping over the ledge and reaching for two neatly rolled towels arranged on a lounger nearby.
I didn’t mean to leap off him so suddenly, but now…
I can’t help myself from looking at the bulge beneath his swim trunks. Oh. My eyes widen, then I look away as I quickly adjust my top. All that come hither energy has been zapped out of me. Now that Cristiano has temporarily burned off the edges of my desire, insecurity starts to rush in in its wake.
I don’t look at him as I climb out of the pool and try to accept the towel he holds open for me. He doesn’t let go of it, and I realize that he intends to wrap me up inside of it, burrito style.
I laugh.
And it feels so good, chipping away at my nerves.
Finally I meet his eyes with a shy smile. “I feel like I should say thank you.”
He tips his head in question. “For the towel?”
I bite down on my bottom lip as a flush spreads up my neck. “No. The other thing.”
His dimples frame his panty-melting smile as he nods. “Come on. There’s a first aid kit down in my room.”
Cristiano leads me back down the stairs. Beth passes us in the hall, and there’s no hint of recognition in her expression regarding what Cristiano and I have just done. She asks if we need anything, and Cristiano tells her to bring a few bottles of water to his stateroom.
She gives a reverent nod. “Right away, sir.”
I arch my brow at Cristiano, and he pushes me on. “I forget sometimes how important you are. I should be calling you sir,” I tease.
“It’s a little late for that now…” He prods me forward. “Come on. If we linger much longer, the others will notice.”
I glance at him from the corners of my eyes. “Would you care? If they did?” I hate that my voice comes out a little weak.
He frowns at the assumption. “No. I wasn’t sure if you did. I’d rather give you the option to keep this between us if you want.”
“Oh.”
I look away and give myself a little shake. This is so strange. Cristiano just had me writhing on his lap. He’s felt every inch of me and now here we are, strolling through the hallway of his yacht as if everything is perfectly normal.
In the bathroom of his stateroom, I lean up against the counter and lift my arm out of the towel for Cristiano when he asks for it. The bandage is already slipping off, so he helps it the rest of the way. He’s gentle about it, not wanting the sticky residue to pull or hurt my skin.
“It’s fine,” I assure him, trying to ignore that pang in my chest as I watch him fuss over me.
Once my small tattoo is exposed, he carefully cleans it with soap and warm water.
“Is it waves?” he asks, studying it with a furrowed brow.
“Yes, it’s meant to be waves concealing an acronym: w-w-w-d.”
He continues frowning as he considers what it could mean.
“What would Winnie do,” I supply quickly, but I don’t give him a moment to pause over it before I launch into a question of my own. “How often do you come out here?”
He tosses the washcloth in the hamper and bends down to root around in a cabinet. “Not as often as I should. Work keeps me busy.”
“Work. Hmm,” I reply, marveling at his luxurious bathroom. “What motivates you to keep going when you already have so much?”
I ask because I need to find some motivation of my own. I’ve been starting to have a hard time reconciling the idea of going back to work at De Vere once the summer is over.
Cristiano gives me a wry smile. “World domination.”
“Oh, really?”
He shrugs and tugs out a plastic bin filled with first aid supplies. “I’d settle for the northern hemisphere…”
I can’t help but laugh. “Be serious. Tell me how you got started. Were you an overnight success?”
He turns to face me, his hip resting against the counter. “No. Definitely not.”
“Is your family in this same business? I’m trying to remember if Lita ever told me about your parents.”
He gets to work opening a Band-Aid. “No. My mom never worked, and my father was in finance for a long time, but not anymore.”
“Did he retire?”
He clears his throat. “Not by choice.”
I frown. “Sorry, I shouldn’t pry.”
He closes his eyes briefly, like he’s steeling himself for this conversation. I wish I hadn’t brought it up, but I can’t help my curiosity; I want to know more about him. Right now he’s so shiny and perfect, a handsome man on a fancy yacht. I don’t buy it, though; no one’s life is that perfect.