Page 49

Willow

T he water is calm, like polished glass, and the sun is high and bright in the sky.

We’re anchored somewhere just outside the city, far enough from the marina that the noise of the world feels like it belongs to someone else.

No paparazzi. No schedule. No distractions. No fear of being caught for being more than nanny and boss.

Just the two of us.

Rocket chartered the boat for the day and arranged for Poppy to hang out with Hendrix. He said he wanted us to have something that felt normal. That felt like we were any other couple out for a day.

Couple.

That word gave me pause. We’ve never labeled what we are. Never really spoken about it in more than general terms ... and so to hear him give us one felt amazing.

Lily may have sent me several lewd texts with accompanying emojis after I texted her about it. Of course .

And now I’m stretched out on a padded sun lounger in a bikini, hair twisted up in a knot, and skin warm from both the sun and the champagne. Rocket’s lying beside me, sunglasses on, shirt off, and one knee bent casually.

The boat’s gentle sway makes me sleepy.

“I figured you needed a break from taking care of someone else.”

I peek over at him with my hand shielding my eyes. “Does that include you?” I ask coyly.

“We’ll get to that in a second.” His grin is lightning fast. “And from being under the microscope you never knowingly agreed to be under.”

“I’m a big girl, I can handle myself.”

“No one said you couldn’t.”

“So ... no Poppy. No new activities to figure out or where to explore. No paparazzi or prying eyes,” I say and glance over to the last place I saw any crew members.

They do a great job of staying hidden, but I still know they’re there.

It’s so foreign to have people waiting on me. It makes me feel guilty.

“Nope. None of that,” Rocket says as his eyes scrape over every inch of my body. “No computer to stress over that master’s program you will be starting up again soon.”

“Don’t remind me. I’m already stressing over it.”

“You have it partially done. You’ll kick ass on the rest of it. I have faith in you.”

“At least someone does,” I laugh. “So what exactly would you like me to focus on instead?”

He shifts so that his growing erection under his swim trunks is hard to miss. “Pretty obvious answer.”

I roll my eyes, but my cheeks flush anyway. “Wow. So subtle.”

He grins, slow and wicked.

I sit up and move to the edge of his lounger so that my knees bracket his hips. I settle there so I can enjoy the feel of his cock pressing against the fabric of my suit and then lean down and brush my lips over his.

The kiss is lazy at first. Sun warmed and unhurried.

But then he tilts his head, deepens it, and suddenly the kiss ignites. It’s all tongue and growls and the press of his hands against my back like he’s trying to map my curves.

I get lost in the kiss. In the feel of him. The taste of him. My body heats and hums and rocks against his cock, wanting to rush this moment to get to the next while also wanting to savor every damn second of it.

And then reality hits me and I pull back a fraction. “There are people on this boat,” I whisper.

“And?” he murmurs against my lips.

“I don’t want to get caught by staff.”

“Staff?” He cups the back of my neck and pulls me back in for another kiss. “Listen to yourself adjusting to this lifestyle. You sound like you were born on a yacht.”

I press my forehead to his and exhale a laugh. “This is crazy, right?” The yacht. The ocean on a random Wednesday in July. The rock star I’m currently straddling. “Like batshit crazy.”

“Only if we pretend it doesn’t feel good,” he says and grinds his hips up, hitting me right where it makes me sigh.

“Oh, please.” I swat at his chest, but he catches my wrist and brings my palm to his lips to kiss it.

The action is so intimate that it takes me aback for a second.

Just long enough for one of the crew members to head over and replace our downed drinks with fresh ones.

“Thank you,” we both say as I shift to sit beside him on his lounger. He’s on his back, I’m on my side, and our fingers of one hand are tangled together as I listen to his heartbeat beneath my ear on his chest.

The fingertips of his other hand trail lazily up and down my back as a seagull squawks overhead. “You ever think about how insane the past months have been?”

“All the time.”

“I mean, you’re on the verge of surviving a national tour, the relentless media attention, a toddler on the road, three rock stars who are sarcastic as fuck, and me.”

Each time he adds on, my grin grows wider. “It’s definitely been a ride.” I press a kiss to his chest. “Life would’ve been a whole lot easier without that last one, though.”

“Funny.”

“I try to be.”

Those fingers of his start tickling my sides until I’m squirming and begging him to stop. He chuckles and presses a kiss to the top of my head.

I look up at him and study his face. The way the corners of his eyes crinkle. The way he seems more relaxed today than I’ve ever seen him, like he’s no longer carrying the weight of the world.

Feelings I’ve never had before inundate me. I loved James—with my whole heart—but I never looked at him and felt such adoration. Devotion. Like everything ends and begins with him.

But how is that possible when we’ve only known each other for such a brief time? “It’s the pressure cooker of the situation. It speeds things up and makes everything that much more intense.” Isn’t that what my mom said when I spoke to her last week?

“What is it?” he asks, brow furrowed.

“Nothing.”

Panic hits me. Like, I feel this way, but how does he feel? I know this is more than he’s ever had with anyone else—at least according to the guys—and yet ... what does that mean?

“Come on. Tell me.”

“I don’t think I could ever live this life,” I blurt out, afraid he’s seeing right through me and my thoughts.

His laughter fades. Not abruptly, just slow enough that I don’t register what I’ve said until the silence stretches between us.

I glance over. His expression’s impassive, but his jaw is tense.

“Rocket? What’s wrong? I don’t mean to sound ungrateful or anything for all that you’ve done for me and the experiences I’ve had.”

He doesn’t respond at first. I study his profile as I prop my head on my hand and wait for him to speak.

When he finally does, he doesn’t look at me. “You really don’t think you could live this life?”

There’s no teasing now. No glint of mischief. Just that slow, burning intensity I’m starting to crave.

I sit up, tuck my knees under me, and meet his eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just ... I’m not used to this. Chartering boats. Private security. Headlines about what I’m wearing. It’s a world I’ve never understood and am now suddenly a part of.”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be like that,” he says and reaches for me, thumb brushing over my cheek like he’s trying to decide something.

I feel the shift in him again. The depth scares me a little because it’sreal.

And then he kisses me.

Not the way he usually does—full of swagger and hunger and heat .

This one is slow. Deliberate. The kind of kiss that saysI see you. Even if I don’t know what the hell that means yet.

His hands slide down my sides, over my hips, anchoring me to him.

And I stop thinking altogether.

Because when he touches me like this, I forget every logical reason why this could never work.