He arched a thick brow. “In London, you mean.”

  My stomach twisted. “How?”

  “The singing,” he said. “I recognized your singing.”

  “Wha— No.” I shook my head. “No, I mean…really?”

  He nodded and said something that would forever make a little part of me swoon. “I will always recognize your voice.”

  Heat bloomed in my cheeks, and I dropped my gaze. The warmth of my blush spread throughout my limbs, through my chest and found focus in the apex of my thighs. I clenched my legs together, hoping he wouldn’t notice and that it would save me from the ache. It didn’t, not when confronted with the fact that my stranger from London stood inches from me, and I was exposed. There were no masks or illusions to blanket myself in. He could see me.

  “How the hell did this happen?” I asked, forcing myself to meet his eye once more.

  “I don’t understand.” He’d begun to look at me as though I’d lost my mind. Perhaps I had.

  “The only reason I’m here is because someone got hurt and a friend of mine works on this boat,” I said. “How the hell did I end up on a yacht with a guy I played with years ago?”

  Michele said nothing. I didn’t expect him to speak. I likely sounded like a crazy person, but with my mind fraying, how else could I sound? It had trouble calculating the odds of me ending up on a boat with the last man who had made me feel anything.

  I had been stuck in my own mind for long enough that Michele spoke up again.

  “Do I make you uncomfortable, Miss Hurst?”

  I lied outright. “No. No, of course not.”

  “Are you certain?”

  My response was slower to come. I had to find the proper words, the right way to phrase how he made me feel without exposing myself further.

  “It’s not discomfort, Mr. Sacchi.”

  “Is it fear, then?”

  “What?”

  “Do I frighten you?”

  His accent sent shivers down my spine. His voice remained soft, calm, and it caused me to breathe deep. I found that the longer I stared into his eyes, the longer I stood near him, the harder it became for me to keep the truth to myself.

  I wish I knew what his power was. At least then I could combat it.

  “Yeah, but I—”

  Michele watched me, waiting patiently for me to continue.

  “I don’t know if it’s good or bad yet.”

  You’re an idiot, I thought to myself. You should’ve just let him leave.

  “Good or bad.” He slid his hands into his pockets and squared himself on me as best he could in the narrow hall. “How do you mean?”

  “I—”

  Shut up, shut up! He’s a passenger. Just walk away.

  But I didn’t. I kept talking.

  “I can’t tell if I’m afraid of you because I should be, or—”

  Don’t say it!

  “Because I want to be.”

  Stupid, stupid, stupid!

  “Hmm,”

  The regret came in an instant. I’d already admitted something I wished I’d kept internalized. Why not make a complete fool of myself and go for broke?

  As the seconds ticked by, my nerves continued to unravel, and I had no choice but to remove myself from the situation entirely.

  “Excuse me,” I muttered as I attempted to go around him.

  To my surprise, he stepped into my path. Even though I could sense him looking at me, I couldn’t bring myself to meet his gaze. I froze.

  There’s a moment that sometimes passes between two people, a moment in which their energies and desires align. It’s an unspoken sensation, an understanding that words could never fully express, and it happened in that corridor.

  “Do you like to be afraid?”

  A trickle of ice sputtered across the back of my neck and, in spite of everything, the truth began to bubble once more.

  Almost too softly to hear, I mumbled, “Sometimes.”

  Michele shifted his stance, forcing me to do the same. My back touched the wall, and my breathing became shallow. The scent of his cologne filled me once again, sweet and somehow spicy at the same time. It transported me to that night in Labyrinth, to the sensations he created in me and the commanding lust that had threatened to consume me in that dark little room, shackled and bare.

  My heart raced. Blood rushed in my ears and my clit pulsed with desire. He knew what he was doing and, worse yet, he seemed to know what effect he had on me.

  “And now?” He pressed his chest to mine while keeping his voice soothing. “Are you afraid now?”

  I forced my gaze to meet his. The intensity of his stare was something I hadn’t seen since London, an incredible mixture of dark yet needing. It was the sort of thing I’d searched for, but never found afterward.

  “Almost,” I whispered, more than willing to see how far the moment would go.

  Michele knew exactly what to do.

  He reached for my throat and held it just firmly enough to ignite my body. I gasped and a breathy whimper fell from my lips.

  He stood so close that I couldn’t tell where he ended and I began. Each breath entered me, each heartbeat thrummed for him, and when he tensed his fingertips, I thought I would come through my skin.

  “Are you afraid now?” His voice had become deep and rough.

  My eyes drifted shut and my knees turned to jelly, but I did my best to continue speaking.

  Fear had been far from my first emotion. In fact, unbelievable longing consumed me more than I could express, but I knew what he wanted to hear and what I wanted to say to keep it going.

  “Yes.”

  He leaned forward, his forehead coming to rest on mine. His breath glided across my skin and his short beard pricked when our lips brushed.

  He glided his strong hand farther up my neck until he wedged it beneath my jaw, forcing my head back. It became difficult for me not to reach out, a battle I lost when he nipped at my chin and continued to tease a kiss.

  I grabbed his hand, cradling it to my throat. I didn’t want him to remove it or dare to loosen his grasp.

  “You like that, huh?” He pressed his body even harder into mine, grinding his erection into my stomach as he did.

  His words from six years ago trickled into my head. “I could spend the night inside you.”

  “Yes.”

  When Michele clenched his fingers, a soft moan echoed in my throat. I was being overrun, overtaken by an unquenchable desire for the Italian man I barely knew.

  My pussy throbbed with want, desperate and empty, almost begging for him to fulfill his distant promise.

  “How much, I wonder.”

  Too enthralled to care about what would happen beyond that moment, I took his free hand and guided it to where I wanted it, needed it, most. Michele cupped my sex, wedging his hand between my thighs and applying just a hint of pressure, but little else.

  “Tell me,” he said with a growl.

  Defiance roiled inside me, the little spark that would never truly fade.

  “Find out.”

  A dark chuckle met my ears. He didn’t hesitate to comply, unbuttoning my shorts with what seemed to be a flick of his fingers before shoving his hand into my panties, bypassing anything that might’ve separated us.

  There was no hiding my mewling cry of pleasure the moment his sweltering skin touched mine. It’d been a relief, albeit a small one.

  Shoving his body against mine, Michele’s dexterous fingers went to work, parting my pussy lips and tracing my entrance with a single digit.

  “Quite a lot,” he said, his voice twisted into something borderline inhuman. He pressed his digits into my clit, sending a biting spark of pleasure tearing through me. He groaned deep within his chest. “I want to be inside you.”

  There’d been no hesitation on my part to comply. Michele seemed to be asking permission and so, lost to the sensation of him again, I was more than willing to give in.

  “Yes,” I said.

  The finger that’d been teasing me slid effortlessly inside my core, which immediately clamped down around it. So desperate for the man, it didn’t want to let him go.

  He whispered beautiful Italian into my ears, a guttural scrape twisting each word. I wished I’d known what he was saying, but something about the mystery only added to my enjoyment.

  “You like to feel me choke you?”

  He sucked in a sharp breath when he tightened his grip briefly once more and sighed in satisfaction when I began to tremble. He knew how to do it, how to tense then release, tense then release, never obstructing air or blood flow, just reminding me of the power he possessed.

  He slid a second finger inside, pumping them in and out with slow, measured actions.

  A moan laced my words when I said, “I like a lot of things.”

  He seemed to sense my meaning without me uttering it aloud, and I couldn’t tell if I was horrified or glad. I should have been completely horrified. Him knowing my buttons meant he had the potential to press them whenever he wanted, and that could have been dangerous.

  He whispered in my ear, “You like to be dominated.”

  His speed increased while he continued to grind his palm against my clit. I clung to him for balance, clung to the one thing that had become the reason I was slipping.

  “Sometimes.” I choked on the word.

  Every nerve in my body had become electrified, sparking with life after years of dormancy.

  “And other times?” He bit my earlobe, sending another wave of pain-induced pleasure through me.

  “I like…” My voice was stolen when he began to curl his fingers, touching that spot most men didn’t know existed.

  “Yes?” he cooed, delivering another sharp nip to my earlobe.

  “I…like to dominate.”

  He let out an amused breath, as though he wanted to chuckle at the comment, but the situation had wound us both too tight for anything beyond strained speech.

  My breathing became ragged when Michele drew back. Somehow, I gathered the strength to open my heavy lids and found myself staring into eyes so black that they refused to reflect the dim light of the hall.

  Mere inches separated us, and it was too much.

  “I have missed you, bella,” he said. “Missed your cries and the way your face twists with pleasure.”

  As though to prove his point, Michele shoved his fingers so deep that he’d lifted me onto the tips of my toes, then slowly but surely lowered me once again. I panted through parted lips, my face feverish with want. He wasn’t human, not with how he’d overtaken me with such minimal ease. He was something created just for me.

  “I want it again. Want you.”

  His words enveloped me, and in that moment, I had been more than prepared to let him do anything he deemed fit, when something chirped in my ear. It startled me, but not as much as Mrs. Thorne’s voice telling me to come to the kitchen to help Ryan, the chef.

  Michele must have heard the same. While my ear piece hadn’t been turned up very loud, he’d been so close that it was possible he’d overheard my orders. His disappointed expression said as much.

  His body became rigid as he stepped back and stood against the wall across from me. We stared at one another, unanswered emotions coursing through us both with equal intensity.

  With my gaze still locked to his, I touched my collar where the microphone and call button sat and told her I’d be right there.

  Michele continued to stare at me, his full lips parted with heavy breaths, his eyes black with need and his dick straining angrily against his trousers.

  I wanted to reach out and grab him, to stroke his chiseled face, to bite his bottom lip. I wanted to drop to my knees and show him how much I enjoyed his touch.

  Still locked in our silent staring contest, Michele lifted his hand to his mouth and captured his middle and ring fingers. A satisfied groan echoed in his throat while he withdrew them, tasting every inch of me.

  It was a sight I would commit to memory.

  You have to go. Make your feet work.

  “Goodbye, Mr. Sacchi.” My voice had been foreign to me, still tainted by unquenched desire.

  His response had been a grunt of acknowledgment. Doubtful I would get anything more, I turned and left. The ache between my thighs would accompany me for the following hour or more, begging to be slated, and I loved it.

  * * * *

  Late in the evening, I’d served the cocktails and was close to ending my shift, but there were a few things in need of being swept up or cleaned before I clocked out.

  With dinner to be served in the next couple of hours, the responsibility of prepping the dining room fell on my shoulders.

  The chamois cloth left a beautiful surface in its wake as I ran it over the table. I may have made faces at myself once or twice, but it was the best way to know that the surface had been polished appropriately.

  “Good evening, Miss Hurst.”

  A phantom hand enclosed around my throat at the sound of his delicious voice, reminding me of the things I’d spent hours trying to ignore but never forgot.

  Michele entered the living room adjacent to me. The entire space was open, which meant he could see me clearly when he fell into one of the chairs.

  “Good evening, Mr. Sacchi. Is there anything I can get for you?”

  He shook his head. “No, thank you.”

  I offered a smile in return and went back to my work, desperate to keep moving, to keep pretending I wasn’t shaking at his proximity.

  While I straightened the placemats, dusted off the dining room chairs and wiped the nearby knick-knacks, Michele continued to stare. I did my best to ignore him, but he seemed unwilling to be ignored.

  “Tell me your rules.”

  I spun to face him, my brow furrowed. At first, I hadn’t been certain I’d heard him correctly, but there was no way to mis-hear something so simple. When that realization sank in, I began to blush for the hundredth time.

  I had no doubt that my cheeks were crimson. We were no longer hidden within the halls, late at night and away from the world. We were in a room bathed in sunlight, where anyone could walk in on the conversation, and I seemed to be the only one who cared.

  “I don’t think we should talk about this, sir,” I said, returning to busy work.

  “Why not?”

  He tilted his head to the side, still staring at me while I did anything to avoid looking at him. With a clear head, I was able to see the foolishness of what’d happened earlier. London had been six years prior. The setting had been completely different.

  On The Silver Wind, I was at work, on duty at all times, and he was a passenger.

  Minutes ticked by and still I refused to acknowledge him further, and Michele seemed to have reached his limit—or perhaps he simply knew how to make me comply.

  In the deepest, sternest voice I’d ever heard him use, he spoke. “Look at me, now.”

  My insides lurched, shocked by the suddenness of the shift. I immediately did as I’d been told.

  Michele leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together. He stared at me from beneath his brows, equal parts intimidating and alluring.

  “Tell me your rules.” His voice remained hard but laced with curiosity.

  “Why?”

  I didn’t understand why he would care. It wasn’t as though we could start anything. Sleeping with a passenger or fooling around in any way was forbidden. I could’ve been fired, and that needed to be enough for me to suppress all my inclinations, all the feelings I had growing for the handsome Italian. Hell, I’d already fucked up once. I couldn’t risk doing it again.

  Until he said something I never thought I’d hear from another person.

  “I wish to know if they’re similar to mine.”

  I raised a curious brow, staring at the man who’d just hinted at more than I could have expected.

  Seconds became minutes and I hadn’t answered him. I had trouble comprehending our conversation. While I would absolutely assume to discuss such things in a club or some other establishment that catered to my particular preferences, the dining room was not the place.

  And yet…

  “I believe I already know what you like.” He rose to his feet and approached me, gliding across the room. When he stood within arm’s reach, he stopped. “Unless there is more.”

  Defiance rose within me, defiance and sarcasm, and for whatever reason, I allowed it to surface. I had to pretend to have more of a backbone than I’d shown him previously. I had to pretend to be strong around him.

  “There’s always more.”

  His eyes sparkled with excitement. “Tell me.”

  I said nothing. He bristled, and I found myself wondering if he’d react how I wanted.

  “Tell me,” he said, more firmly than before.

  I remained silent.

  Without warning, Michele snatched me by the throat. He spun me, pinning my back to his chest and enveloping me with ease.

  My breathing became shallow, and my pulse raced. The shock of the action vibrated through me, and I knew in an instant that I was in the best kind of trouble.

  I clutched at his arm, holding it tight, but in no rush to pull it away. Michele nuzzled the crook of my neck, his short beard scratching at my skin.

  “Tell me.” He cooed the words. “Do you like this?”

  “Yes.”

  While his hand remained around my throat, the other glided into my hair where he tenderly fisted my locks. I struggled to catch my breath, swimming in anticipation.

  “Do you like pain?”

  “Yes.”

  No sooner than I’d uttered the word did he react. Michele pulled my hair, snapping my head back and causing me to bite down on a cry of pleasure. He growled in my ear before raking his teeth along the slope of my neck.

  I reached up and cradled him to me, unable to keep the longing sigh to myself. While I kept him close, the hand on my throat descended to my chest. Michele groaned as he engulfed my breast. A whimper escaped me at the pleasure of being touched. Meanwhile, his cock pressed against the small of my back. There had been comfort in knowing that I wasn’t alone in the moment.

  My thin cotton bra put up no protection against his demanding touch. While he rolled my breasts in his hand, kneaded and massaged them, my nipples beaded. The moment they pressed against my shirt, Michele found a new focus. Each pinch, each brush of a finger over them, caused my hips to roll and grind against his cock.