Page 8 of Spring Break with a Mafia Prince
“Or you listen well.” He leaned down, his lips brushing the skin just below my ear.
I shivered, unable to hold that back, and his soft laughter afterward doubled down on the action.
His hands closed on my hips tight then let go, a breath shuddering out of him as he stepped back, creating distance between us. I missed him straight away, aching for him, but the way his breath came hard at my back…I wasn’t game to turn around to confront him.
Finally, he cleared his throat. “See the island? That’s our destination.” His hand covered mine on the helm. “Mind if I take it from here?”
I relinquish the wheel, cramping my hands. “Please,” I smiled. “That was fun but…don’t rely on me to do anything technical.”
“You’re much better than you think.” Falcon watched the little window above us, then glanced around as the island came in closer, his brow knitting as he sought a particular spot. “There.”
The next minutes were a rush as he pulled the sail in, working like a one man army hell bent on total efficiency.
I had no idea what he saw, but he clearly did as the anchor went down with a tremendousthunk. He threw the boat into reverse and once the anchor dragged and grabbed, he stopped and we floated in a wide circle just off the island in the still deep water.
Everything around us, except for a few birds and the wind, was silent.
“That was impressive.” I gripped the glossy railing, watching the small white caps lap at the rocks a hundred yards away. “You read the water like others do a road.”
“I had a master give me his best cheat sheet last night after I left you.” His chest brushed my back as he slid his hands around my stomach. “And his grandson leant me his boat this morning after I promised to let him teach me to fish.”
I giggled. “You, fish?” I tipped my head back, resting against his shoulders. Flacon let me, his body a wall of strength that felt so good when I could just let everything go. “Do you want to learn how to fish?”
“Not at all.” His grimace filtered through his voice as he caught my chin in his fingertips and tipped my head back a little more. “Right now, though…” He leaned down enough to brush his mouth over mine once, then again. “I’d like to feed you.”
“Not what a girl wants to hear,” I muttered.
He laughed at me, not letting go just yet. “Let me have my way,” he cajoled. “At least for now.”
“Somehow I suspect you're rather good at that.” I let him manhandle me to a soft cream leather bench seat that lined both sides of the small cockpit.
“And I thought you hadn’t noticed.” Falcon disappeared down the small hatch that led to the inside of the sailing yacht with a small kitchenette and a few long berths plus a tiny bathroom I was inherently grateful for, and reappeared holdinga tray of salad and chicken rolls plus a bottle of white wine. “Tada da.”
“You’ve been busy.” I reached down and liberated everything from his, reveling in the shock on his face. “Doesn’t anyone help out where you're from?”
He quickly schooled the emotion off his face and back into the semblance of the easy going persona I’d come to associate with him. “Not the— thanks,” he murmured, running his fingers along my arm.
Falcon climbed one handed back onto the deck and helped unload the burden onto the fold out glossy wooden table that magically appeared from the other side of the helm.
“He loves this boat. The boy you borrowed it from.” I tidied a small corner of his things to make room for the platter that followed.
“He’s a few years older than me, so not a boy, to be fair.” He shot me a sideways amused glance. “What makes you say that?”
I took a roll off the plate and filled it with salad and some pulled chicken. “Look at how well the boat is varnished, or whatever you call it. There isn’t a mark on it. That’s care and love and a whole lot of hours.”
Flacon stilled. “You see a lot.”
I shrugged. “It’s kind of obvious, I guess?”
“Perhaps.” He settled next to me. “We see the world through a different filter.”
I ate for a moment before I realized he just sat there, his own lunch untouched, watching me eat. After a moment I put my roll down and cleared my throat. “Do I have something stuck in my teeth?”
He started. “Huh? Not at all.”
I nudged him gently. “It’s weird eating alone with you staring at me like a creeper,” I whispered.
Falcon stared at me, then laughed so loudly he scared birds perched on a rock a few dozen yards away. “Hell, girl.” He draped an arm across the back of the seat and tipped his head back. “I haven’t laughed like that since I left campus.”
