Too Long: Chapter 9

I STOP COLT as he rises to his feet, outstretching my arm to block his way when we’re about to disembark.

My anxiety hits sky high now that we’re minutes from starting the pretend play.

“The moment we step out of the arrivals hall, we’ll be constantly watched.”

“Got it.”

“No, you don’t,” I hiss, the words coming out sharper than intended. “I mean it, Colt. There are security cameras all over the yacht. The only place we’ll have privacy is our suite, though I expect my family to knock at all hours.” My hand freezes around his wrist as a daunting thought settles in. “God, what if my mother’s installed hidden cameras in our suite?”

“You think she’d risk seeing her daughter in the act? I very much doubt that, Addie.”

“I’m paying you for this week with sex, you muppet!”

He cocks an amused brow, silently reminding me how I teased him last night. My cheeks grow so hot I’m moments from catching on fire. I should’ve slept naked or made a dash to the car for some pj’s. There was no reason to knock on his door, but I was courageous, tipsy and horny, and I wanted to see his reaction so… sue me for flirting.

I knew nothing would happen. He made it very clear how he feels about touching drunk women. It’s one of the things I find so damn attractive about him.

He’s every bit my type. Broad shoulders, tattoos, and deep brown eyes. He’s commanding but attentive and makes me feel safe, and there’s that confident, broody bad-boy aura around him, too…

“We established I’m not taking any form of payment for this week,” Colt says. “Your mother doesn’t know we’re not really dating, Addie, and couples have sex. You think she’d want to see you doing ? My performance would traumatize her for life, I assure you.”

I shake the stiffness off my limbs, pretending I didn’t hear the last sentence. It’s raising too many questions.

“You’re right. She’d have a heart attack if a sex tape got leaked. She wouldn’t dare take the risk.”

“Exactly. Now get up, I need a drink.”

“Make it two.”

On wobbly legs—thanks to the landing and what lies ahead—I ascend the steps and Colt immediately takes my hand, lacing our fingers together, his thumb stroking my palm.

Miraculously, it helps. Holding hands with this man I only met two days ago doesn’t feel odd. If anything, it’s unexpectedly pleasant. We stop by the conveyor belt, watching everybody’s luggage but ours parading around.

“I paint,” I say, dropping in some last-minute trivia. “Mostly landscapes, and I play the cello. Oh, and—”

“Relax, Addie.” He pulls me into his side, then dips his head, his warm breath flirting with my ear. “I don’t need your entire biography. We’ll be more believable if I get to say ‘you never mentioned that, baby’ and you reply with ‘now you know’.”

He heaves my suitcases onto a trolley, stacks his on top, and we’re off. I stop him again before we step through the door leading from the arrivals hall to the main airport.

“Thank you for doing this. I owe you a massive favor.”

“I’m getting you drunk ASAP. You’re more fun when you’re mellow and calling me a bellend.” He navigates the trolley with one hand, firmly holding mine in the other. “What does that even mean?”

“In slang, it’s… well, it’s the head of a penis,” I whisper in his ear. “It’s an insult.”

“Okay, rule number one. Don’t whisper in my ear.”

I stop abruptly, earning a playful eyeroll from Colt.

“What now?”

“We haven’t set any rules,” I mouth. “We need rules.”

“Too late now.” He nods at a man in black, holding a sign with written in flowing gold cursive.

“And guest,” I mutter, the blatant omission prickling my annoyance. “We’ll sort out the rules later.”

“What if there are hidden microphones?” he teases.

I elbow him under the ribs and hold my tongue. We’re too close to Felix—the limo driver—to risk a verbal comeback.

“Miss Weston, welcome home. I wasn’t expecting you to have company.” Felix tucks the sign under his arm. “If you will, sir, I’ll handle the luggage,” he adds, taking control of the trolley. “Please follow me.”

Colt cocks an amused eyebrow once Felix has turned his back, sauntering through the airport toward the exit where a sleek, black limousine waits just outside. It shouldn’t be there, but the nearby traffic warden seems not to notice the thirty-foot-long vehicle obstructing the pedestrian crossing.

I squeeze Colt’s hand tighter, a silent warning as he reaches out to open the car door. That’s Felix’s job. The man would have a stroke if he were robbed of his door-opening privileges.

We’re inside a moment later, and I immediately snatch a bottle of bubbly from the limo’s fridge, my hands still shaking. Colt has more than enough evidence to label me an alcoholic, but at this point, I couldn’t care less. I need liquid courage.

“Give me that.” He takes over, opening the champagne with a twist like a pro. With a glass each we settle into the leather back seat.

He has this gig all figured out. Not an ounce of tension in him as he casually throws an arm over my shoulders, pulling me closer, and we sit… so close that our bodies are pressed together, as if cuddling in the back of a limo is such a regular occurrence for us.

“To my first vacation in five years,” he says into my hair.

“What? Why?”

“No desire, time, or company. Make this one memorable for me, Addie.”

I clink my glass to his, feeling bolder with every tiny sip. “I’ll do my best, .”

His response is a low chuckle. “That’s grounds for a spanking. Watch your mouth unless you want to be punished.”

My heart thuds faster and pleasant tingles slide down my arms, making the hairs stand on end. I don’t think the word should have me slick between my thighs, but his husky, suggestive tone tells me I’d love whatever he has in store.

There’s no denying Colt’s a dominant type.

Everything about him screams control and power. From the way he moves to how he stares. It wasn’t so staggeringly intense before, but his warning multiplies his dominance tenfold and it presses into me from all sides.

What’s confusing is how much I enjoy that pressure, that suffocating feeling of being under his command.

I press the rim of the champagne flute to my lips, tipping back half the contents. I should remember how to act like a lady. Gulping champagne like a parched baboon won’t go down well with my elegant mother.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” My voice wobbles, betraying the whirlwind of emotions and thoughts I’m clumsily navigating.

Colt’s lips curl into a smile against my temple, the heat of his breath seeping into my skin. He leaves a gentle kiss there, falling effortlessly into the role of my boyfriend. “Good girl.”

Oh my…

Those two words send shockwaves of desire through my body that settle in a pulsating knot between my legs. Two words shouldn’t have so much power.

shouldn’t have so much power, but the praise, his scent, warmth, and intimacy make me crave him all the more.

Felix helps me out—God bless his soul—as I search for a response to Colt’s teasing. The partition slides down and he spins around in the driver’s seat.

“The itinerary has changed, Miss Weston. You’re set to sail at six o’clock rather than eight. I’m to ensure your safe arrival at the docks as soon as possible. Are there any stops you need to make along the way?”

“No, thank you, Felix.”

His hat tips in acknowledgment before the partition glides shut and he pulls into the bustling traffic.

The jittery anxiety I expected doesn’t grip me as hard while Colt’s thumb traces patterns on my arm, until twenty minutes later when we stop and Felix opens the back door.

“One Island Park,” he announces. “Please make your way to the yacht. I expect your family is already on board. I’ll take care of the luggage.” He nods at the gate to the marina, nestled between towering hedges.

“Which one is yours?” Colt scans four superyachts docked nearby, curiosity and a tiny bit of awe seeping into his tone.

“The biggest one.” I point at . “My dad’s motto is .”

Colt nods, eyeing . She’s a sight to behold, that’s for sure. My father commissioned her four years ago after spending a year with the designer, working on the smallest detail. At over seven hundred feet, she’s one of the largest yachts in the world—a fact my father never fails to mention.

It’s a modern floating palace stretching across the water. The white hull and shiny chrome accents scream sophistication, more of which drips from every custom-made piece of furniture and chandelier. Our family isn’t big, but houses twenty-two individual suites, each complete with walk-in closets, spacious bedroom slash living areas and bathrooms.

Plenty of places to hide tiny cameras. The thought makes me shudder as we step onto the main deck. I shudder again when we come face to face with my parents. They’re a fair distance away, given that the main deck stretches over sixty yards. They’re inside, standing by the bar.

“I never asked how big this engagement celebration is going to be,” Colt muses. “How many people.”

“Mom said it’ll be a small gathering and that usually means about twenty or so.” I slow my steps, buying me an extra moment before facing my mother, Victoria Weston, in all her intimidating, elegant, snobbish glory.

“I’d advise you not to leave me unattended. I might get lost on this boat.”

I let out a soft chuckle, dispelling a little stiffness from my shoulders. “Don’t call this a in front of my dad.”

Our banter is cut short as we step inside, drawing my parents’ attention. They turn in sync at the sound of our steps in the open space.

The look crossing my mother’s face is nothing short of priceless. With her perfectly coiffed hair and aristocratic vibe, she comes across as part of the monarchy, at the very least.

Her initial deep shock fades as she adjusts her expression so as not to appear impolite in front of my guest. Too bad she can’t hide the skepticism in her eyes.

“Audrey, darling,” she coos, laying it on thick as she extends both arms, pulling me into a tight embrace topped off with a bunch of air kisses. “I’m so glad you made it.”

Like I’d miss my brother’s engagement… thingy. What the hell is this called? Not a party. Parties don’t last a week. Colt said celebration, but that still feels like a stretch.

Mom’s eyes assess Colt. “I didn’t realize you were bringing someone.”

“I told you I wouldn’t be alone. This is my-my—”

“Boyfriend,” Colt interjects. “Colt Hayes.” He stamps an obligatory kiss on my mother’s hand. “It’s a pleasure.”

“My, my.” She beams, face lighting up with interest. “Aren’t you a surprise?”

“I told you I met someone,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Of course, dear, I remember. I just didn’t expect him to be… you know, .” The airy, artificial laugh that follows does nothing to soften the stinging comment. “You have to excuse me, Colt. Audrey has a tendency to indulge her imagination.”

Before I stomp my foot, grab Colt, and flee this nightmare-in-the-making, Dad steps in, a pair of whiskey glasses clinking in his hand. He passes one to Colt, then firmly shakes his hand.

“Henry Weston,” he introduces himself.

Unlike Mom’s practiced politeness, Dad’s cheerfulness is genuine. It’s evident in the crinkling around his eyes and the way he looks Colt up and down without a trace of a frown.

That’s good. I was a little afraid Colt’s many tattoos could prove problematic, but it looks like my dad’s fascinated by them.

“Colt Hayes,” he replies. “This is a magnificent yacht you have.”

“Ha!” Dad grabs Colt’s shoulder, with a small shake. “Good choice of an opener. I already like you, Colt. I’ll give you a tour in a minute. Quite a few things onboard will blow your socks off.” He turns to me, his broad grin growing wider. “Is this how you greet your old man? Come here!” He pulls me into a bear hug, whispering so only I can hear, “Did you see the look on her face?!”

He doesn’t have to whisper. Mom’s made herself scarce in her usual manner, sauntering back to the bar where she left her drink, no doubt a boulevardier—she’s all about bourbon.

Dad pulls away, leaving one arm firmly around my shoulders. “Everyone’s getting ready for dinner at seven-thirty. Suite seventeen is yours, as always. I’m borrowing your boyfriend for a while, but I’ll escort him back soon.”

We didn’t plan for this. I look at Colt, gauging his reaction, but his face is impassive as always.

I left my mind-reading kit at home, so… “Dad, we just got here.”

“I’m only talking twenty minutes, princess. Thirty max.”

“But—”

“It’s okay, Addie.” Colt snakes an arm around my waist, gently breaking Dad’s hold.

His possessiveness, though subtle, makes my body sing. He leans in, his lips brushing my hair in a tender kiss. It’s such a simple gesture, but the promise it holds, the softness of his lips on my temple… it feels good.

Too good to be fake. My chest fills with warmth, the heady scent of his cologne soothing my anxiety.

“I won’t be gone long, baby,” he murmurs.

A surge of erotic pleasure pools in my lower belly. I love it when he calls me that. He makes it sound like I’m so precious to him.

I’m floating a few inches above the deck before the tranquil feeling vanishes.

Is he…? Oh, the nerve of him!

He’s making me look .

Here I am, saving his ass, and he’s having the time of his life at my expense.

“Fine.” I cross my arms over my chest, then realize I’m coming off like a pouting kid and let them fall to my sides. “I’ll go grab a shower.”

“But I’ve ordered you a glass of wine!” my mother wails from the bar. “I want to hear everything I’ve missed.”

“You’ll hear it over dinner,” Dad says, turning his back to Mom as he pins me with a pointed stare roughly translating to .

I do, leaving Colt behind. The award won’t be gracing my mantelpiece anytime soon.

Rounding the corner, I peek over my shoulder, finding my fake boyfriend engrossed in a conversation, almost certainly about , with my dad.