I Broke His Rule to Get Near Him, So the Billionaire Made Me Count novel · Chapter 5 of 24

Chapter 5: Ida May

The wheelhouse door shut behind us and the latch dropped, and the whole boat went quiet around the sound of the idling engines.

I knew the Ida May the moment I stepped aboard.

I had worked four years as a deckhand on boats just like her.

I knew the worn brass of the wheel and the smell of old coffee.

I knew the chart table that folds up on a hinge under the forward window.

Dawn was coming up gray and pink over the channel.

A pilot boat cut a white line across the water a hundred yards away.

"You've been on a tug," Royce said.

"Four years," I said.

"I didn't know that."

"You never asked," I said.

"I'm asking now."

I looked at him in the half light.

He was in jeans and a gray sweater, and I had never seen him in anything but a dress shirt.

He looked younger.

He looked tired.

"Later," I said, and I took hold of the front of his sweater and pulled his mouth down to mine.

He kissed me back so hard that the backs of my knees hit the chart table.

His hands were in my hair, tearing the braid loose.

My hands went under his sweater, flat on his hot skin, running up over his ribs.

I dragged the sweater up, and he lifted his arms and let me pull it off.

His chest was broad and hard, with a scatter of dark hair, and I put my mouth on the center of it.

He tasted of salt and soap.

I slid a hand down between us and found him through his jeans, and he pushed into my palm with a groan.

"Careful," he said. "I've waited since Thursday."

"Wait longer," I said.

I opened his zipper and took him out, hot and heavy and already wet at the tip.

I stroked him once, slowly, from root to tip, and watched his eyes close.

"Turn around," he said, and his voice was rough.

"Bossy."

"Turn around, Lozano."

I turned around.

He walked me forward until my stomach pressed the chart table and my face was a foot from the glass.

"Hands on the window."

It was cold under my palms.

Out beyond it, the sun was just breaking the line of the tank farm.

A freighter sat at anchor with its deck lights still on.

Anyone on the pilot boat could have looked up and seen two shapes in the glass.

I thought about that, and my body clenched.

He pulled my jacket off my shoulders and down my arms and left it hanging at my elbows.

He lifted my shirt over my head.

He unhooked my bra with one hand and dropped it to the deck.

He cupped both my breasts from behind, his thumbs flicking my nipples until they were tight and hurting.

"Beautiful," he said into my neck.

"Yes, sir," I said.

I said it to be funny.

His hands went still.

"Don't," he said quietly. "Not as a joke."

"Then what do I call you?"

"Whatever you mean."

I thought about that while he undid my pants and pushed them to my knees.

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