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“You want to come on my cock right here where anybody could watch?”

“We can’t do it here. They’ll kick us out.”

“This is a high-end boutique retailer with a hundred grand worth of dresses on that hanger they want to sell. You think they turn down commission because we want to fuck?” The vibration from his soft laugh sinks down to my bones. “Roll that hem up for me, baby. Show me how much you want to break the rules.”

My head is in a daze. I’m already blown away by today’s extravagance, but this is my favourite part of the morning so far. A gorgeous boy who is as besotted with me as I am with him, indulging me in what’s quickly becoming a kink, the threat of imminent discovery.

So, I carefully take the hem in my fingers, slowly, slowly, slowly rolling the fabric up my legs, exposing them inch by inch. Playing into his hands and enjoying myself in a way I never would have dreamed would excite me the way it does.

His mouth fastens over the swollen bud and when his fingers thrust into my pussy, the hazy glow is so all-encompassing that I no longer care what rules we’re breaking.

All that exists in this moment is Kincaid’s eager tongue and greedy hands.

And when my clit pulses with need, tender, and he breaks off, eyes staring up at mine as he orders me to come?

I obey.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE

FRANCESCA

After my experiencesof the morning—in the clothing boutique, in the car, twice more in the lavish hotel room—I don’t think the day can get any better, but the launch tied to the dock absolutely blows my mind.

It’s enormous, the top deck with enough room to hold a party, the middle deck configured with four different seated conversation areas, and a plethora of cabins inside and below.

My stomach lurches when we hit the swells of the outer harbour but after a few minutes’ worth of adjustment, I’m fine. Deck staff circulate with trays holding canapes or glasses of bubbles. As the late afternoon sun hits the deck, I squint, barely able to believe today is really happening.

“This is wonderful,” I tell Kincaid, holding his arm in a death grip, scared if I let go the entire magical day will disappear. “Does your uncle own the boat?”

“Not this one, but he does have a launch moored over in Sydney.” Rays of light turn his amber eyes warm as a fireplace as he reads my face. “If you want, we could fly over there for a long weekend and travel around the bays.”

“Oh, I want.”

He chuckles, fingers spreading possessively over my hip as he pulls me closer. “Then I’ll organise it. Maybe in the October school holidays.”

I tuck myself against him, arm leaning against his rib cage, feeling cherished. There are too many amazing sights to keep track of, and I let the beautiful view float in and out of my head, cataloguing a thousand images to pick over later.

“Here’s the jewellery,” he whispers when I’d almost forgotten the reason for this trip.

A trio of women in form fitting black dresses assemble on the deck, flashing their legs and wearing statement pieces that contain so many large gemstones, it seems impossible they aren’t fake.

“Does anything catch your eye?”

Just staring at the assortment makes me nervous, like one wrong step will send millions of dollars flying over the railing into a watery grave. “Everything is so expensive I’d be scared to wear it.”

Kincaid has his arm around my shoulder and gives a squeeze. “It’s insured. And nobody’s going to force you to wear the crown jewels, there are simpler pieces.” I must still look nervous, because he whispers, “Don’t worry. We can look once everyone else has made their selection.”

Lance’s date oohs and aahs over almost every piece, draping the jewels across her arm to see them sparkle, testing how well they suit her skin tones.

He pays little attention, his focus narrowing instead on the youngest of the three saleswomen. A girl whose shy blushes and hesitation show she hasn’t been in the role long.

Although his expression remains pleasant, the intensity of his gaze disturbs me. It’s like watching a lamb tug at its woolly coat to reveal glimpses of the salivating wolf hidden underneath.

After a few minutes, I step away from the display, excusing myself to go inside the cabin and fetch a bottle of water. After the glass of champagne in the boutique, and the one offered when I stepped on board, I need a palate cleanser.

The extravagance of the situation alone is inebriating enough for me.

A deck hand shows me to the galley and a well-stocked fridge. I take a chilled bottle, then look along the spritzers I can add for flavour. With additions of lime and pepper, I head back towards the main deck, then stop at the sound of voices ahead of me.