The Devil and the Deep - By Amy Andrews Page 0,48

moment to process that. Would Rick have made a move a long time ago had her father not been all Neanderthal about his daughter?

She’d known there was an undercurrent between them as teenagers but it had all ended abruptly that day and she’d figured it was for the best.

But maybe Rick had always pondered the what-ifs too?

Stella used her right hand to push up from the deck, wincing slightly. ‘Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not a little girl any more, Rick. And my father is dead.’

Rick’s gaze dropped involuntarily to her boob tube. ‘Yeah.’ He grimaced as he returned his gaze to her face. ‘I noticed.’

Stella laughed at his forlorn reply. ‘I got breasts, sorry.’

He looked at them again. ‘Yes, you did. It was simpler when you didn’t.’

She frowned. ‘I’ve had them for a long time, Rick—what changed this time?’

He looked at her. That damn book. Pleasure Hunt. Thanks to Nathan and years of platonic childhood memories he’d managed to keep perspective in his dealings with Stella.

Until the book.

But his perspective was currently shot to hell.

‘The moonlight?’ he lied. He somehow didn’t think she’d approve of him using her book for his own ends. ‘I don’t know.’ He shrugged. ‘I guess it’s never been an issue before. We’ve never been alone before. Not like this.’

She thought about it. ‘You’re right, I don’t think we have.’

They looked at each other for a long moment. ‘I think we’d regret it, Stel. In the long run. We have all these great memories of growing up together. Summer holidays on the Persephone. Bringing up Spanish coins from the ocean floor. Playing mermaid and pirate.’

Although perhaps that wasn’t the best memory to bring up now...

‘And when I look at you, that’s what I see—how you and your father embraced me as part of the family. They are such fond memories, Stel. They mean a lot to me. I don’t want to ruin them by giving in to this...crazy thing. It wouldn’t be the same between us any more no matter how hard we tried. And I like what we have.’

Stella knew he was making sense but, right now, she liked what they’d been having five minutes ago more. She could still feel the surge of blood tingle through her breasts and between her thighs. Just the bob of the boat was almost enough to push piano-wire-taut muscles into delicious rapture.

God, why was he so bloody gallant? She’d probably only needed another minute or so and she would have been well satisfied. Embarrassed for sure. But not going off to bed with her hormones still raging and bitching at her to boot.

Well, if she had to sit on her hands the next few weeks and pretend that he hadn’t almost made her come with just a kiss, then she was damned if she was going to play fair.

‘Fine,’ she huffed, pushing past him, heading for her cabin. ‘Glad I packed my vibrator after all.’

Rick blinked. ‘You brought a vibrator?’ Hell, she owned a vibrator?

She stopped and turned. ‘I’m a grown woman, Rick. I have needs.’ She turned and continued on her way.

Rick shut his eyes on a silent groan as a particularly graphic image entered his head. ‘Not helping, Stel,’ he called after her, his gaze transfixed by the swing of her hips.

She smiled over her shoulder at him. ‘Sweet dreams.’

* * *

Rick did not have a good night.

Every time Stella’s bell jingled he strained to hear. What, he wasn’t sure. A sigh? A moan? Those soft whimpery noises she made at the back of her throat?

Oh, God, those soft whimpery noises were not conducive to sleep.

And what if he had heard them? Would it make it any easier lying alone on the moral high ground knowing she was getting off? Knowing that he could have been in there with her, helping out?

Kissing her more.

Touching her more.

No!

It was hard now but at the end of the voyage and for the rest of the years to come, they’d be glad they were sensible. Glad they hadn’t gone past the point of no return.

Maybe one day they’d even laugh about it.

Maybe.

* * *

Rick got the boat under way by eight the next morning. Stella hadn’t put in an appearance and sitting around thinking about all the reasons she might be sleeping late, including a bone-deep sexual satisfaction, was not improving his mood.

It was another glorious day and losing himself in the familiar routine of setting sail seemed like a better alternative than wondering what