"Got it, chef," she says with a crisp nod. But her eyes keep drifting to Yulian.
I don't bother removing my chef's whites as I head upstairs behind Yulian. "Was there something wrong with the canapes?" I ask, feeling suddenly nervous.
I'd meant to only send up two different kinds of canapes, but I ended up making four. There was so much fresh seafood and so many choices. I have a tendency to overdo it. Maybe I bit off more than I could chew and compromised the quality.
"The canapes?" Yulian asks, throwing an amused look over his shoulder. "Hardly. Those were the best damn things I've ever put in my mouth."
"Oh. Right. Thanks."
Feeling slightly more confident after that brazen praise, I let him lead me through a darkened nook before we finally resurface.
The ocean looks eerily calm as I step up into the fresh air. A flat plane of dark glass. But it's not enough to hold my attention when I set eyes on Anton. He's leaning against the railing of the yacht now, holding a thin flute of champagne.
"Thanks, Yulian," Anton says, giving his brother a dismissive nod. "That'll be all."
"I'll be below deck if you need anything," Yulian says before immediately disappearing.
I look around, taking note of the fact that we seem to be alone. Then I remember the kitchen windows and look back.
Molly and Lisa are both openly staring at me through the slim pane of glass like we're on a reality TV show. When I turn back to Anton, he gives me a lazy smile and starts walking around to the other side of the yacht, away from the curious eyes that follow us.
"You have admirers below deck," I tell him, mostly to break the silence.
"Does that include you?"
I blink. Cat's got my tongue, apparently.
He saves me by laughing. "Your canapes were extraordinary, Jessa," he says. "The best I've ever eaten."
Warmth floods through my body instantly. "Thank you," I mumble, eyes downcast.
"Your talents are wasted doing corporate catering and one-time gigs. You should be the head chef of your own restaurant."
I rest my hand against the cool metal railing. "That's the dream. But it's not a realistic one, unfortunately."
"Money problems?"
"Isn't it always?"
"For some," he says with a shrug of his shoulders. "Less so for others." Then he offers me the flute of champagne in his hand. "Have a sip."
"Oh, it's fine, I—"
"Have a sip, Jessa." It's not a question.
Like I'm hypnotized—and hell, maybe I am—I find myself accepting the glass and placing my lips against the exact same spot his had rested only a few seconds ago.
I tilt it back. The rich liquid slides down my throat like silk.
"Whoa," I breathe, staring at the glass in my hand.
"1959 Dom Perignon. Good, isn't it?"
I nearly choke on my next breath. It takes everything I have not to bleat out, You must be fucking joking. Because if I remember my wines course from culinary school correctly, a 1959 Dom Perignon champagne runs a casual forty-something grand per bottle.
Who the hell is this guy?
Swallowing back my million and one questions, I just squeak, "Yeah. Incredible."
He nods. It seems like he blinks less than most normal humans. I find myself wishing he'd do it more, if only to give me a break from the piercing intensity of his stormy gray eyes.
"It gets claustrophobic down there sometimes," he remarks. "I thought you might need a little breather."
"Do you do that for everyone on your payroll?" I ask.
"Just the ones that interest me."
"Hate to disappoint, but I'm not that interesting," I say, trying to cover my blush with another sip of the champagne.
"I disagree," he says. "In fact, I might be almost as interested in you as you seem to be in me."
This time, I do actually choke. "What makes you say that?" I ask when I regain my composure.
"For starters, you've spent most of the night thus far staring at me through the kitchen windows."
At this point, there's no way I can stop the embarrassed blush from ravaging my cheeks. I hand the champagne back to him only because I think I might break the glass if I hold on to it any longer.
"No, that was… That was just absent daydreaming."
He smiles. "Why deny it, Jessa? Why deny yourself what you want?"
I look down and fidget. "I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable."
"You couldn't if you tried," he demurs. "But I should warn you: staring at me too long will get girls like you into trouble."
My heart thunders frantically against my chest. "What kind of trouble?"
"The kind of trouble that involves moonlight and champagne," he says with a smile that makes my insides clench. "The kind that swallows you up before you even know it's happening."
He dangles his hand over the edge of the yacht. I watch as he releases the half-empty flute. The glass falls into the ocean. A few thousand dollars' worth of champagne guzzled greedily by the black waves.
"Why did you do that?" I gasp.
He smiles. "I wanted my hands free."
"For what?"
"For this."
He turns and grabs me. And before I can make sense of what is happening, I'm being kissed.
Anton's hand falls to the small of my back and he pulls me against his body. His body is rock hard underneath the thin fabric between us.
And it's not the only part of him that's rock hard.
The cautious side of my brain starts blaring with a thousand alarm bells. But I can barely hear any of it over the scream of my desires. Desires I never even knew I had.
When his tongue slashes across my lower lip, I shudder and part my mouth for him.
When his hand lands between my legs, I melt instinctively.
He pulls back just enough so that he can speak. "Do you want me to stop, kotyonok?"
"No," I say, the word wrenching itself breathlessly from my lips. "Never."
JESSA
At some point, I'm kissing him back. The cold wind whips around us, but I'm on fire.
"Anyone could see," I whisper, looking around the bow of the yacht in alarm.
"Let them fucking see," he growls in my ear before his lips leave a scorching trail down my neck.
He rips open the jacket of my chef's whites and circles my right nipple through the flimsy material of the blue slip he dressed me in. I press my body closer into his warmth and am rewarded with the hardness of his cock against my thigh.
He twists me around suddenly so I'm facing the ocean. I have no choice but to grip the railings as his hands rip my pants down to my knees.
"You're a work of art, do you know that?"
"I bet you say that to every woman you seduce," I say breathlessly.
I can hear his chuckle in my ear. "Never out loud."
Then I feel his cock against my ass and I lose all sense of self-consciousness or wariness. Suddenly, it doesn't matter that we're out in the open and anyone can catch us.
It doesn't matter that I've known this man for less than twelve hours.
It doesn't even matter that I lost my fiancé and my best friend in one fell swoop today.
All that matters is the distraction he offers me and the intense pleasure that comes with it.
His hand slaps my ass cheek and I double over with a gasp, the cold metal railing biting into my stomach. I grip the railing and spread my legs.
"Eager, eager," he whispers in my ear.
"Would you rather I tease you more?" I threaten with a laugh.
He nips at my neck. "Just walking around like you do is a tease."
Then he pulls down my panties and I feel his cock against my bare ass. I hold my breath, wondering if this is going to be a decision I regret later.
Then I think about how this day started. And about how this day was supposed to end. I think about Dane and Salma.
And I realize there is nothing to regret.
"Fuck me, Anton," I gasp. "Please… just fuck me."
I've never asked a man to fuck me before. But I've also never had my fiancé cheat on the day of my wedding before.
It's time for a change.
I deserve to have a man like Anton fuck the sadness right out of me. He seems inclined to agree.
He pushes into me a second later, and I gasp. It's so different than it ever was with Dane. He's so much bigger. He fills me up, knows exactly how to use the hammer between his legs.
"Fuck…" I moan.
"Breathe, kotyonok," he croons in my ear. "It takes a moment to get used to."
I bite down on the inside of my cheek as the pressure builds. He pushes deeper inside me and I scream. He wraps one arm around my waist and with his free hand, he massages my breasts.
He rocks against me gently, easing into me as he nips at my neck and ear. I wanted to be more of an active participant, but the sensations coursing through my body are too overwhelming. I'm forced to stand there, bracing myself for the onslaught I know is coming.
Because I know instinctively that Anton is not the kind of man to go slow and gentle indefinitely.