Wherever It Leads(102)

“Let’s just get a boat and go.”

“Are you serious?” I smile.

He nods slowly, a grin slipping across his face like he’s becoming more sure of the idea as the moments pass. “Yeah, actually. I am.” He leans up, the robe slipping and showing a lot of his chest. It’s hard not to be distracted. “Let’s just go. I’ll get a boat and a captain and we can just float away. Eat. Sleep. Fuck. Swim.” His eyes dance like a little boy on Christmas morning. “Come on. Let’s do it.”

“Fenton,” I start, sitting up myself. “I have school. I’m supposed to go back in a month.”

“Think about everything that’s happened, Brynne. With Brady, with me, with . . . life. Everything can be over in a minute. Everything can change. What happens if you never enjoy it?”

“I have to graduate at some point. I’ve already taken a semester off and now I have to basically quit my job. They’ll probably fire me today if I don’t quit anyway. I’m not a stellar employee,” I laugh.

“Fine. Skip a semester and I’ll pay you full-time wages to go with me.”

“We are not back to this again!”

He grins. “It worked for me before.”

“No, that part of it almost got you thrown out.”

“You were always going to go,” he teases.

“I really wasn’t.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re so full of shit.”

I can’t help but laugh, my heart light with playful Fenton back. “Full of shit or not, I don’t really think I can.”

“Please?”

“Can we talk about it later?”

He shrugs and I can tell he’s disappointed. His shoulders fall forward and his gaze drifts to the sea.

What would happen if I didn’t go back to school? He’s right, I know that. Life is so damn unpredictable. What would happen if something happened to me tomorrow? What would be more important—that I had another history course under my belt or that I spent a month at sea with Fenton?

“Hey, Fent,” I say, licking my lips nervously. I’m not sure this is the right answer, but my heart says it is and I know now, one-hundred percent, that’s the one thing I should trust.

“Yeah?” He draws his gaze towards me and sighs.

“Let’s do it.”

“Let’s do what?”

I groan, standing, trying not to trip over the length of the robe, and straddle him on the chair. I maneuver so that his robe drapes off the sides and my * is sitting on top of his cock. It springs to life, thickening under my body. I smile. “Let’s go drifting away.”

“You mean . . .” He grabs my hips, his fingers searing my skin, and I move myself over him.

“Yeah. I mean. Let’s get a boat and a skipper or whatever you call it and go see shit.”

“Language, rudo.”

“Exactly. It’s just language,” I tease. “But I’m going to wear bikinis, so if that’s going to be an issue . . .”

His eyes light up again and my heart dances. I lift up on my toes and he grabs his cock and guides it into me. I sit down, the fullness taking my breath away.

“I’ll get a female captain,” he says roughly, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“You do that,” I breathe.

I begin to move, my clit rubbing against his hardness, and his gaze doesn’t bend from mine. It’s different this time, in the bright sunlight. Besides a couple of cotton robes, there’s nothing between us. And it’s never felt better.





“Turn here.” I point to my right and Fenton pilots his car onto my parents’ street. “I’ve never been so grateful for window tint before.”

Lining both sides of the street as we get closer are media trucks. Reporters stand on the sidewalks, along with some neighbors, old acquaintances, and other busybodies wanting to get a glimpse at Brady.

I send a quick text to my father and watch as almost immediately the garage door pulls open. “Dad opened the door. Just pull in the second bay.”

As the car slows, people try to peer in and see who we are. Brady is already home, but they apparently don’t know that.

I glance at Fenton to see his jaw pulsing. “Are you okay?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t quite believe you.”

“I’m just nervous.”

“About what?” I laugh. “Seeing my family?”

“Uh, yeah,” he says, hitting the driveway. “This isn’t a normal ‘meeting the family’. I was your brother’s employer. Your brother went missing. Are you sure your father isn’t going to try to slice my throat?”

“I’m sure, babe.”

The car stops inside the garage and the door closes swiftly behind us. We wait to open the doors until it hits the ground.

“It’ll be fine,” I whisper before opening my door. I’m at the front of the car before Fenton gets out, his hands shoving in his pockets. “Relax.”

“I’m trying.”

I pull a hand out of his pocket and lace my fingers through his. We take the couple of steps into the house. My entire family is in the kitchen, crock pots and cookie sheets lining every available spot.