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My orgasm bursts on me before I’m ready, but I ride it with sheer abandon. When convulsions rip through me, I roll my hips in rough, ecstatic undulations. Mason lets me fuck his mouth until my shudders die down, then he rearranges me over his body.

He plunges into my clenching sheath while I’m still twitching, and the fireworks erupt again.

He fucks me like he owns me, which I guess he does until we part, and I hang on for dear life.

We’re both bathed in sticky sweat and come by the time the sun rises. I can barely move, and all I do is purr as he pets me into sleepy bliss.

From our brief time together, I know Mason Sinclair isn’t a heart and flowers guy. So when he pushes back my hair and raises my head so he can look in my eyes, I’m prepared for a rasped command, or punishment for an overlooked slight. What I get instead strangles my breath in my throat.

“You’re fucking beautiful, kitten.Nothingthat happened to you was your fault. Wanting to explore your sexuality is nothing to be ashamed about. I know there’s more to what happened to you.” My residual pleasure takes a nosedive, but he shakes his head. “I won’t force you to tell me. But what I know is more than enough to make me pissed off that you think you don’t have anything to live for.”

My gaze drops.

“Look at me, Keely,” he demands.

I reluctantly comply.

“You’re beautiful. And you have a hell of a fucking lot to live for. If nothing else, to prove to the bastards who violated you that you’re not broken.”

“How can I, when I don’t know who they are?”

A shadow shifts through his eyes, a molten rage that he tries to hide. But I see it, because that rage lives within me too. Rage for what was done to me. Helpless rage that I can’t fight faceless ghosts.

“You may not know who they are. But they obviously know you or they wouldn’t be trying to pull you down. Do you want to give them that satisfaction?”

I shake my head.

“Then promise me you won’t try to pull that shit you did in Montauk, or anything similar, again.”

“Mason—”

“No. Promise me!” His face hardens, and although he’s beneath me, his dominance overpowers me.

I swallow, and nod. “I promise.”

Hazel eyes probe mine for a full minute before he brings me in for a long, wet kiss.

“Good. Now we can begin the day properly.”

I draw in a shaky breath. “I have to work, Mason.”

“Not until this afternoon. And not until I’ve fed you and introduced you to some other carnal delights.”

Despite my scrambling emotions, my blood quickens. “Oh? What have you in mind for me, sir?”

A wicked smile spreads across his face. “Pancakes and waffles. Then a visit to the lower deck.”

* * *

Four hours later, I’m dressed in a sexy little sundress, Mason in a dark T-shirt and jeans, and we’re sitting on a wide balcony, eating breakfast. When his phone buzzes, it’s face up, so I can’t miss the name that pops up.

Cassie. His ex-wife. The blueberries I’m chewing turn a little sour.

I look from the phone to his face when he continues to ignore it.

“I can give you privacy if you want to answer it?”

He stuffs half a waffle in his mouth and stares at me across the white-lined table. “No.”