Meg took a step and caught her heel in the space between the planks. Fortunately, Jason was quick and kept her from face-planting on the dock. Meg was hanging on to the lapels of his jacket, and Jason’s arms were firmly around her, holding her close to his chest. When he looked into her face, he raised an eyebrow. “You’re a danger to yourself.”
“No, the dock isn’t even.”
“I’ve been watching you for the last month. You’re as big a klutz as you were when you were ten.”
Meg pushed against him and tried to wiggle away.
“Oh, no,” he said. “If I let you walk up the gangway, it’s likely you’ll end up in the drink.”
“You’re being mean. It’s not even twenty feet long. I can walk.”
“Nope.” As she tried to push away one more time, Meg was held firm and then scooped up into Jason’s arms. “I’ll carry you so you don’t break your neck.”
“Put me down!”
“Hell, no. Not only is it dangerous, I’ll lose the chance to cop a feel of your ass. Which I should be allowed to do, since we’re married.”
“What? Cop a . . . Put me down, Jason!”
“Those shoes are lethal weapons,” he said, glancing at her feet. They were hard to walk in, but she loved her shoes. Loved them. They were open-toed and sexy and sparkly and completely impractical, but they weren’t dangerous.
“I love them.” Meg admired her feet, which were sticking up in the air. “I might wear them with my pajamas.”
That’s when Jason’s hand did a long slow slide along her backside. It was warm and delicious, and he was looking right at her, grinning like he had a secret. Meg looped her arms around his neck and planted a light kiss on his collarbone. Jason drew in a long breath and caught her gaze. God, she wanted him so badly.
Maybe the wine was making her act like this, maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t had sex in three years, or maybe Meg wanted nothing more than to feel close to someone. But the desire, the burn, was brutal. The feel of his hands on her, his scent, his sweet breath . . . and he was her husband. All hers, and Meg just wanted to enjoy it. Meg wanted him, but this relationship was about keeping things safe and platonic and separate.
But it was such a beautiful night and they’d had an amazing day, and then he touched her and all Meg’s resolve dissolved. How was a girl supposed to resist a scene like this? Or better, how was she supposed to resist a man like him?
“I like this cologne,” she whispered.
“Thank you. Are you drunk?”
“A little, I think.”
“You think? I need you to be really sure.”
They were standing on the gangway, frozen in the same spot as they were when she kissed him. Hoping for more of a reaction, her lips went a little higher and touched his Adam’s apple.
“What do you want, Meg?”
Her eyes met his and held, and that’s when she gave herself up. “I want you. I know I’m not supposed to, but I . . . I . . .”
And that’s when the bubble burst.
***
Jason held on to Meg, his erection raging, and the only thing he could think of when she said she wanted him was that he hoped he could hold on long enough to enjoy her a little. Cradling her in his arms, her gown falling around them, her breasts swelling out of the top, he was wondering how long it would take to get her out of her dress. This was a woman who should be naked all the time—gorgeous, round, not afraid of being sexy. He wanted her tangled in his sheets, writhing under him while he enjoyed every inch of her. If a marriage could be based only on sex, he’d never divorce her.
“God, Meg, are you sure?”
“Hello there, you two!”
Meg’s eyes squeezed shut, and Jason looked up to see Harper, hanging over the rail of the top deck. He had no idea what she was doing on board, but he pretty much figured his chance at getting sex vanished. Meg hated Harper, with good reason after what had happened last week. He’d spent three days making sure his fiancée wasn’t going to leave him at the altar. In the end, her loyalty to his sister and Molly kept her from calling the whole thing off.