She smiled at his possessive words and motioned to the sign. “Care to elaborate?”

“Absolutely not. Let’s just say it’s an old family joke.”

Julianna perched on the edge of the dock and watched him ready the boat for sail. He moved with seamless grace, his fingers capably pulling and untying lines, his steps sure as he moved over the wet deck. He jumped lightly down and put out his hand. Julianna waited for the verbal invitation required to be spoken in the boating world, the way a vampire needs permission to enter a home.

“Come aboard.”

She gave him her hand and hated the instant sizzle of naked skin against hers, his thumb automatically rubbing into her palm to prolong the sensation. Her feet hit the deck and she withdrew. He allowed her the space and led her through the cabin for a quick tour.

The Schooner was small and well built. Bright white canvas sails adorned the sleek look of the wood. His space seemed functional but nothing more, and Julianna assumed he barely had enough money to survive from town to town. Definitely Peter Pan syndrome. Why else would a grown man refuse to get a job, have a family, and settle down? Still, she oughtn’t to judge. Her life was the complete opposite, and not her choice.

On the open deck, he’d set up a small folding table with a white cloth. Wine chilled in a bucket alongside crab and fresh corn on the cob. Paper napkins and utensils completed the casual dinner.

“I hope you don’t mind eating before our sail. I had back-to- back jobs today, so I didn’t have time to eat.”

“No, it’s perfect. Looks wonderful.”

The moon hung in a graceful crescent and competed with an array of stars. The breeze blew light, with a crisp sting that kept the body alert. She watched him pour wine and serve while she enjoyed the gentle sway of the boat and the endless blackness of ocean spread before her. They nibbled on crab and sipped wine in silence before she asked her question.

“Julianna, would you take off your top?”

Her glass paused in mid-air. “Excuse me?”

His smile was pure amusement and wicked intent. “You heard me.”

“Someone will see.”

“It’s midnight. No one’s out here, and soon we’ll be setting sail. I thought about you all day. Thought about licking sweet sugar from your breasts while you cried out for me to stop. Do you remember how long I pleasured your breasts? How sensitive to each bite and lick you became?”

Oh, God, yes. She remembered it all. Already on command, her body slammed into full alert, awaiting his every instruction.

“I want to eat while I gaze at you half naked. I want to know I can reach out and touch you at any time, and that soon I’ll have you.”

It took a moment for her fingers to stop trembling. Then she set down her glass and pulled off her tiny white t-shirt, exposing a lacy crème bra.

“Now the bra.”

She unhooked the back clasp and revealed herself.

“Good girl,” he murmured. He took a sip of wine and devoured her with his gaze. “You hide your body behind such boring clothes. Your skin tastes like vanilla bean ice cream. Your nipples are rosy and flushed, and you fit perfectly in the palms of my hands. Now I want you to remove your underwear.”

She fought a blush, amazed she had any shred of modesty left after the week they’d shared. “How do you know I’m wearing underwear?”

“Because you like it when I make you take it off.”

She sucked in her breath. Then hiked up her skirt to wiggle out of the plain white panties she’d desperately wanted to upgrade.

“Well done. Now, about the retaining wall.”

Julianna assumed he was joking. Every nerve ending felt raw and exposed, and her pussy throbbed to have him thrust deep inside her. Unfortunately, he wasn’t joking. He launched into a detailed description of the project, the cost, and the time period. She tried desperately to listen, but her body screamed louder than her mind and became the victor. Finally, she agreed to the project and dimly noted it would extend the time he worked around her house by a few more days. Not a good idea, but something she couldn’t control. Hell, she was barely able to hold an intelligent conversation with the breeze caressing her bare breasts and hardening her nipples, aware that she was wet, aching and ready for him.

“Tell me about the classes you teach,” he said, leaning back in his chair and obviously enjoying the view.

She refused to surrender and focused her thoughts on the conversation. “Poetry and literature was always a passion of mine. I grew up on Dickens and Austen. Always seemed more comfortable with books than people. I even tried my hand at writing, but I don’t have the talent.  I’d rather read.”

“Hmm, I’m not surprised. You try desperately to live in your head, but deep inside you have too much passion. Literature would feed that hunger.”

Surprise shot through her. Dead-on hit. She wondered how he knew her so well after so little time spent in her company. “Yes,” she answered softly. “I think you’re right.”

“My mother raised me on poetry.”

“Dr. Seuss?”

He laughed. “More like Dickinson and Moore. She insisted on giving me culture, as she called it. Also told me it would help with the ladies.”

“Did it?”

“You tell me.”

Julianna shook her head in amusement at his outright arrogance and the memory of that night by the bar. “You’re impossible. But your mother was right. When I heard you quoting Whitman, well, I don't need to lie. You had me.” He seemed satisfied by her admission, but she was curious about all the hidden facets he never spoke about. “You sound like you come from a close family, yet you don’t want to settle down with the business. What type of business is it, Jack?”

A beat passed. “We build things, then ship them.”

“Construction?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re not ready to take over?”

Another beat passed. Julianna knew he was hiding something, but didn’t push. After all, she had her own secrets.

 “I have nothing to complain about. I grew up with a solid foundation and my parents were always there for me. Let’s just say I felt separated from other kids. I was on a different social level, so I became isolated. Of course, as I got older I realized that was bullshit. You can be friends with anyone you want, if you choose.”

“Are you talking about rich versus poor?”

“Yeah.”

She nodded. “I know what you mean. I grew up with the pressure of socializing with “my kind.” I made a friend in school once. We hung out and played together, and I invited her over to my house for a play date. Once my mother discovered her background, she told me I wasn’t allowed to see her any longer. Explained I had a responsibility to learn only from friends at my own social level.” She huffed out a disgusted breath. “So embarrassing. After mom's lecture, I ignored my friend. I still regret how I hurt her feelings. I wish I’d been strong enough to stand up to my mother instead of accepting what she told me as law. I was literally raised to be a spoiled brat.”

“Is that why you want to marry someone at your social level?”

She hesitated with the truth. And decided to hold back. “Yes.” She gave no further explanation, almost wanting him to disapprove of her. Anything to keep some emotional distance between them.

“You may not have had a choice then. But you do now.”

The words stung like a hive of bees. She took the pain because she knew she deserved it. He was right. Pretending she was stuck on the path before her was a sheer copout. She could turn her back on her father’s plea and do what was best for her. She could sell the property and walk away. Make a life somewhere else on her own terms.

Her father’s face haunted her. To keep the family home and name alive. Ridiculous, these days. She was a heroine straight out of Victorian fiction or Gone with the Wind.

Jack was right, though. Still her choice.

She decided to play her own games. There was no need to hunker down for a heart-to-heart talk with a temporary lover. She sat across from him, topless, while he called the shots.

Not anymore.

“This crab is delicious.” Her obvious change of subject seemed to amuse him, but she vowed to alter the expression on his face. The meat was tender and cold against her mouth. She dipped a claw in butter, brought it slowly to her lips and nibbled at the jagged edges.

Suddenly, he seemed less than amused.

He watched every motion with obviously growing hunger, and a jolt of satisfaction raced through her at the ability to make this man want her. Power urged her on as she darted her tongue out and caught the crab delicately between her teeth. Without pulling her gaze from his, she opened her mouth and sucked on the meat. As it disappeared behind her lips, she emitted an earthy moan.

His muscles locked. Julianna heard a ragged breath, but he didn’t speak or try to stop her. She licked the dripping butter off every finger, scraping her teeth lightly against her skin. When they were clean, she pushed her hair behind her shoulder. Then she slowly allowed her moist fingers to trace the collarbone of her neck, caress the swell of her breasts, and drop lower.

He sucked in his breath. Driven by an extreme urge to push him, to make him want her, she allowed her fingers to touch and stroke her breasts with delicate motions. She let her head fall back a bit and felt the cool breeze drift over her heated skin, sent her thumb to play over the ruby hard tip and coax it to rise.

He muttered a dirty curse. “I knew I created a monster. Look at you. Look at what you do to me.”

Her gaze fell to his erection straining against the white shorts. Tawny eyes glittered with a mad hunger and spurred her on. She dropped her voice to a naughty whisper. “Why don’t you look at what you do to me?”

She pulled up her skirt and parted her legs.

Jack gripped the table and swore. “Show me, Julianna. Show me what you did on the cliffs the first night I took you.”

The wildness took hold and tore through her. She slid her hand downward, parted her swollen lips, and pushed her finger inside.

He urged her on. She moaned as her body reached for release. She used her wetness to coat her clit and applied the steady moving pressure to make herself come. Slipping lower in the chair, she hooked both feet behind the legs of the table and pleasured herself.

He sensed her approaching climax and jumped from his chair. With one fast movement, he caught her around the waist and pulled her up, catching her hand firmly in his. Hard, choppy breaths floated past her ear as he held her against his rock-hard body.

“I won’t let you finish this time, Julianna.” He ripped the skirt down her hips and gazed at her naked body with an odd possessiveness. “Go stand by the railing and don’t turn around. We’re setting sail.”

Her knees trembled when he left, but she obeyed. She clasped the cool rails of the deck and heard him release the ropes. Silently, the boat glided away from the harbor into the blackness before her.

The night engulfed her with silence, and the horizon pulled her further into an alternate universe. Civilization left behind, she waited for him as the boat made its way deep into the ocean, then slowed. A million stars twinkled overhead.

She never heard his footsteps.

Like a wild stallion mounting his mare, he pressed his hard body against hers and dragged her legs apart. She gasped and held on tight as he yanked her up, spread her wide, and plunged deep inside.

Julianna tensed against the sudden invasion. His massive size filled her up, and she clenched her muscles tight in an automatic defense. He groaned with pleasure as her walls milked his cock, and she arched backward as her body slowly received him, then demanded more.

The wind caressed the hard tips of her breasts, and she clutched the railing, fighting for some shred of sanity. The wildness of the scene took her deeper into a dark, seething hunger. He gripped her hips and thrust over and over, ravishing, punishing, teaching her the ultimate lesson in submission. Julianna moaned with need as his strokes pushed her toward the edge of climax, then held her there mercilessly. She twisted back and forth in a mad attempt to get him to finish, but he tortured her, his thrusts deep and hard but hardly enough.

“Fuck me harder.” She panted the words between gritted teeth as her pussy dripped and burned for more. “Take it all, Jack.”

He muttered her name, lifted one leg to expose her swollen pussy, and plunged again. She cried out as he rubbed her clit at the same time and the orgasm gripped every muscle of her body. Mini-convulsions seized her and she rode the wave to the end, sobbing at the exquisite release.