Can't Get Enough (Skyland, #3)(99)

“Mmmm,” she mumbles into the kiss, pulling back and breathing hard. “I’m sure this boat doesn’t drive itself. Is there someone we’re giving a show for free?”

I laugh and nod, slowly withdrawing my fingers and leaving a damp trail down the inside of her thigh.

“You’re right. There’s like a crew of thirteen somewhere.”

She glances around the deck of the yacht. “Surely this place has a bed.”

“It does indeed. Not to mention a sundeck, swimming pool, sauna, jacuzzi, and a helipad.”

“And a chef somewhere. Dinner was delicious, by the way. Thank you.”

“Glad you enjoyed. Thought I’d give Laurenz the night off.”

“It’s been the perfect last night.” Her face falls. “I’ll miss your father and Laurenz.”

“That’s all?” I tease, gathering her closer, pressing the length of our bodies together.

“Of course not. I’ll miss your twenty-four-karat gold sheets and your ocean and your yacht.” She leans forward and nibbles at my bottom lip. “And you a little. Thank you for making my last night here so special.”

“It’s not over yet.”

“I know. You mentioned a bed.” I set our glasses aside on a nearby table.

“Yes, but first,” I say, walking over to the wall and adjusting the volume so the song I’ve had on repeat can actually be heard. “We dance.”

“I thought you said you don’t dance,” she teases, hands on hips.

“I said I do under the right circumstances.” I take her in my arms as the first strains of one of jazz’s most iconic tunes floods the salt-tinged air around us. “You are all my right circumstances.”

Hendrix rests her head on my shoulder, and I sigh as the sound of the trumpet relaxes me. “What is this? I’m not a jazz girl.”

“It’s Miles Davis’s ‘Blue in Green.’ It’s one of Pop’s favorites songs. I love it, too.”

She sways against me, a soft weight and a sweet armful. “What do you like about it?”

I let the song wash over me for a few seconds, and it’s jazz, as cool as the ocean breeze.

“It was one of my mother’s favorites,” I say. “And they used to dance in the living room to it. This and ‘In a Sentimental Mood,’ or ‘It Never Entered My Mind.’ They loved jazz.”

She brushes her fingers across the nape of my neck and smiles.

“I also love the mute Miles is using on his trumpet in the beginning,” I say. “It’s this sound that could blast, could be so loud, but he restrains it, and it feels that much more powerful because he holds it back. And then Coltrane comes in with the sax, which is such a human-sounding instrument, I can almost hear the words even though it’s all music.”

“You think there are words?” She smiles at me indulgently as our bodies sway and the tiniest breeze, a breath of ocean, stirs the air.

“Yeah, I think there are words that aren’t said, but speak to the soul. That’s the beauty of jazz. You have to have a receptive soul to truly appreciate it. For it to speak to you.”

“What are the words?”

I hear them clearly, the words left like clues wedged between the notes, but I’m not sure it’s time to say them so I just shrug and press her head to my shoulder for the rest of the song.

“I’ve never danced under the moon floating on a super-yacht before.” She giggles, which is an almost frivolous sound coming from someone like Hendrix. I’d love to make her laugh that way more, like she doesn’t have a care. I want her to not have a care. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, but I have one more thing.” I reach into my pocket and pull out a velvet bag. “Now before you freak out, I’m going down on my knee, but it’s not a proposal. I promise.”

“Truly, thank you for that warning because that would have freaked me the hell out.”

“Figured as much.” I chuckle, sinking to one knee and wiggling her foot out of the leather sandal she’s wearing.

“Mav, what are you…” She laughs down at me as I pull her now-bare foot onto my knee. “What is happening right now?”

I fish a chain from the velvet bag and fasten it around her ankle. The gold chain links interspersed with diamonds glint in the moonlight. What sparkles brightest is the unicorn charm dangling against the smooth skin of Hendrix’s ankle bone. All head and horn made of diamonds with sapphires for eyes.

“Oh, God.” Hendrix’s eyes zip from her foot on my knee to my face. “You got me a unicorn.”

“I know you have to find your own billion-dollar company, but this is just keeping the dream in front of you.” I chuckle, feeling like a punk. “It’s probably silly. I—”

“Shut up,” Hendrix cuts in, coming down to the floor on her knees in front of me and taking my face between her hands. “Just shut up. You should be kissing me already.”

When we kiss, it’s rapturous and ravenous, all growls and teeth and claws. We barely make it to the stateroom, leaving our clothes in a ragged trail on the floor. She takes me inside of her again, and I don’t know if I’m losing myself or growing into something more, someone better because she chooses me. Because we have each other. “Blue in Green” is an untiring serenade that floats over the entire ship as we make love, and even though I don’t say the words hidden beneath the haunting music, the words are all I hear.