Page 119 of Catching Trouble

He quirked a brow. “Like?”

I traced patterns on his chest, a jittery fizz creeping through me. “Well, seeing as you’ve already been so generous with me, I feel it’s only fair that I play catch up.”

His eyes flared. “What did you have in mind?”

“I was thinking I might conduct a survey. I know you have a decent number of tattoos already, but what if I wanted to add one of my own? I would need to know where it could fit.”

I leaned back, dragging my gaze over his body, taking in every inch of him. “Ooh!” I gasped with mock surprise. “I think I see an empty spot.”

He grinned. “Where?”

I pointed to the general area around his cock, waving my finger like a wand. “There.”

The biggest grin spread over Maxime’s lips and my whole body pulsed.

I leaned over him, whispering in his ear. “Let me stake my claim. I’ll report back soon.”

He slowly shook his head, not in protest, but more in amusement. I grinned too. It was safe to say Maxime had absolutely no idea how crazy his life would become with me in tow.

I moved down his torso, taking his length in my hand, kissing him just below his collarbone. The salt from the pool had dried on his skin, and he tasted warm and a little wild—like sun, heat, and frangipani.

With a whisper of breath, I did the same at his ribs. He shifted under me, the sheets twisting with his body. “Ticklish?” I asked, dragging my mouth lower, past the ink curling across his chest.

“No,” he said, voice gravel thick. “But if you keep going, I might forget to play nice.”

The suggestion only made me smile harder. “I can fight my own battles.”

I gripped him harder, moving past his ribs with a teasing nip. I traced his tattoos with my tongue, biting gently wherever I paused. He threw his head back, breath hissing between teeth. By the time I reached his abs, he’d nearly surrendered. Everywhere I touched burned, and when my teeth grazed the flat plane below his navel, he groaned.

“Are you sure you’re not ticklish?” I teased, brushing my lips over the dark line of hair leading lower.

He gave a low, rough laugh, but his hand stayed fisted in the sheet.

I glanced up. “Careful, Maxime. You look like you’re barely holding on.”

His breath caught, ragged. “I don’t want to hold on. I just want you.”

I raised a brow, still smiling against his skin. “I promise you have me. Forever.”

His eyes pulsed with a glow, and my heart swelled with love.

Thank the gods for the man beneath me. Thank fate he caught me in his net.

Whoever said only bad things happen at sea had clearly never known Maxime’s love. And no matter the tides, I planned to savour it for the rest of my days.

The End.

33

EPILOGUE

CHLOE

Istood behind Phyllis, Méduse’s coffee machine, like a captain standing at the helm—but there would be no icebergs today

Today was a celebration. A christening party for Iris and Luc’s baby, Amelie.

Luc officially owned the villa, so he could book the pastor at Furze’s little church. And since Maxime and I had a whole beach club—and a brilliant chef—at our disposal, why wouldn’t we host the party as a gift?