Page 15 of My Only

We didn’t talk much about the wedding that never happened—the one he was supposed to have with someone else.

But sometimes, it found its way into conversation.

And yet, standing here, on this yacht, in his arms, with an island sunset before us, those four years felt more like one month.

Because getting married made everything feel new again.

Hassani turned me to face him, his arms locking firmly around my waist.

His eyes searched mine, his skin drinking in the fiery colors of the sunset.

“You’re a fantasy I’ve lived out in my imagination way too many times to count,” he remarked low. “A. Boogie.”

I bit my bottom lip, lifting my arms to wrap around his neck, balancing on the arches of my feet.

Hassani walked me backward—stopping only when my body pressed against the ship’s railing.

We shared a kiss, like always.

Hassani’s hand found a home on my ass, squeezing firmly as his tongue moved against mine.

I pecked his lips before leaning back, my gaze locking with his.

“Planning this sunset cruise seems like it took a lot of effort.”

“Nothing is too much effort when it comes to you.” He tightened his hold around my waist. “You know that.”

“Mm-hmm.” I smiled. “Don’t go designing me a yacht, though.”

He arched a brow. “You want me to design you a yacht?” His smirk deepened. “I can design you a yacht.”

I leaned my head back in laughter, and when I leveled my gaze, he was watching me, smiling.

“You’re not sleeping tonight, Mrs. Franklin,” he promised the second our eyes met. “Not on my watch.”

“Oh, I hope not,” I replied, holding him tighter.

Eventually, sleep found us.

But as the seagulls cried overhead and morning light painted soft gold across our villa the next morning, I blinked awake to find Hassani asleep beside me.

Like most nights in the villa, we had fallen asleep on the outdoor daybed, just inches from the pool.

Waking up to the sound of waves, the scent of salt and sun, the endless stretch of ocean before us, had become a norm I would miss.

We were leaving today.

A part of me was sad, but another part of me was excited. Because when we left, I would be leaving as Mrs. Ayla Franklin.

I sat up slowly, shifting my gaze toward Hassani.

Last night, after returning from the sunset cruise, we hadn’t wasted a single second getting our hands on each other.

The candles we lit flickered in the breeze, casting soft shadows against the walls, their glow blending seamlessly with the rhythm of the ocean ahead of us.

For our final night, we had slept outside in the nude, letting the warmth of the island wrap around us.

We wanted the sun to wake us.

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