âI think I could get used to being on a yacht,â I tell Preston as he leads me to the second level of the boat. The stairway is narrow and dim, but I trust him to guide me. Weâve already toured the first floor, even though I donât know if calling it a boat is the right word because itâs massive and elaborate.
âYeah?â Preston asks, leading me down a walkway. If I remember correctly, the blacked-out windows next to us are where the captain steers the boat from, and thereâs enough space for living quarters for him if at sea.
We stop at the back of the boat, both of us standing against the railing that overlooks the deck below us. âYep. Itâs official, Iâm a yacht person. Next, I need to find a way to actually go out to sea on one of these.â
âWeâll have to do that sometime,â he responds.
I watch him carefully, wondering if I heard him correctly. He stares right back at me, his features set in stone. Either he doesnât realize heâs said it, or he sees nothing wrong with it.
âWill we?â I ask cautiously.
My heart races in my chest as I wait for his answer. I donât know what I want it to be. Iâm a messâthe biggest messâand Iâm under no impression I should be diving into some sort of relationship with anyone, not that I assume heâd even want that. But it does make me sad to think about never seeing him again after Saturday. Maybe we shouldâve talked more about this.
âMaybe.â He makes the word sound so confident.
I search his eyes for answers. âI thought we were never going to see each other again after Saturday,â I confess. I know itâs probably not the right thing to say, but I donât care. I donât want to dwell on what-ifs anymore. I want to know how he feels and not have regrets or wonder what wouldâve happened if Iâd been honest.
Preston reaches out and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. His hand lingers as he cups my cheek.
âWhat are you thinking?â I whisper, wishing he wore his emotions on his sleeve. Occasionally, Iâve seen breaks in his resolve and could read his features, but heâs so good at keeping what he feels hidden that right now, I have no idea whatâs running through his mind.
âIâm thinking that I have no idea whatâs happening between us. And that when I conned you into being my fake girlfriend for the week, I thought that Iâd be okay with letting you go at the end of it.â
âBut now?â
âNow I hate the thought of saying goodbye to you.â
âI know.â I should probably say more, but I donât know what else to say to him. I could tell him that I feel the same and I hate the idea of never seeing him again after this. But Iâm trying to think more long-termâsomething I clearly havenât done before.
I donât know what anything past this week would look like for us. I donât even know what my life will look like weeks from now. Iâm a mess and have so many things to figure out, but for right now, I just want him to know that I donât want to say goodbye either.
He moves his hand to the back of my neck as his thumb tilts my chin up. âI donât let anyone in my head.â His free hand taps my temple before both of his hands are cupping my cheeks. âBut you managed to do it, Emma. Youâre in my head. And the craziest part is that I donât even want you out of it.â
âYou really say all the right things.â I lift on my tiptoes, my hands finding his forearms as my lips find his. I donât have the right words to say to him, so I donât use words at all. I kiss him, not caring if someone were to see us. Nothing matters but reveling in every second I have with this man.
The kiss is slow, but it still makes my heart beat furiously. I donât know how long we stay locked in it, but somehow, it feels like time both stands still and flies by all at once.
Eventually, he pulls away, a whisper of a smile on his lips. âTell me where youâd like to go on this yacht.â
My eyes widen with excitement. I sigh, turning to look out over the deck and at the ocean around us. âAnywhere. I donât think you could pick a wrong place to visit when aboard something like this.â
He steps behind me, pressing his front to my back. His arms come around my waist as he rests his chin on my shoulder. I let out a sigh, my body feeling completely content as I let myself melt into him.
âWell, where have you gone?â he asks. His chest rumbles against my back with his deep, throaty rasp.
âOn a yacht? Wherever weâre going tonight.â
âNo, I meant where have you traveled to before? I donât want to take you somewhere youâve already been when I could take you somewhere completely new.â
âIâve never been out of the country, so your options are pretty limitless.â
His fingers tighten slightly at my hips. âNever?â
I shake my head. âNever. Iâm not very well traveled, Preston Rhodes.â
âNow youâre making me want to take you to every country in the world.â
I smile at the thought, imagining what itâd be like to travel the world with him. I bet heâs the kind of guy who has a perfect itinerary planned out to the hour. âIs that a promise?â
He hugs me tight to his chest, completely enveloping me in him. âI hope it is.â