Physical Touch

by Hill, Sierra

  “Once you’re on that boat, all you need to do is strut your sexy self around in that red suit and he’s going to forget all about your fickle tirades from before. Trust me, this will work,” Sasha exclaimed excitedly. “And when it does, and you’ve experienced the best sex of your life, you’re going text me to tell me how BIG he is. Or better yet, just send me pictures!”

  Rylie choked out a loud laugh, giggling uncontrollably into the phone.

  “Only one problem, Sash. What if he doesn’t show up for lunch?”

  “He will, girl. He will.”

  ****

  Mitch’s meetings seemed never-ending, boring as hell, and the last place on earth he wanted to be. His concentration was shot to hell and his mind hadn’t been on anything that the other parties were saying. He was distracted beyond belief.

  He glanced down at his watch, which now stated eleven-fifty a.m., the end of his meeting with the city council nowhere in sight. Mitch silently groaned with the knowledge that he wouldn’t make it to the restaurant before Tully and Rylie began lunch. His only hope was intruding somewhere before the end.

  Recalling how greasy Tully acted the day before when he was pawing over Rylie at the game made Mitch bite back a wave of anger. He’d known Tully for years and seen him with plenty of women, often while they were out carousing for the same entertaining pleasures. He never thought of Tully as a sleaze-ball, just a typical single man in his mid-thirties with money to spend and a libido that went with it. The Wolf of Wall Street in Miami, no doubt. A flare of jealousy erupted as Mitch thought about Rylie alone with Tully. Was she laughing at his jokes? Were their knees touching underneath the linen covered table? Was Tully’s arm draped possessively over Rylie’s shoulders, his fingers brushing the fine hairs on the back of her neck?

  Brooding about the what-ifs was just about killing him. Closing his laptop, Mitch pushed his chair back and stood.

  Reaching out to shake their hands, he swung his bag over his shoulder, stepping toward three of the council members.

  “Harold, Joleen, Debra,” he said politely. “I’m sorry to rush off, but I have a lunch meeting I must attend that I’m already late for. I’ll be back in the office on Friday and I’ll look forward to hearing your decision on our building plans. Until then, I appreciate your time. Thank you.”

  If the others in the meeting were surprised over his abrupt conclusion, they didn’t show it. They all shook hands and nodded their goodbyes with the promise to reconvene and give him their decision soon.

  Mitch nearly bolted out the building doors and down to the parking ramp, jamming the key into the ignition and squealing out of his parking space. By his calculation, he would make it to the restaurant by twelve forty-five, assuming he didn’t hit traffic.

  His heartbeat raced in anticipation of joining Rylie and Tully for lunch and potentially interrupting any plans they were making to see each other again. He didn’t think Tully was Rylie’s type, but that wouldn’t prevent him from pulling out all the stops to wine and dine her. Similar to what he was trying to do this week. He laughed at the irony.

  He had no right to think or act the way he did over Rylie. Hell, if she wanted to date Tully, more power to her. But he would damn well make sure she knew what she would be missing out on if she didn’t pick him.

  Throwing the car in park, he opened the door and handed the keys at the valet, who was eagerly waiting at the curb. “I won’t be long,” he said, taking long strides into the Oceanside restaurant.

  Whipping off his sunglasses, he scanned the room filled with dozens of diners. A young hostess wearing a tight fitting black dress stepped around the podium and in front him. “Can I help you, sir? Do you have a reservation or are you meeting someone here?”

  “Yes, I’m meeting someone. Randall Tully? He’s here with a woman.” Mitch nearly said my woman, but caught himself.

  Hostess girl looked over her computer screen and hummed. “Ah, yes. Here they are. Mr. Tully and his guest are sitting out on the deck. Let me take you there.”

  Mitch rudely pushed past her, heading to the back of the restaurant facing the water. “No, that’s okay. I can find them. Thanks, though.” He handed her a five-dollar bill and stalked away toward the patio.

  The sun was bright and the glare off the water had him squinting and averting his eyes from the onslaught of light. Temporarily blinded, he halted his forward movement. He couldn’t see them, but he absolutely, without a doubt, heard the commotion that came from the table to the right, shaded in the corner of the deck.

  “I asked you to get your hand off my leg, Mr. Tully. That didn’t give you liberty to move your hand further up my thigh. If you don’t remove your hand this minute, I’ll be prompted to move it for you.”

  Two seconds later, Mitch heard a deep, agonizing curse. “FUUUUUCKKK!”

  Mitch heard the loud noise of chair legs scraping against the deck floor, the sound of knives and forks being jostled on the table and then a slam of a hand on the table top.

  Her voice was full of fury and hell fire. “That was the sound of me breaking your fingers, Mr. Tully. You should go ice that as soon as possible. And keep that in mind the next time a woman asks you to stop.”

  Mitch snickered quietly, as he stepped back under the deck’s awning just as Rylie appeared around the corner, smacking directly into his chest.

  Looking up at him, Mitch saw the reddened features of Rylie’s face, her eyes turning nearly black with fury and her mouth creased tightly in a thin line.

  “Asshole,” she spit. “Please get me out of here…now.”

  She didn’t have to ask him twice.

  CHAPTER sixteen

  Rylie and Mitch packed a cooler of full of snacks, along with some beer and wine, and headed out onto the yacht for their afternoon excursion. After the less than thrilling morning meetings Mitch had endured and the lunch groping Rylie experienced, they both decided the boat was the best place for them to forget their troubles. Rylie had acquiesced and given in to the sound of a relaxing day out on the water.

  “I know it’s rude to ask,” she said as they climbed on board. “But how much do you think a boat like this is worth?” Rylie had asked out of sheer curiosity.

  Mitch scratched at the stubble on his chin as he placed the cooler and towels onto the deck, taking in the luxury of the vessel. “I’d guess at least a million, if not more.”

  Rylie’s mouth dropped open, mouthing an “O”. She’d never known anyone who could afford a million-dollar yacht. Her people were blue-collar from the streets of Boston and even Jenny Caldwell, her friend from junior high who married a dot-commer who struck it rich, probably didn’t own a boat as big or as luxurious as this one.

  As Mitch stood at the fly bridge helm, working the navigational equipment and preparing for their departure, Rylie went down below to change and take a tour of the entire boat. The yacht was unlike anything Rylie had ever seen.

  Three levels, from the galley below to the fly bridge at the top of the boat, came equipped with three gorgeously appointed staterooms, each with its own bath and marble countertops. There was custom cherry cabinetry in the full-size salon and the galley was covered with marble floors. Two full size decks on both the bow and the stern, with a spiral staircase that connected the space between the floors.

  Stepping inside what she presumed was the Master stateroom, she put down her bag and sat at the edge of the California king-size bed, giving it a little bounce. Mitch appeared in the small doorway, his body filling the door frame completely. Rylie’s face flushed a bright red over being busted testing out the bed.

  A smile twitched on his lips. “Is it too firm or too soft or just right, Goldilocks?”

  Rylie waved her hand dismissively, indicating he was full of it. Feeling the weight of his stare upon her, she sprung to her feet, losing her balance as the boat rocked side-to-side, nearly toppling her back into the bed. Mitch’s hands shot out faster than her own, grabbing her by the waist to steady her on her fe
et, bringing her back to an upright position.

  “Whoa there, beautiful – be careful. You need to get your sea legs under you.” Letting go of her as quickly as he had reached for her, Mitch stepped back into the doorway, his eyes sweeping a path up and down her body. Rylie saw his darkened expression and felt the heat centered in her belly. That always seemed to happen these days.

  “Thanks. I wasn’t expecting the sudden movement.” Rylie smiled and bit down on her lip. “So…you should probably go back up to the helm and steer the ship, sailor. And I’m going to change into my suit.”

  He gave her a wink and an appreciative smile. “I won’t argue with that. I thought we could go snorkeling when we get out to Key Biscayne, if you want. I found all sorts of water sports paraphernalia in the hull. Or we can take the dinghy up to the beach – there’s a beautiful lighthouse at Cape Florida State Park. Or we can just hang on the boat - whatever you want to do.”

  Rylie flushed with excitement. So many options. She thought the snorkeling sounded perfect and told him so.

  “Excellent, we should be far enough out in about thirty minutes and I’ll drop anchor. So go ahead and get changed and take your pick where you’d like to lounge above deck,” he said, using a sweeping motion with his hands. “Aft or bow, there’s plenty of perfect spots to select from.”

  Rylie toyed nervously with the bottom of her nautical striped tank top, feeling the cabin grow increasingly smaller. “Sounds good. I’ll see you up there in a bit.”

  Mitch turned to walk out the door but then stopped just past the threshold, swinging back around.

  “And Rylie. You haven’t mentioned it yet, but I hope you’ll fill me in later on what exactly happened earlier with Tully. Whatever it was, I’m sure he deserved what you gave him…but damn, I was impressed with what I heard. You were badass. I’m glad I haven’t done anything to piss you off.”

  Rylie stifled a giggle, grabbing her bag from the bed and moving towards the Master suite bathroom. “Not yet, at least…”

  She snickered as he turned and shut the door, leaving her alone again. She walked into the large bathroom, complete with full size marble floors and walled shower. It was bigger than her own bathroom in her apartment. Looking down at the skimpy suit in her hands, she began to bite her lip, feeling overly anxious about putting on the swimsuit that Sasha had loaned her to wear. It left very little to the imagination. While she had worn bikinis in the past, she had never felt particularly sexy or beautiful in them. She’d always been taller than most, including guys, and she was gangly through her teens and a bit on the sporty side to be considered a beautiful woman. But when she was around Mitch, all of that changed.

  Around Mitch, Rylie felt wanton and desirable. He made her want to dress up in tight clothes, in short skirts, and run around in a string bikini, flaunting her body at him because she knew he appreciated it. He’d already indicated several times that he wanted her, but she’d botched it up royally, running away each time like a scared school girl. But damn if she didn’t want that to change. Her body said one thing, but her stupid head always mucked things up. This time, she planned on taking Sasha’s advice and let it all go. Take control of her desire and get something she wanted.

  Shimmying out of her shorts and panties, she pulled on the suit over the length of her body. She could do this, she thought confidently, as she turned to look at herself in the mirror. Wowza! Damn she looked good.

  Placing her hands under her breasts, she plumbed them up, turning sideways to view her backside. The red suit looked amazing, hugging every toned inch of her upper body. She felt like she was staring at a completely different person. Not the tomboy from last week, but a sexy, thrill-seeking harlot. Oh yeah, it was on.

  She ran her hands down the sides of her waist, feeling the exposed skin in the cut-out of the suit, pressing further down over the curves of her hips where the bottoms were fastened with flimsy ties. If she had to make one guess, it was that she might very well take Mitch’s breath away. And that, she decided, was exactly what she wanted to do.

  Stealing one last look in the mirror, she grabbed a towel and some sunscreen and headed up the steps to the helm. Not finding Mitch in the lower helm, she climbed another set of wooden stairs to the fly bridge, where he was sitting in the Captain’s chair, his focus toward the front of the boat, looking at ease and relaxed as he navigated the waters.

  “Hey Captain, I’m going to lay out on the sun pad. It looks pretty comfortable out there and it appears that’s where the most sun is hitting right now,” she said, stepping up behind Mitch and pointing toward the area right in front of the fly bridge helm. “Would you do me a favor? If I fall asleep, just wake me up when we anchor.”

  Mitch turned his head to look at her and stopped cold. The expression of desire that ran over his face told Rylie everything she needed to know. He appeared at a loss for words.

  “Cat got your tongue?” she teased, taking full advantage of his dazed mental state.

  Mitch stood there motionless for a few seconds before gesturing with his finger for Rylie to twirl around. “Please…let me see the entire package.”

  Rylie indulged his curiosity and pivoted on her heels, turning in a slow circle. He let out a long, satisfying whistle. “Holy hell. That is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. You. Are. Gorgeous.” He enunciated each syllable in a staccato clip, the desire in his tone unmistakable.

  Still not used to his compliments, Rylie blushed again, wrapping a towel quickly around her waist. Just as she started to head out to the front, Mitch grabbed the towel and it came undone, falling to the floor.

  “Come on now. You can’t give me a peep show and then go all modest on me. At least let me ogle you for a little while longer.”

  Picking up the towel from the floor, she stuck out her tongue and wiggled her ass as she walked out on to the deck. “Fine. Ogle all you want.”

  ****

  Shit.

  She was trying to kill him.

  The torture he endured watching her lying out on the lounge chair in front of him the last hour had his cock rock hard and saluting. With every movement she made, flipping over from her front to her back, rubbing lotion over her long, sexy legs or adjusting her cleavage in the fucking fantastic suit she wore, he thought he’d lose it. His eyes wandered over every part of her shapely body and he thought of every spot he would rub his tongue and hands.

  He was harder than he’d ever been. All he could think about doing was walking over to that lounge chair, spreading her legs wide and anchoring himself deep inside her wet, tight body. His dick twitched at the thought.

  He had to find something to do right now before he went fucking crazy. They were close enough to the island now where he could drop anchor, so that’s what he did. Flipping a switch on the control panel, he felt a jerk and then heard the metal sounds of the anchor making its way to the bottom of the bay. Satisfied that they were secure, he turned off the motor and went to the front to wake Rylie.

  He stood over her, watching her rest peacefully, her breathing a nice easy rhythm. Her face held the same beautiful look, just like the one she wore when her head was on his lap on the plane. Her hair was spread out over her shoulders, billowing over her breasts.

  Before his brain even registered his actions, he placed his hands on the back of her neck, nudging her slightly forward in the chair. She stirred, but didn’t fully wake, mumbling something incoherent. He let out a shallow breath and then let his hand move down under the curve of her bottom, scooting her forward, allowing room behind her for him to sit down. Mitch swung his leg over the side of the lounge chair and sat back, nestling his body between her and the back of the chair.

  This was heaven. With her bare back pressed tightly against him, her ass was secured snugly against his erection. Exactly what the doctor ordered. She sighed and laid her head back into the contour of his neck, allowing his face to have access to her neck and shoulders.

  With feather light touches, Mitch’s fing
ertips brushed softly down the side of her arm, tracing figure eight patterns along her warm skin. Rylie let out a long sigh before her eyes flew open and she tensed against him.

  Mitch let out a low and languid whisper against her ear. “Shh…let me make you feel good.”

  He released a warm breath against her neck and his lips began to trace the curve of her ear, as he felt her slowly ease up and melt against him. Rylie’s hands moved to his thighs, her fingers moving in the same pattern as he had traced down her arm.

  He groaned in pleasure. It hurt so good.

  His lips resumed their play as he kissed a path just below her ear, teasing the soft skin with nips and laps of his tongue. His teeth grabbed to bite her earlobe and a moan escaped, her head rolling back to give him more access.

  Mitch continued to kiss and suck up and down her neck, his hands now moving to the front of her neck, caressing down her throat until he reached the swell of Rylie’s lush breasts. Slipping his hand underneath the material of her suit, he cupped her right breast, the pad of his thumb rubbing against the taut skin of her nipple. It turned into a hard pebble under his touch and Rylie jerked in response, as she sucked in a shallow breath.

  “You feel so good. Do you know how you make me feel?” he whispered, his lips pressing against the back of her neck.

  “Yes,” was all she could say in response, as she dug her nails into his legs.

  Feeling encouraged by her gauging fingers, he continued to work the nipple, circling it and coaxing it into a hard, tight peak. He wanted to work her into a frenzy and bring her to the brink of desire, to drown out any conflicting thoughts.

  His hand moved slowly down her stomach, feeling the warm flesh of her abs, where the hourglass material was non-existent. In this position, he was helpless to do anything except touch her with his hands, but he wanted nothing more than to trace the lines of her cut-out with his tongue. Just the thought had his erection pulsing hard against Rylie’s back.