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I kiss him again, tugging on his bottom lip with my teeth, and finally his control snaps.

He gently pushes me up against my door, like he had that first night, and crushes his lips against mine.

His hands angle my jaw so he can deepen the kiss and my knees buckle.

My hands fly to the back of his head, pulling on his hair at the nape of his neck and with a groan, he presses his body harder against mine.

We kiss like this, all teeth and lips and tongue, until we’re panting, coming up for air only to get lost in each other’s mouth again.

“Are you sure?” He pulls away at last, tracing a finger over my lips .

I walk backwards away from him, never breaking eye contact. Reaching behind me, I turn the handle on his cabin door and open it.

“I’ve never been surer about anything.”

He’s in front of me in two quick steps, his mouth fusing to mine again. We stumble into his bedroom, my legs only just keeping me upright they’re shaking so violently.

“Once we do this, Cherry. There’s no going back,” he says like a man who never wants to go back.

“Good.” I turn away from him and walk back to close the door. “This is right where I want to be.”

His lips stretch into a sexy grin, his eyes sweeping over me as he crooks a finger at me. “Come here,” he commands.

My body simmers with anticipation. I follow his lead, stepping into him until we’re standing mere inches apart, staring at each other as the air crackles with tension. I feel it thrumming through my veins, like my blood is on fire. Like I’ll die if I can’t be with him right now.

I look around, my eyes tripping over to the wall next to us. “Just one more thing.” I lean over and flick the light switch, leaving the room bathed in the glow of the afternoon sunlight. “It’s lights out…”

His mouth curls with recognition and he pulls me against him.

And away we go…

· · · · ·

If I had thought the first week sailing the French Riviera with Nicky was something out of a dream, then the second week is something beyond my wildest imagination.

After our night together, I know I’m head over heels in love with Nicky.

This is not the crush I’ve nurtured over the years; the way my heart beats now, it beats just for him.

And I don’t know if it’s wishful thinking or my romantic soul taking over, but I’m sensing maybe he could feel the same way about me.

It’s in the way he holds me, like he wants to burrow under my skin.

It’s in the way he looks at me, like he never wants to stop looking.

It’s in the way his heart beats in his chest when we’re kissing, like it’s thumping in beat with mine.

We’re in such a delicious bubble of sun-soaked days and long passionate nights that there’s little room to worry about what’s going to happen next.

“What should we do tomorrow?” Nicky asks from his sun-lounger next to mine.

He’s wearing a pair of white, red and navy-blue swimming shorts and a bright smile.

After all this time in the Mediterranean sun, his skin is a deep golden colour and looking as he does now, he could walk straight off this yacht and onto a magazine cover, no problem.

Me, on the other hand? I’m still pasty white, with just a few thousand more freckles to add to my collection.

I roll onto my front and lay my head on my crossed arms under me. Today we’ve managed breakfast and the short stroll to the sundeck, where we’ve dozed off in the morning light, content to lounge in comfortable silence.

“Don’t care,” I mumble with my eyes closed.

“We could stop somewhere and go out for dinner?”

Hmm, that would involve getting dressed and sharing him with other people.

“Veto.”

His laugh warms my belly and I smile at him. Whereas the yachting version of Cherry is slothful and a little dishevelled, this version of Nicky is the best one yet. He’s relaxed and quick to smile, the frown lines on his forehead all but gone .

I’m not looking forward to going back to real life and watching the tension take hold of his shoulders again.

“Okay, we’ll stay here.”

At this stage, it feels like he would agree to just about anything to please me. Including watching hours of Below Deck Sailing Yacht in the saloon with me when the weather isn’t cooperating. So far, we’ve watched season two—otherwise known as the best season—and I can tell he’s hooked.

Who knew he’d turn out to be such a fan of Bravo shows?

“Mr Dimitrios?” Rachel calls out from somewhere behind us.

He raises his sunglasses. “Yes?”

She nibbles on her lower lip, shifting like she’s uncomfortable. “The captain wanted me to tell you there’s an urgent call you need to take.”

My stomach clenches and I bolt upright. Nicky does the same, gracefully jumping to his feet, his brow furrowed as he walks towards her.

“It’s from a Frieda?” Rachel continues.

Oh. Well, that can’t be the worst-case scenario that had been floating through my mind in the last several seconds.

“Frieda?” Nicky’s frown grows darker. “Can you tell her I’ll call her back?”

Rachel hesitates before nodding. “Sure.”

We watch her disappear down the ladder and he sinks back down, this time sharing my sun-lounger with me.

“I thought—” he starts.

“I know…” I squeeze his hand. After letting our loved ones know we were going ‘off-grid’ and to contact the captain if there was anything urgent, we both turned our phones off. So, when someone actually does that, your mind can’t help but think the worst .

“What do you think she wants?” I ask finally. If Frieda is desperate enough to contact Nicky this way when he did not want to be disturbed, then it’s got to be pretty important news.

Or pretty bad news.

“I’d better call her and find out.” He heaves a sigh, the muscles in his shoulders bunching as he stands. “I’ll be right back.”

I nod, watching him leave with knots lining my stomach. It’s been so blissful here in our little world, and I have a terrible feeling that this bubble we’ve created is about to burst.

Too restless now to enjoy lounging like a lizard, I head back down to our cabin, crossing my fingers it’s good news. I slow my steps as I catch Nicky pacing around the saloon, clutching the back of his neck with his hand, while on the phone with Frieda. His words are coming out sharp and clipped.

“I’ll call you back,” he pauses. “Yeah, we’ll sort it out.”

Hanging up the call with a stabbing finger, he stops pacing and stares off into space. I take several steps closer to him and clear my throat.

“What’s going on?” I ask, wringing my fingers when he just stands, now staring at me. Not saying anything. “Nicky, you’ve got me worried.”

A flash of something darts over him and he walks over to me, pushing me down into the plush sofa behind me before taking a seat on the coffee table to face me.

“That was Frieda,” he says, starting with the obvious.

I take his hand. “Yes, I know.”

He sucks in a deep, deep breath. “I was hoping we could avoid this until we’d discussed it all properly…”

Spit it out, already!

“Discuss what?”

He hands me his phone. “This. ”

I take it from him and gasp. “W-what?”

“It was published this morning,” he says, his tone sharp as a razor. Nicky is pissed. “They didn’t even contact Frieda for a comment, feeling the photo is enough confirmation to publish the story.”

The photo is of me and Nicky locked in each other’s arms on the top deck of the yacht.

From the clothes we’re wearing, it was taken nights ago, after we’d spent the afternoon exploring St Tropez, returning to the yacht after dinner.

The quality of the image is high definition; there’s no denying it’s me and Nicky kissing like lovers with the moonlit sky behind us.

If it wasn’t so upsetting, I’d print that photo and keep it forever.

“How did they get this?”

He lifts a shoulder, getting up to pace again, angry energy rolling off him. “We must have been spotted during the day and someone followed us back to the marina. Because we’re at the dock, they wouldn’t have needed more than a high-tech zoom to get that shot.”

I look between him and the photo again, before scrolling down to read the article. Much of it is a rehashing of what was published when we were in Canada, but now with the evidence of the two of us ‘together’, the speculation is no more.

We’ve been outed as a couple. When neither of us has even broached the subject yet.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, taking on the role of the apologiser again . “I should have been more careful.”

“Nicky,” I stand and inch closer to him like a person trying not to scare away a frightened bird. This next conversation needs to be handled carefully. “Are you upset about the invasion of privacy? Or because you didn’t want anyone to know about us? ”

He moves quickly to stand in front of me in two steps. He takes my face between his big hands and places a soft kiss on my lips. “I would never want to keep you—us—a secret. If you’re happy for the world to know you are mine, then I’m thrilled.”

There he goes again, using words like ‘mine’, not knowing they are like catnip for me.

“Okay…”

He kisses me again, softly and far too briefly, before taking a step back. “I just wish we’d been in control. We haven’t even spoken about the future, and now we’re being forced to.”

“And how do you see our future?”

He pulls his lips between his teeth before letting out a long sigh. “How do you see it?”

“I see me with you.”

His smile is swift, his eyes bright with hope. “Yeah?”

My face screams duh. “Of course.”

He pulls me against his chest. “Cherry, I want that more than anything. But my life—it’s difficult. This sort of stuff,” he waves to his phone on the coffee table. “It’s not going away. It will probably get worse. Are you alright with that?”

Frissons of anxiety course through me at the idea of having my private life scattered all over the public sphere, but I push it down. We’ve gone through this before, after Canada, so I know what’s ahead of me. Only this time, we’ll be facing it together.

“I know it won’t be easy, but I want to be with you.”

His heart thumps in his chest under my hands and this time when he kisses me, it feels different. Like more. Like we’re making a pact.

“Oh my gosh,” I gasp, my anxiety ratcheting up ten levels. “I have to call my parents. And Matt. ”

The last time our ‘relationship’ had been outed by the press, I’d called home, frantic to explain it all away, only to be confronted with strange nonchalance from my family. It was almost like they were disappointed the reports were false.

“Let me call Matt,” he says, his lips pulled into a firm line. “He needs to hear from me.”

I bite my lip to stop from biting his and nod. I’ll leave Nicky to deal with my brother, while I make a flurry of other calls to every person I’ve ever known.

Nicky and I are a couple. We know it to be true, and thanks to that paparazzo with their long-range camera zoom, now the world does too.