61
In typical Jake fashion, the trip is organized at lightning speed, in a matter of days at most, which pass in a flurry of a busy schedule. Before long, we’re heading to the sunny
deck of Jake’s father’s yacht.
The yacht is enormous; we’re anchored off the shore of the most luscious, secluded beach I’ve ever seen. I’m completely overwhelmed by the beauty of this place. The sun is beating down, and there is a gentle breeze of sweet, salty air. It’s truly a paradise, complete with palms and white sandy shores.
The crew members are formal and walk around in white uniforms; the captain even wears his hat. And everything we desire is brought to us by these magical servants who stay out of sight until needed. It is beyond my wildest dreams, and for a minute, I wonder what it would be like to be married to someone like Jake, having this life all the time.
He seems so much more chilled and carefree, a smile never far from that handsome face and somehow different. Jake’s friends seem okay. Daniel keeps his distance, and I wonder if Jake has warned him off.
There are six of them with us. Daniel and two other men, Vincent and Richard, twins with white-blonde hair and gray eyes, all
American good looks and square shoulders. Jake has an alarming number of good-looking friends. They have all brought hot, leggy women on board, two of whom are currently completely topless and wandering about on deck having some sort of bitchy glaring competition. The third is Leila Huntsberger, Sophie’s new sister.
Leila, Richard’s date, is amazing; she’s petite and blonde like a tiny hurricane in a teapot. She introduced herself to me with a hug and a giggle and then poked fun at Jake mercilessly, highlighting a real friendship there. I fell in love with her spirit and hyper energy as soon as she blew on deck, always smiling and the center of fun and hilarity.
Like me, Vincent’s date, Marissa, is small and tawny-haired, although hers is browner with highlights. She’s curvy and has an almost exotic look, like Jennifer Lopez, only sulkier with more curves. I really disliked something about her immediately; she has been arrogant and icy toward me since the second I arrived hand in hand with Jake at the airport.
The other girl, Daniel’s lady of the moment, is a mirror image of most of the women he’s dated in the past. Her name is Miracle; I assume it’s a porn name. She’s tall, slim, and seems to be all brown hair, boobs, and legs. She’s hanging over Daniel’s arm, practically licking him.
It has not been lost on me that Marissa and Miracle swoon and pout whenever Jake appears. However, Leila seems oblivious to his charms and spends her time crooning over Richard adoringly.
Jake is looking as handsome as always. He's topless with ruffled hair and his usual sleek shades and wearing knee-length shorts that showcase his desirable physique, bad boy tattoos, and tanned skin. Not staring at him half-naked has been challenging, even awkward at first, considering he’s my boss, and I have never seen him topless before except in internet pictures. He is a lot sexier in the flesh.
He’s been swimming with Daniel in the ocean, topping up that Italian tan, looking jaw-droppingly yummy. Despite that, after being here almost two days, I’ve managed to relax a lot and start on my tan.
Before our trip, I was met by Donna laden with bags of clothes suitable for a tropical getaway, and I threw Jake an accusatory glare. It wasn’t hard to figure out that he was behind the non-stop purchasing. He’s since promised to limit Donna’s gold card to a budget under my direction and stop reaching for her number anytime he is obsessed with dressing me up like a Barbie doll.
I’m wearing a bikini that’s a lovely shade of coral and a matching sarong around my waist in a pale print. I’m not really a bikini wearer, but I don’t feel so self-conscious now that two women’s breasts are jaunting around on deck before me. The men must be used to the spectacle, as none seem to pay any attention to the naked boobs. This surprises me; in fact, Jake appears to avoid looking that way at all. Totally un-Carrero of him.
I’m leaning against the rail near the front of the yacht, absentmindedly watching the gentle waves, aware of his presence as soon as he comes close. Even a couple of feet away, my skin prickles at his proximity. It’s that warm tingling feeling whenever he’s around, an aura of safety and familiarity.
“Here.” He hands me a bottle of cold, flavored water with a smile, his eyes shielded from view by his Ray-Bans.
“Thanks.” I open it and take a long drink. I didn’t realize how dehydrated I was, maybe a little too heated with his topless body so close.
“You look nice.” He appraises me through tinted lenses, and I wait for the sexual banter or joking come-ons, but it doesn’t happen. I’ve noticed since our arrival that flirty, always-giving me-the-charm Jake has been reigned in. He’s being respectful.
“Thanks.” My cheeks warm. His eyes are skimming my swimsuit, appraising me, and I turn away so he doesn’t see how awkward it’s making me. Bikini-wearing is a new sensation; I have to acclimatize to it. I also don’t want to stare at his expanse of naked torso; it’s an understatement to say he looks hotter than hot. Up close, it’s hard not to admire what being a fitness freak has done to that chiseled body.
“We’re going to the shore tonight for dinner. You want to come?” He’s looking across the calm water that stretches out to the horizon, sparkling peacefully, distracting him.
“Sure,” I smile back at him. I shield my eyes from the sun, and he automatically swipes his sunglasses from his face to mine, sending a slight shimmer of warmth through me, like his thoughtfulness always does. My attentive Jake. I can’t help but beam at him. I feel like I’m always doing that nowadays.
“I really should carry a pair of these,” I laugh, but he shrugs it off.
“They look better on you than they do on me. Your cuteness just goes with my shades,” he winks adorably.
That’s doubtful, as he has a knack for buying things that just increase the level of sexiness he exudes.
“Where are we going for dinner?” I ask, trying to distract myself from staring at his face, shoulders, rippling chest, and carved abdomen … Oh lord.
“Some little seafood place Marissa knows.”
“I want to get my hair cut while we’re here. Do you think there are any hairdressers on the mainland?” I regret asking as he turns toward the three women sunning themselves on deck, two of them topless and watching him studiously.
“Leila will know; she comes here a lot.” He nods toward the only one wearing a bikini. I resist the urge to ask him if he’s slept with any of the three women, but I know it’s probably likely. I know how these rich men pass around their beauties between them, like some sort of guy’s club, the women only too eager to please.
I notice Marissa watching him coolly, a strange expression on
her face. He catches her eye, flexes his jaw, and turns away quickly; a sudden sharp pain in my chest pushes me. Before thinking through my impulsive observation, I ask, “You know Marissa well?” I blink toward him, and he pauses for a second. So does my heart rate.
“Once.” There’s a coolness to his voice, and he stares off toward the distant horizon; it sends trepidations through me. This side of him mystifies me when he clams up and doesn’t speak. It doesn’t happen often, but it makes me anxious, as he’s usually always so forthcoming. Jake never acts weird around women he used to date either; usually, they always know they will be temporary, and most stay friendly after. I glance at her again, watching her biting her lip and lustfully staring at his powerful body.
I hate her already.
“Want to come for a swim with me?” His voice slices through my wandering thoughts: visions of the two of them passionately entangled as I stab her in the head.
Stop it, Emma! What the hell?
“Now?” I blink, shaking the horrifying images out of my brain.
“Why not?” he smiles at me, watching me closely; I’m sure he’s waiting on the magical moment he’s expecting to see on this trip where I unwind and chill out. And I am trying to relax. It’s hard to do, though, when two of your vacation buddies keep mentally undressing your date so openly; well, companion, not date, because we are not dating, not that we ever would. I’m regretting not coming alone with him after all.
Maybe it would have been easier without the playboy bunnies over there trying to eye-screw him.
“Sure.” It beats watching them writhing on deck suggestively as their men toss back martinis while listening to bass-pounding dance music and snorting lines of cocaine. I’m glad that’s not something Jake has done around me or admitted to anyway. He’s never mentioned Daniel’s frequent use of drugs or that he’s ever joined in with him. I think I would cry if Jake were doing it now.
We wander to the platform at the stern, and I strip off my sarong, admiring Jake as he expertly dives in, and I follow him.
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