Fake Dating My Boyfriend's Rival For Christmas

8. Perfect Peaches

[Day 2, Dec 21 – The Ophelia Cruise Ship]

~Dave Carter,~

“Oh my God, you’re so hot.”

The words spilled out of her mouth, low but clear, and it stopped me dead in my tracks.

I turned toward her, a slow grin spreading across my face. Octavia? Shy, stammering Octavia, who could barely hold my gaze without blushing, was standing there her hazel eyes roaming over my bare chest, devouring me piece by piece—yeah, that look was anything but innocent.

"Yes. You did," I finally replied, a teasing smirk spreading across my face.

She gasped in shock, her face flushing scarlet from embarrassment. I chuckled softly, clearly amused by how innocent she seemed, even though she was clearly eyefu*king me.

She was standing by the glass door leading to the balcony, wearing a ridiculously tiny nightgown that did nothing to hide her curves. That fabric barely clung to her, and her long, toned legs were impossible to ignore. Her round ass looked like it was sculpted to drive a man insane.

Her hazel eyes were glued to my chest, trailing lower, as if she couldn’t help herself. The soft glow of the balcony light caught the red flush spreading across her cheeks and neck, and for a second, I was mesmerized.

I knew I looked good—I wasn’t blind. Years of boxing, gym routines, and taking care of myself had kept me in peak shape. But the way she reacted? That was new.

I couldn’t help but let the towel hanging off my shoulders drop a little lower. If she wanted a show, I’d give her one.

Her chest rose and fell, quick and uneven, and I stepped forward slowly, like a predator cornering its prey. The gap between us closed, and her breathing hitched when she realized how close I was.

“Am I that hot?” I growled, my voice low and rough as I leaned in, letting my wet body press against her.

She stiffened, her soft peaches hitting the cool glass of the balcony door, and her wide hazel eyes shot up to meet mine. She looked trapped, unsure whether to bolt or stay frozen in place.

I knew which one I wanted her to choose.

Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Instead, her gaze darted down again—right to where my boxers were already betraying me.

Shit.

I could feel myself hardening, the thin fabric of my boxers doing nothing to hide it. And when I pressed just a little closer, letting her feel it, a soft, involuntary moan slipped from her lips.

Oh, f**k.

The sound sent a sharp jolt straight to my groin, and I bit back a groan. This woman had no clue what she was doing to me. Or maybe she did.

Either way, I was losing control.

“Octavia,” I muttered, her name coming out like a lullaby. She felt too good, her warmth seeping into me, making it impossible to think straight.

Oh, f**k you, Octavia, you will eventually be the end of me.

I’ve always been ruthless when it comes to women, but the last three years—since I founded Vanguard—work has consumed me entirely. My once insatiable drive for chasing after sexy, curvy women like her had been buried beneath an all-consuming hunger for success. Or so I thought. That is, until last night when I walked into the cabin and saw her lying there, her perfect ass practically daring me to touch.

For the first time in years, something primal stirred inside me, even Ava didn't have such effect on me.

I had to sleep on the couch in the balcony or else I couldn’t guarantee not going wild with her before the day broke, which I wouldn’t like since it’s not part of our agreement.

“It’s getting uncomfortable…” her tiny, shy voice brought me back to reality, and I realized I’d been pressing my c**k too much against her.

I smirked at her, letting the corner of my lips tug upward. “What’s getting uncomfortable?” I teased, knowing damn well what she meant but wanting to hear her admit it.

Her gaze flicked away, but I caught her chin, forcing her to look at me. Her skin was soft under my fingers, her eyes wide and vulnerable as they locked onto mine.

“Tell me,” I pushed, my thumb brushing over her bottom lip. “What’s uncomfortable?”

“I… I don’t…” she stammered, her voice faltering as her lashes fluttered nervously. She was squirming now, her body pressing back into the glass, trying to escape the heat between us.

Her lips. Jesus, her lips.

I couldn’t stop myself. My thumb lingered there, tracing the soft curve of her mouth, and all I could think about was kissing her again. I disliked kissing, but now I couldn’t get the memory of her taste out of my head.

“You don’t know?” I murmured, my voice raspier than I intended. “Are you really that innocent?”

Her cheeks turned crimson, but she didn’t resist. Her lips parted slightly, as if inviting me to take what I wanted, and I leaned in, ready to give in to the temptation—

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry!”

The shrill voice shattered the moment like a slap.

The words jolted me back to reality. I released Octavia immediately, turning to find a stewardess standing at the doorway, her red hair falling loose beneath the crisp pink-and-black uniform, sent her a deadly annoyed glare.

She stared at me, her wide-eyed gaze raking over my half-naked body, and it gave me the ick.

Unlike Octavia, this woman’s gawking didn’t stir anything but annoyance.

“f*****g hell,” I muttered under my breath, running a hand through my hair, brushing past her as I grabbed my bathrobe from the wardrobe.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” the stewardess stammered, her face flushed. “I shouldn’t have barged in without knocking—”

“Enough. What do you want?” I snapped, shrugging into the robe and reaching for the leftover vodka on the coffee table.

The stewardess—Jessica, according to her name tag—cleared her throat nervously. “I’m Jessica, your cabin stewardess. I’m here to assist you with anything you need during the cruise. I just wanted to ask what you’d like for breakfast.”

Her eyes darted to Octavia, who was still pressed against the glass, her cheeks flaming as she avoided my gaze.

I downed a sip of vodka and waved her off.

“Octavia, deal with it. Anything is fine by me.”

Jessica’s presence was grating, she just ruined the moment.

I grabbed my laptop from the couch where I’d left it last night and headed back to the balcony.

I trust that my editorial team has sent me a ton of work to review, but sometimes they select absolutely terrible books—and occasionally even plagiarized ones—which is why I have to double-check everything. I don’t trust them a bit.

My phone rang. Finn, my personal assistant.

“Yeah?” My voice was sharper than I intended.

His goofy, loud voice crackled through the speaker. “Boss, I just got your text. Didn’t know there would be a stop at Brooklyn Cruise Terminal. Thanks a lot, boss! Raven and I will be there in a jiffy!”

“Did you just say you just received the text I sent you over twelve hours ago? Are you seriously kidding me right now? If you miss the ship departure time, consider it the end of your career at Vanguard,” I snapped.

He started to say something, but I hung up before he could get a word in.

It had always been Finn’s dream to go on a cruise. As a good boss, I’d made it happen, though I’d turned him down before because Ava insisted she didn’t want any company other than mine. But now that she was gone? Hell with her and her rules.

Jessica soon returned with a tray of exotic seafood and wine. When she finished setting them down before me, Octavia joined me on the balcony, taking a seat across from me.

“Guess the rumors are true. You don’t stop working, even on a vacation.” she said with a smile.

I arched an eyebrow, momentarily glancing away from my laptop, my eyes landing on her perfect ass as she bent slightly to lift the cloches from the luxury plates.

Goddamn, this girl would be the death of me.

“I wouldn’t call it a rumor,” I replied, my tone dry as I returned my gaze to the laptop.

She chuckled, her laughter light and musical as she nibbled on a lobster claw. She was more relaxed now, her earlier shyness fading.

She continued—women never stop talking.

“Jessica showed me the calendar for the entire cruise. Today’s event is a couple-themed fashion show. Would you love to join me?”