“I keep a variety of self-defense weapons on board—pepper spray, mace, flare guns, and several dive knives. I’ll also equip my boat with an extensive security alarm. They alert when doors, windows, or hatches are opened. There’s also motion detectors and deck vibration alarms, so if someone steps on board, I’m alerted. There are sensors to signal the engine being started, glass breaking, the boat moving from its mooring, disconnected mechanical equipment, and they have GPS tracker systems, like LoJack for boats.
“All the security features they’ve come up with gives me peace of mind for sailing alone. In reality, the chance of something happening out on open water is rare. I’m at a much lower risk of violent crime on a boat than I am in my normal daily life. I wouldn’t be traveling anywhere near waters with pirates or countries with severe strife, because desperation breeds crime, but I’ve heard enough stories to always keep my guard up.”
I’m awed by her depth of knowledge and her practical, well-thought-out approach to this dream. “I’m impressed. Really impressed.” But this information also drives home just how completely different we are. “Your life has been so adventurous. I guess I could see why you wouldn’t want to settle down.”
She studies me a minute. Something’s going on inside her, but I can’t tell what. “And I guess that’s a no-go for you.” She looks at the deck and nods. “I can respect that.” She meets my gaze again. “I don’t like it, but I respect it. You’ve already lost someone. I could see having an aversion to losing another.”
“That hasn’t been a problem with other people I’ve dated, but with you, yeah. I can already see how easily I could fall for you. And losing you would be a serious blow.”
Her gaze goes soft, and she curls her fingers into the front of my shirt and slides her hand toward my belly. It’s a gesture that has already programmed desire to spike inside me.
“You’re different for me,” she says. “You’re not the typical guy I’d go after. And I’m really curious to figure out what it is about you that makes me…”
She stops.
My heartbeat picks up speed. I’m standing on a cliff edge, leaning forward. “Makes you what?”
“A little crazy.” She sighs and looks down the street. “I find myself thinking about you all the time. I’ve lost interest in other men. I’m obsessing over Laiyla’s relationship with Levi, trying to figure out how she’s okay with staying here when she’s always loved traveling for work.”
She shrugs. “I feel like I’m in as much of an identity crisis as Violet. I mean, I know that neither of us fits the description of someone either of us needs right now, but the truth is, I never need anyone. Least of all a man. I never have.” She meets my gaze, serious and intense. “But, that said, there’s no denying that I want you. I want you more than I’ve wanted anyone in longer than I can remember.”
Heat surges through my body. Her distinction between need and want catches in my mind like a bro
ken cog in a wheel.
Jana always needed me. She needed me for everything—financial security, emotional stability, friendship, love, belonging, confidence, happiness. I always felt like she’d fall over if I wasn’t supporting her in every conceivable way. In fact, I believe she had the affair because I was so entrenched in work, I wasn’t able to give her all she needed. And now, I have three precious little lives needing me for all that and so much more.
I’ve been needed for so long, I couldn’t see the difference between need and want. And the idea of having a woman as strong as KT wanting me without needing me feels…surprisingly powerful. Wildly liberating. Potentially essential—for my soul, for my heart, for me.
Only now, in this instant, do I recognize that somewhere amid all this need, I lost my sense of self. I forgot that what I want is important too. And those wants don’t always have to correlate to a need to be essential to my happiness.
“But I get it,” she goes on, interrupting my pivotal thoughts. “I understand that I might not be what you need or want. I wish I could give you everything you’re looking for. I’m even inclined to tell you I can. Or at least try. And maybe, if it wasn’t for the girls, I would. But you’ve got too much riding on keeping your life together, and I don’t want to—”
I cup the back of her neck and pull her in to shut her up with my mouth. It’s an impulsive, reckless move when everyone in town is hovering in the next room, just waiting for a little morsel of gossip to spread around.
I’m not ashamed of KT, or ashamed of wanting her, but there are a lot of families here. Families whose kids go to school with mine. Families who gossip over the dinner table. Gossip that finds its way to school and ends up gouging my girls. It happened with Jana’s cancer. Happened again with Jana’s death. It was torture for all of us, and I don’t want it to happen again.
A sound rolls in KT’s throat. Surprise, hunger, relief. She tilts her head and opens to me before I can get my thoughts straight. Fists the front of my shirt, pushes up on her toes, and offers her warm mouth in a way that screams of abandon. That makes me think of so many erotic ways I’d like her to use this mouth. Maybe even in ways I can’t quite understand yet. I get the very distinct impression KT could teach me a lot in the bedroom.
But now, I grip her waist and push her backward until she hits the wall and we’re better hidden in the shadows. Her hands slide up my chest, over my shoulders, behind my neck and she presses her body to mine, then pulls my head down while pushing up on her toes at the same time. Her mouth is open and hot and hungry. I don’t know what she sees in me that she didn’t see in the younger guys she was talking to inside, but I can’t wonder about that now, because my hands are beneath her sweater, sliding over warm, smooth skin, and her tongue is telling me exactly what she wants.
I’m completely gone by the time I slide my hands lower, covering her ass and pulling her up against my erection. She moans into my mouth and wraps one thigh at my hip. I lift her and fit her perfectly between my body and the wall. She rocks her hips against me, and it’s my turn to moan.
When she breaks the kiss, she rests her forehead against mine. Her hands slide into my hair, nails grazing my scalp. Everything she does is such a turn-on.
“Touch me,” she says, her voice breathy and quiet. I’m about to ask her to repeat it, but she drags one hand from my neck, pushes it between us, pops the button on her jeans, then shoves the zipper down. “I can’t stop thinking about it. Touch me, Ben.”
The woman has created a sexy scale all her own. I turn my hand over, press my palm to her belly, and hold her gaze as I push it slowly into her jeans, underneath her panties, and between her legs.
We moan at the same time. She’s hot and swollen and slick, and I feel like I’m tumbling head over ass down a waterfall, sure there’s got to be rocks somewhere down the line. This is way more adventurous than I’ve ever been before, but I have a feeling that’s going to be the norm with KT.
“Fuck, that’s good.” Both her hands return to my hair. One tightens, and the pull helps me stay in the present. Helps me keep my mind on our surroundings. Then she leverages the security of her back on the wall and lifts her hips, rubbing against my hand. She laughs a groan. “I knew I’d love your hands on me.”
She’s so sexy, I have no words. But I do have an unquenchable desire to please her. To prove her lusty needs aren’t misplaced with me. I slide my hand along her until my fingers are soaked, then push two inside her. Her eyes fall closed on a look of ecstasy, lighting fire to my nerve endings.
“Oh my God.” Her eyes are dark, her lids lazy. Her lips are parted, and I lower and tilt my head to kiss her the way I finger her, deep and slow, until she whimpers. “Ben… Fuck…”
Her body tenses, and her hips buck. I barely cover her mouth in time to smother her sounds of pleasure. And I’m marveling at how quickly she climaxed. That’s got to be some kind of record. Leading me to all kinds of thoughts about setting all kinds of other records.