I opened my mouth, ready to argue, but something in his stare warned me against it. I took a deep breath, in through my nose and out through my mouth, and then I pushed up onto the sink and crossed my arms.
I’d let him clean my cut and then I’d get the hell out of there. I’d rather sit up on the sundeck by myself than deal with his brooding crap.
He knelt down on the floor and slid my foot out of my sandal. I stared at the wall behind his head as he cleaned the wound and rifled through the first aid kit.
“It doesn’t look too bad,” he said as he tore open a Band-Aid.
I tightened my arms across my chest and ignored him. Instead, my mind ran through what had just happened a few minutes earlier.
“What’s gotten into me? You.”
You.
The tight ball of tension in my stomach uncoiled and then wound into something darker, sexier, needier. Julian wanted me. He’d just admitted it.
I nibbled on my bottom lip as he wound the Band-Aid around my toe. He tossed the wrapper into the garbage, zipped up the first aid kit, and tossed it into the sink beside me.
When he finally stood, he interrupted my view of the wall so that I was instead forced to stare at his chest. It rose and fell with that same wild rhythm as before.
My mouth opened, but no words slipped out.
It was a matter of seconds, milliseconds, nothing-seconds before he slammed the door, confining us both in the small space. There had hardly been room to move before he’d stepped inside, and now I was stuck. Stuck sitting on the sink as Julian blocked my only escape route.
I fought to breathe, fought to see past the next few moments. It was impossible; I couldn’t see beyond those four walls. I couldn’t see beyond that eight square feet of space.
I turned to reach for the door handle, to push it open and get some fresh air, but Julian was faster. He caught my hand in his and held it down against the sink. I couldn’t move my fingers beneath the weight of his grip.
“Julian—”
You’re drunk.
You’re my boss.
You’re too sexy, too old, too everything.
Every possible ending to my sentence fell short as I met his eyes and found a look of such burning desire that I was rendered speechless.
“Tell me to leave, Jo,” he insisted.
I couldn’t.
“I’ll leave and then you can go right back to flirting with those guys upstairs,” he said, leaning forward and gripping my waist.
“They all think you’re so sexy. They think they could be the one to have you.”
His fingers tightened around my waist and I clenched my teeth together. There was a tipping scale inside of me. On one side, my anger boiled over, so ready to snap at him for acting like he owned me. On the other side—the side that I knew was about to tip—was my desire to finally know what it felt like to succumb to Julian.
One second we were two people with separate lives and separate desires, and the next we were together, so achingly in need of one another that I thought I’d scream until my voice gave way. He picked me up off the bathroom sink and we collided into the bathroom wall. I gasped, scared that every single person above could hear the ruckus we were making.
His fingers dug into my hip, scraping my skin and making me cry out.
“You’re being an asshole,” I hissed.
He kneed my legs apart and I wound a leg around his hip, pulling him closer.
“You look so fucking good. It’s driving me insane.”
I yanked his hair. Hard. He reared back and stared up into my eyes. Those hazel irises were clouded with lust, so dark and tempting that I feared what they could do to me if I only let them.
The challenge was there, written in our body language. He ground himself against me and I tightened my leg around his waist. His fingers slipped beneath the material of my bikini bottom and I let my fingers slide down the back of his neck.
“Do it,” I told him, staring straight into his eyes. “Just do it so we’ll know.”
I watched his chest rise and fall. Once. Twice. And then his lips were on mine, crushing me back against the wall. It fucking hurt to be slammed into the side of the boat. I fisted his hair and tilted my head, trying so hard to keep up, knowing full well that I never could.
The match was lit and the blaze that grew between us was spreading beyond our control. My skin burned with it as he untied the knot behind my neck. The thin material of my bikini top slid away and just like that, I was completely bared for him. So exposed that I wanted to squirm away from his gaze. It was too much. I knew he’d be too much.
The deep groan that followed as he cupped my breasts spread the burn through my body. His mouth dipped to taste my skin, kissing down the very center of my chest, over the swell of each breast.
I gripped his shoulders and let my head tip back, too weak to carry the burden any longer. He propped me up onto the sink and I wound my legs around him.
I ripped the hem of his shirt as I tried to pry it over his head. He resisted, not wanting to let go of me for even a second.
“Julian,” I groaned, frustrated that he wasn’t giving me the access to him that I craved.
He growled and ripped the shirt off his head, practically splitting the fabric down the middle.
I untied the string of his swim trunks and the material sagged down. The dark hair that was sprinkled across his chest led down the center of his pants, down to what I craved most. He didn’t even seem to notice. He was enamored by me, spreading his touch over every inch of skin he could reach.