Page 28 of Heated Takeover

“Because I can take care of myself just fine,” she adds.

“No doubt you can,” I tell her. “But I have a hard time believing that you do.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You can take care of yourself and your son and anything else anyone asks of you. I know you are competent, Natalie. I wouldn’t have promoted you to your position if I doubted any of that.”

“Then what are you saying?” she asks.

“That you don’t do things for yourself,” I tell her.

“Sure I do,” she snaps.

“Alright. Like what?” I ask, glancing between her and the road.

“What do you mean, like what?” she scoffs.

“What do you do that is only for you? Things you enjoy? Things you want? Things you desire?”

“My desires are none of your business,” she hisses but her entire body is turned towards me in the seat. I smirk. She turns back.

“I’m not so sure that’s true,” I say, and she doesn’t respond.

I park the car on the private dock and get out, rounding the car to open her door. Natalie just sits there, staring forward and still buckled in.

“Where are we?” she asks.

“A dock?” I state the obvious.

“Well, no shit, Sherlock,” she says. “Why? Why are we on a dock?”

“Because it’s the most efficient way to get to my yacht?” I ask.

“Your yacht?” She huffs before ripping her seatbelt off and getting out of the car. She looks out at the water and her eyes widen and her cheeks flush, and her shoulders slope. “You would have a yacht.”

I take her hand, and she follows me willingly to the end of the dock.

“I come here to get away,” I say. “Most people use yachts for parties and private events...that sort of thing, and I have, when necessary. But mostly, I come here to escape. It’s quiet. Secluded. Private. It’s kind of nice to physically disconnect from the city, you know?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” she says, and I look at her. “I mean, I really don’t. I never escape. Any part of my life. I can’t, you know?” she asks.

“You can right now. You have my permission. But you’re going to have to give yourself permission too,” I say as we step inside.

“Permission for what?” she asks, and I smirk devilishly as nerves become hot next to my pulsing veins.

“To do whatever you want…” I say.

She stares up at me, and I look down at her only for a moment before our mouths crash together.

There is no hesitation. There is no second thought. There is no denying our chemistry and attraction for either of us. As we kiss, her hands scrape and scratch up my back, bringing back memories of that night. I yank her body against mine, holding her fast to me so I can feel every curve of her body against every me.

Her back arches and I pull her closer, deeper, trying in vain to figure out a way to make our bodies one without actual penetration. Because this is not the time for that. This is just a taste. Just a tease.

I reach down and tug the dress up, no easy feat because it’s made of some kind of polyester. Once it is high enough on her hip, I find her satin panties and waste no time sliding my hand down the front of them. She exhales a breath of satisfaction, and I smirk into the kiss. I slide my fingers down the length of her, running through her wetness and warmth before circling back again.

“Oh…” she moans. “Yes.”

“Is this what you want?” I ask.