She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer with a desperate urgency. He tore her shirt off, leaving her only in a delicate lace bra. His eyes darkened as he traced every curve of her body.
"You are dangerously beautiful, Stella," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.
A smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she tilted her head, locking her gaze with his. Without hesitation, their lips collided again, the heat between them intensifying as the rain began to pour, drumming against the windows of the yacht.
The vessel rocked beneath them, but nothing mattered in this fleeting moment. All that existed was the rush of their passion, a storm of desire. Simon's lips moved down to her neck, his hands roving over her smooth skin, trailing over the soft curve of her stomach.
The waves outside surged higher, but Simon was undeterred. With a single, fluid movement, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to their room, where he set her down on the bed with an almost feral urgency. Hovering above her, his lips captured hers in another searing kiss, as her arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer, deeper.
Their bodies pressed together, seeking more, grinding against one another in a perfect rhythm of tension and release
But then, a loud clattering noise shattered the moment, coming from somewhere on the yacht. They froze, their bodies still pressed together, but their minds now alert, aware of the shift in the atmosphere.
Stella's breath came in shallow gasps as Simon looked down at her, his eyes dark with a mix of frustration and concern.
"Stay here. Don't come out," he ordered, his voice low and commanding, before quickly moving away from the bed.
Stella, still dazed, nodded, but her body was trembling with a mix of excitement and confusion. She watched him leave, her chest rising and falling with every breath. The room felt cold without him beside her.
A tense silence filled the space. Stella lay there, her heart racing, her mind buzzing with thoughts she couldn't quite capture. But then, everything went quiet.
When Simon returned moments later, he found Stella lying unconscious on the floor. Panic surged through him as he rushed to her side, his instincts kicking in. He lifted her gently into his arms, cursing under his breath, wondering what had happened during the short time he was gone.
An hour later, Stella's eyes fluttered open. Her head throbbed faintly, but the first thing she saw was Simon, his piercing gaze fixed on her, worry etched into every line of his face.
"What happened?" she asked, her voice hoarse as she pushed herself upright on the bed.
"You fainted, Stella," Simon said, his tone soft but urgent. "What happened? Are you alright?"
Stella frowned, retracing the events in her mind. The heat of their passion, the sudden clattering noise, Simon leaving the room. And then... nothing. A blank space where her memory should be. But as she pieced it together, a realization struck her like lightning.
Her breath caught. Her thoughts became a whirlwind, rushing back to her.
They were making out. The sound had startled them. Then—she fell unconscious. And... Mallory.
Her green eyes widened in shock, a gasp slipping past her lips. "Mallory," she whispered, the name trembling with disbelief.
Simon straightened, his expression darkening. "What about Mallory?" he demanded, his voice low and controlled, though she could sense the storm brewing beneath it.
Stella's gaze met his, and for a moment, she felt the weight of his protectiveness. She took a steadying breath, forcing herself to regain composure. "It's nothing to worry about," she said softly, her voice steadying. "She wanted to tell me something, that's all. She... she must have used a spell to talk to me. I remember hearing her voice."
Simon's posture eased slightly, the tension in his shoulders loosening, though his eyes remained sharp as he studied her. "What did she try to tell you?" he asked, his tone still holding a note of concern.
Stella frowned, her brows knitting together as she searched her mind. Fragments of something distant and intangible lingered on the edges of her memory, like whispers carried away by the wind. She closed her eyes, willing the pieces to come together.
Moments passed, and Simon waited, his gaze unwavering as he watched her struggle.
Finally, she opened her eyes, meeting his expectant gaze. Her lips parted, but only a quiet, uncertain sigh escaped. "I... I don't remember," she admitted, frustration evident in her voice.
Simon's jaw clenched briefly, but he quickly softened his expression, stepping closer. His hand brushed against her cheek, grounding her. "It's alright," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "We'll figure it out. Whatever it is, we'll handle it together."
Stella nodded, comforted by Simon's steady presence. Yet deep down, the shadow of Mallory's spell lingered, its purpose a mystery that refused to be ignored. The unease churned within her, refusing to let her rest.
Without a word, she got out of bed, grabbing her phone as she moved to the couch. She sat down, her fingers swiftly dialing Mallory's number. Simon's sharp gaze followed her every move, his concern evident.
"We need to stay on the yacht for two days," Simon said, his tone calm yet cautious. "There's a storm near the island."
Stella gave a distracted nod, her attention fixed on the phone as the ringing echoed in her ear. Finally, the line connected.
"Mal!" Stella's voice was anxious, her words rushing out. "You were in my dream, or... maybe it wasn't a dream. You talked about something, but I don't remember what it was!"
"What do you mean you don't remember?" Mallory's voice came through the phone, sharp and questioning.
"I don't know! I just—I woke up, and it's all blank!" Stella's frustration was palpable.
There was a pause, and then Mallory's voice returned, quieter but laced with urgency. "I needed to tell you something about Naomi."