Windsor's POV
When we began this journey, sunlight had been streaming through the yacht windows, bathing everything in golden warmth.
Now darkness had settled over the water like a velvet blanket.
The gentle sway of the yacht was the only sound besides my own breathing. Below deck, the captain was fast asleep in his quarters. Zion and I stood alone on the deck, both wrapped in soft robes that did little to hide what lay beneath.
Though from the heated look in his eyes, I suspected Zion had plans that didn't involve keeping these robes on much longer.
"Zion," I warned, catching that familiar mischievous spark dancing across his features. I was starting to regret admitting earlier that I'd been craving his touch, because he'd clearly taken it as some kind of personal mission.
He was absolutely ruthless when he set his mind to something. A beautiful menace who knew exactly how to unravel me.
"Look up," he murmured, his voice low and hypnotic.
