Page 38 of Strange Seduction (Strange #2)

Souled Out.

Day Eleven.

There were worse places to be than floating on a yacht in the middle of Lake Como with a woman who was still half-mad at you.

I shaded my eyes against the sun as the boat sliced through glistening water, a soft breeze brushing my shoulders.

Carmen stood at the bow, one hand holding that little camcorder, the other a glass of something golden and cold.

She spoke into the camera, but her voice was too low for me to catch the words.

The mountains towered around us. The lake rocked the yacht gently. And all I could think was—who could stay mad at someone in a place like this?

That was my logic, at least.

The yacht had been my idea. I booked it after she fell asleep on my chest last night. When I woke her this morning, I told her I had a surprise—told her to dress light, pack an overnight bag, and bring her camera.

No details. Just, “Trust me.”

Ironic, really.

She didn’t say much, but I saw the excitement on her face. She followed, slow and sore, her legs probably still aching from everything we’d…resolved last night.

And honestly? I think I’ve had enough makeup sex for now.

What I really wanted was I love you sex.

I need you sex.

I’ll-miss-you-when-you’re-ten-thousand-miles-away sex.

But I didn’t know how to get us back to that place yet.

She turned and glanced over her shoulder at me, eyes narrowed against the sun. “You okay?”

At least she still cared.

I gave a short nod. “You?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she dropped the camera from her face and made her way over to me. She held out the glass.

“Want a sip?”

I accepted. The drink was crisp, something sparkling and light, laced with a hint of peach. I swallowed and handed it back.

“You like it?” she asked.

“It’s okay.”

She sat beside me and leaned back, propping herself on one elbow.

“You haven’t complained about anything all day. It’s making me nervous,” I joked.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” she murmured playfully. “It’s just…hard to be angry in a place like this.”

I let that hang for a second. Then, “I’m trying, Carmen. I know I keep saying it, but I really am.”

Her eyes dropped to her drink.

“I know,” she whispered, then looked at me with a small smile. “It’ll work itself out.”

“How do you know?”

She sipped again, watching the water. “‘Cause it has to.”

I looked at her. That made me smile.

She looked around, her expression softening. “This is so beautiful. Thank you again for doing this.”

“Of course,” I said. “I figured a break from the hotel was overdue.”

“Mmm,” she agreed, absently running her fingers along the screen of the camcorder.

“What were you recording earlier?” I asked.

“Just some thoughts.” She looked out over the lake. “I think one day we’ll look back at today and laugh.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But for now…” She looked at me, eyes calm but serious. “I think it’s good to have something to look back at. So our future selves know how far we’ve come.”

We sat with that thought for a while. Then I said, “Can I record something too?”

She glanced at me, surprised. “You want to?”

“Yes, please.”

She hesitated, then handed me the camcorder, her eyes lingering on my hands as I held it gently. With a light pat on my shoulder, she stood.

“I’m gonna go get a refill.”

It was an excuse to give me some privacy, which I appreciated.

I turned the camcorder toward myself, angling it so the sunlight didn’t blow out the shot. Then, I hit record.

Theo (into the camera):

“Hey. It’s me. Obviously.”

* A small laugh. A breath.*

“I don’t really know what I’m doing here. I’ve never been good at… this. Talking about feelings on command. Or, hell, just talking. But I figured if there’s ever a time to try, it’s now.”

* Shifts, glancing toward the lake, then back at the lens.*

“Carmen, baby, if you’re watching this later, I hope it’s because we made it and we chose to stick together through it all. Because we wanted to be better for each other, and we actually followed through.”

* A pause.*

“I don’t take it lightly, what you’ve forgiven. I know I messed up worse than I ever thought I could. And somehow, you’re still here.”

* Another pause. Voice quieter now.*

“I want this. You and me. I want this so bad. I want it all with you, and I’ve never wanted anything real this badly.”

* A small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.*

“So… yeah. If you’re watching this in the future, and we’re in a better place, I hope you remember this version of us, too. The one that fought like hell for us to get it.”

I turned the camcorder off and let the camera fall gently to the cushion beside me. I just sat there for a moment, staring out across the lake. The silence was heavy, but peaceful, and the water looked so beautiful. I stood up and moved closer to the railing where Carmen had been before.

In the distance, I could see colorful buildings on land that really stood out against the green background.

I wish I could spend a lifetime out here.

Just beneath the deck where I stood, waves gently pushed against the yacht.

The ship wasn’t moving, so the water around us was calm but close enough that I could feel the soft sprays of water on my feet.

I stared down at it for what felt like hours, just lost in thought.

Then, soft footsteps padded behind me.

Carmen’s voice drifted into the stillness.

“The crew says lunch’s ready. They’re setting up on the top deck.”

I didn’t look back at her, still looking below me.

“Teddy?”

“I don’t feel good, Sweetness.”

She got closer, standing next to me by the railing with her face painted with concern. “What’s wrong? Feeling sea sick?”

I nodded, “Check if I have a temperature?”

The minute her hand rose to my face, I grabbed it and pulled her with me, over the railing.

I caught a glance of her surprised face on the way down, just before we hit the cool, refreshing water. The crew rushed over to see what the commotion was when we both resurfaced.

“ Signore, sta bene? Ha bisogno di aiuto? ” they asked with worried faces.

“ Stiamo bene ,” I replied. “ Basta rimandare il pranzo .”

They looked confused but walked away. Carmen swam up next to me and shoved me.

“Theodore Clayton! This dress is Emilio Pucci !”

I laughed. She was so adorable with her hair wet like that.

“Aw. I’m sorry, Amore mio. ”

“It’s not funny! My hair is already curling up,” she pouted.

I pulled her closer. “Add it to my reimbursement tab.”

She looked down at the water as I held her, terrified. “Is there sharks in here?”

“No, baby. Sharks are saltwater fish, and this is freshwater.”

That did not calm her. “What about piranhas? Jellyfish? Crocodiles? Stingrays? You know Black people don’t fuck with stingray since Steve Ir—”

I cut her off with a kiss. It was light at first, but deepened as her body relaxed. When drenched in cool water, she was still warm against me, still soft.

“Sweetness,” I said against her lips. “Nothing in here is gonna hurt you. I swear. Nothing will ever hurt you when you’re with me.”

˙???˙

Later that evening, after spending hours just playing around in the lake before finally having a very late lunch, we settled back into our room on the yacht.

The bedroom doors stood open, letting in the golden spill of sunset over the lake. Carmen stood on the balcony, arms resting lightly on the railing, her silhouette bathed in orange and rose-gold light.

“It’s so beautiful,” she said softly, not turning around.

“It is,” I murmured, coming up behind her and resting my hands on her hips. “It brings a calm to me that only you do.”

I pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder, then another just beneath her ear. She leaned back slightly into me.

“You know this doesn’t excuse everything that happened, right?” Her voice was steady, but her breath hitched.

“I know.”

“And I love that you did this,” she continued, “but you can’t just pull out all the stops whenever I’m upset and expect it to fix things.”

I slid the straps of her dress down her arms, the silk slipping past her skin like water. She didn’t stop me.

“I know that too, baby.”

“And also, you—” She started to say something else, but I turned her gently toward me, brushing her hair behind her shoulder, eyes locked on hers.

“Carmen,” I said, my voice low, rough, “I love you. So fucking much. But please. Shut up and let me taste you. I’ve been waiting for this all day.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but I was already lifting her into my arms.

“You—you can’t just tell me to shut up,” she gasped.

I grinned.

“Shut up,” I repeated, landing a quick smack to her ass. She yelped, startled, as I carried her inside and tossed her gently onto the bed.

My fingers traced the ink of the tattoo I gave her softly.

Mine .

She was marked with my initials.

She obeys me.

“Open your legs.”

She lay there, chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. For a moment, neither of us moved. Then she tilted her head, watching me with a familiar defiance dancing behind her eyes.

“Make me,” she whispered.

And I did.

Pulling her closer to me and pushing them apart as I lowered myself to the edge of the bed. Her legs parted for me easily, as if her body trusted me more than her mind wanted to. My hands slid up her calves, pausing at her knees.

I looked up.

She watched me, half-lidded, flushed from more than just the champagne we had with lunch. Her chest rose and fell with each shaky breath.

“Let me taste you,” I said softly.

Carmen nodded once, almost imperceptibly—but it was enough.

I dipped my head, starting slow.

Worshipful.

My fingers anchored her hips, and her thighs tensed under my palms.

I’ve grown addicted to this familiar taste. I craved the feeling of her metal piercing raking against my tongue as I drowned in her soaked thighs.

She was always ready for me.

Always .

No matter what mood she was in, when I got between her, what’s mine called for me.

She gasped, one hand gripping the sheets, the other flying to her mouth like she didn’t trust herself to stay quiet.