Free The Tycoon's Red Hot Marriage Merger by Christine Glover

below deck. Aboveboard, the ceiling creaked and she heard a splash. He’d given her privacy while she changed. But privacy would get kicked to the curb the minute she joined him. Because this teeny, tiny, itsy, bitsy bikini left nothing to the imagination. Still, Cassandra loved the way the twin triangles of aquamarine fabric covering her breasts highlighted her complexion and brought out lighter shades of blue in her eyes.
    She turned and looked at her back end over her shoulder. Her bottom looked fuller and sexier in the bikini Marco had purchased for her in Las Vegas. She didn’t see an inch of the gangly geek that had been ignored by the yacht club’s prep boys. Nope. That girl had disappeared and had been replaced by a sensual, curvaceous woman. For once Cassandra liked how she looked in a bathing suit.
    By forcing Cassandra to give up her man suits and practical pumps, Marco had brought forth someone she barely recognized. But she wanted to know this side of herself better. The side she had tucked behind oversized, unnecessary glass frames and hidden behind a computer screen for years.
    Tossing her cover up—if one could call the see-through gauzy white fabric a cover up—over her shoulder, she grabbed her tube of sunblock. She’d have to apply more if she was going to survive the day without getting burned to a crisp.
    Glancing around the beautiful interior, she ran her fingers across the dovetailed maple drawers. The master suite was sumptuously outfitted with regal damasks and silks, and in rich tones of burgundy and gold.
    The very suite she’d share with Marco tonight.
    Cassandra blinked and stared at her reflection one more time. Then she removed her glasses and placed them on the nightstand next to the bed. Because a girl couldn’t go swimming with them on. And she no longer wanted to hide the woman behind the frames.
    Marco’s bronzed back greeted Cassandra’s vision when she stepped out onto the deck. He stood, facing the inlet’s opening yawn to the ocean’s expanse. His years away from the Regatta circuit hadn’t softened him. Instead he looked stronger, more chiseled—like he’d been carved out of granite—and definitely more dangerous. Water rivulets coursed down his broad shoulders and accented his corded muscles. She tracked the rivers rolling down lower into his American style trunks, which clung to his spectacular bottom. Then she gazed even lower, watching it cascade down his long, muscular legs onto the yacht’s deck.
    Every erogenous zone she possessed filled with anticipation. She could look at that view all day long. “Marco?” she asked, stepping toward him.
    He turned around and his emerald eyes widened. “Wow, you look amazing,” he said.
    Cassandra’s heart kicked into overdrive. Thumping, thumping, thumping so hard against her ribcage that she thought it would take flight. She’d never had a man give her that kind of smoldering once over. If he could make her dizzy with one compliment, then she’d probably expire from having sex with him.
    She breathed in, held the air in her lungs, then released it molecule by molecule. “How’s the water?” she asked when her pulse slowed to a trot.
    “Invigorating,” he said, shaking his golden hair. Droplets of water flew in the air and arced around him. The longer length, along with his thin white scar slashing across his cheek, gave him the look of a renegade.
    A very sexy and thrilling rebel.
    She moved toward him, mesmerized. Michelangelo couldn’t have sculpted a more beautiful statue. But Marco was all the better because he was made of flesh and blood, sinew and bone.
    And, given by his current state of obvious arousal, soon he would be all hers.
    “I guess I should go in then,” she said, dropping her cover-up.
    He moved closer, framing her body with his, and tilted her chin upward. “You don’t have to rush.”
    “I know.” She had a strange sensation of being under his watch—his protection—and a safe feeling