xi. navem et attraction

[ the boat and the attraction ]

His nose itched.

Blearily, Victor opened his eyes and the first thing he was met with was hair.

Blonde hair to be precise.

He furrowed his brows and craned his neck, scoffing in disbelief at the sight of Jenessa in his side of the bed.

Her head was buried next to his shoulder, body pressed closely into his, while a hand rested lightly on his abdomen.

Narrowing his gaze, he was about to make a comment because he vividly remembered her warnings to keep off her side of the bed. However, he stopped when his attention was caught by the shadow on her chest that was her cleavage.

Victor closed his mouth and stared, eyes tracing the curve of her breasts. From what he could see, his wife was blessed and from his rough estimation, they would fill his palms nicely-not too small and neither too big.

All he had to do was tug down the thin flimsy straps of her nightgown and they would be bared to him.

Sodding hell.

He grimaced, pinching the bridge of his nose and swearing inwardly. This couldn't be the first thing he was thinking about in the morning.

Why not? His mind questioned slyly. She was his wife, and well, didn't that mean whatever she owned, belonged to him as well? And didn't that include her body and her breasts?

Swearing violently under his breath, he grimaced, glaring down at his wife before he ground his jaw.

Clearly, his dick was doing all the thinking for him.

Desperately, he willed his morning erection away, knowing that he'll never hear the end of it if Jenessa saw or worse, felt it.

And as though fate has it out for him, which he's pretty sure is true, Jenessa sighed and pressed closer to him, a hand curling into the soft cotton of his shirt.

Victor blinked and a snort escaped him.

Who exactly had been so vehement about him not crossing into her half of her bed? And here she was, doing what she warned him not to do, but to him.

Hypocrite.

His mouth twitched and without thinking, he reached out and pushed her curls behind her shoulder, watching as her hair fanned out across the pillow like shiny gold ribbons.

Much to his dismay, but to the joy of his dick, his wife shuffled closer to him, her knee pressing against him as she buried her face further into his shoulder.

He froze, mind racing to think of a way out and to get away before Jenessa woke up. Or worse, losing the tight reign over his control. He wasn't going to think about her. Nor was he going to focus on the incessant throbbing of his raging hard-on.

A soft sigh escaped her throat and it sent all the blood in his body rushing south.

Fuck it.

He scowled at her and gingerly got out of the bed, taking care not to wake her before hurriedly grabbing the small bag he'd prepared yesterday and stalked out of the room.

He was truly and sorely buggered.

* * * * *

Well, Jenessa sighed in content as she towelled her hair and studied her face in the mirror.

Surprisingly, she'd slept well. Excluding the mini tiff she had with Victor, it'd been one of the best nights of sleep in her life. Which, in itself, was odd.

She'd woken up, confused by the unfamiliar ceiling, the powdery scent of the sheets and then, it all came back to her.

She was in Italy-the country of her dreams.

Jenessa smoothed down the pale blue sundress and tilted her head, studying the well-rested look on her face.

This surprise of Victor's had blown her away. She hadn't expected it and it amazed her that he'd remembered just from one conversation they had months ago.

Everyone said that men didn't really listen...maybe Victor was an exception, she mused while brushing her teeth.

And speaking of her husband, she'd woken up on his side of the bed. Fortunately, she was all alone because if she wasn't, Jenessa could definitely imagine the remarks he would give and well, she couldn't have that.

Nonetheless, what he didn't know wouldn't do any harm, she'd decided cheerfully.

Anyway, she had a peaceful relaxing shower and she really was looking forward to touring around now that she was finally here.

She was in the midst of brushing her hair when the sight of her husband walking into view from the mirror gave her pause.

Since when had he entered and honestly, how was he moving so quietly? She hadn't even heard the main door open.

Victor halted, narrowing his eyes and she met his gaze evenly, offering a smile.

"Good morning," she greeted, setting her toothbrush into the cup provided on the counter before grimacing slightly. "Your hair is wet," she pointed out.

He shrugged, entering the bathroom and once again, her eyes fell to his arms.

God, he was fit, she thought wistfully, eyeing the way the sleeves of his white shirt clung to his biceps.

"Went for a swim," he muttered in reply as he stood on her left to groom himself.

Discreetly, she watched as he took out a razor from their shared toiletry bag and began shaving the stubble that had appeared overnight.

Jenessa had to admit that her husband had always been an attractive man, but he was a tad more dashing and worldly looking when he didn't shave.

The concentration that marred his face was quite endearing, she thought, her gaze fixated on the quick careful movements of his wrist.

For a brief moment, she wanted to press her mouth against his cheek. She wanted-needed to know if it was as smooth as it looked.

"What?"

It was too late to realise that she'd been blatantly staring at him-ogling him like a starstruck fangirl.

Quickly, she feigned nonchalance and reached for the second toiletry bag. "Oh, uhm nothing. It's just-you're not wearing your usual suits," she said lamely.

Pulling out a tube of mascara, she quickly swiped them on her lashes. But from the corner of her eyes and coupled with the weight of his stare, she knew he was staring.

It was highly likely that he didn't buy her excuse.

"I mean ever since I've met you, you've worn nothing but your suits," she continued and she knew she was close to rambling and it took little effort to shut her mouth.

Victor arched a brow. "I wasn't wearing one yesterday. So I have to ask if your eyes were functioning and is your memory intact?"

Jenessa bristled and grabbed her favourite lipstick. "You're grumpy," she mumbled, shooting him a pointed look through the mirror.

He snorted and turned back to his task of bringing the razor smoothly over his jaw.

"I'm not a morning person," Victor responded, setting down the razor and rinsing it under the tap. "And," he added, "The reason why I always seem to be in formal attire back home is because I have work and meetings to attend."

Okay, that did make sense, she admitted grudgingly. It was better than Isabelle's theory of him being stuffy and old-fashioned. But how could anyone call her husband, old fashioned after he actually wore a leather jacket was beyond her.

"I do sincerely hope you didn't think I just sat in my study the whole day and twiddled my thumbs."

She scoffed, shooting him a dirty look before reaching out to pinch him in the arm. "Don't be a prick."

Something like a laugh left his mouth as he evaded her hand and a slow smile spread across his face.

"Fair enough," he conceded, ice blue eyes warm.

She grinned and turned back to the mirror and applied the coral shade on her lips.

It wasn't till she was pursing her lips and capping the tube that she realised Victor had been watching her all along.

"What is it?" she asked, feeling incredibly self-conscious due to the way he was looking at her.

Albeit his blank countenance, she could see that his eyes were burning with something. What it was, she didn't know, but it made her incredibly aware of how close they were.

He opened his mouth...and promptly shut it.

"What? What is it?" she pressed, eyes scanning his features.

With his gaze so intense, she wouldn't be surprised if they were actually burning a literal path over her face. It made her want to fidget, but she knew better than to do so.

But Jenessa couldn't deny the way he looked at her made her mouth go dry. It heated her blood, made her heart pound with something she dimly recognised as want-desire. In turn, she pressed her thighs together and squirmed slightly, feeling a little too bare in the sundress she had on.

Was it awful of her to say that she wanted him to kiss her again? To feel the soft pressure of his mouth against hers, to replace the brief peck at their wedding with something more memorable, more intense and definitely with more passion?

But alas, with the rotten luck that she had, it didn't happen. Instead, that look in his eyes faded.

"Nothing," he finally said, giving her one quick glance. "Except that you snored last night."

She gaped at him, mouth falling open, all thought of her husband kissing her was replaced with indignation. "I beg your pardon, I do not snore!"

"You did."

"I do not!" she insisted, following him out of the bathroom.

"You do and you did," he said as he grabbed the jacket he wore yesterday and shrugged it on. "It was so loud that I barely slept," he added, turning to face her, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

She huffed, grabbing her purse and a hat from her luggage. "That's a lie! And if I snored, you drooled!"

"Now that's blasphemy," Victor returned, slipping on his sunglasses and opened the door.

"Well, it happened," she insisted, leaving the room and entering the corridor of the hotel.

"Liar," he murmured into her ear as he guided her out into the streets.

It wasn't till later at their cafe table that Jenessa realised that their silly argument (if it could even be called an argument) felt so natural and lighthearted that it almost felt...domesticated.

She blinked, squinting at her husband who was wholly focused on the menu in front of him.

She couldn't decide what to make out of that. Shoving the thought away, she forced a serene smile on her face and continued studying the menu.

Maybe later she'd ponder on it.

* * * * *

"No."

"Please?"

"No, I refuse."

"Victor, please. It's just one ride."

He narrowed his eyes, maintaining the unflinching look on his face.

If it was anything else, he would indulge Jenessa but not this. On this subject, he was not going to give in and nor was he going to compromise.

"It's a must if we're in Italy," she coaxed, big brown eyes pleading. "And you know that I'm finally here and it'll be a huge travesty if we didn't go."

"No," he said firmly, glaring at her through his sunglasses.

"Victor!" she frowned, crossing her arms, her pert nose wrinkling in distaste. "Why not?"

He remained silent. He didn't have to explain himself if he didn't want to. Plus, Jenessa was his wife and she couldn't force him to do anything he didn't want.

It was bad enough they were in Venice.

Yes, the place had its charms, but he should've known that the woman would've wanted to go on the goddamn gondola.

He refused to. End of story.

"Well, but why? Surely, there must be a reason and I certainly doubt you've gone on one before," she cajoled and pursed her lips.

His stare darted down to her mouth and he was bloody glad that he was wearing his shades. That splash of red on her lips wasn't helping.

He scoffed and ran a hand through his hair. "What makes you think that?"

She arched a brow and he exhaled heavily. "Fine, I didn't. But that doesn't I mean I have any intention to get on that stringy flimsy piece of wood they call a boat."

"But-"

He ground his teeth. "Look, if you want to get on it so damn much, go ahead. No one is stopping you. But I will not be joining you."

Jenessa sighed, her shoulders slumping a little. The movement was so minimal that if he wasn't observing her, he would've missed it.

"Alright, you old grouch, I'll catch you in an hour's time," she said and turned away, making her way to the mini port where all of the gondolas and their respective gondoliers were.

He should be relieved that he got his way. But why the sodding hell did it feel like a hollow victory?

Victor clenched his jaw and muttered a string of curses under his breath that would have made his brother proud before stalking after his wife.

"Fine," he snapped, once he caught up with her. "I'll get on the fucking boat."

"Really?" she blinked up hopefully at him, her blonde curls bouncing down her back from the sharp movement of her looking up at him.

"Yes, now hurry," he grumbled and Jenessa beamed so widely and eagerly tugged him over to the queue.

It really can't be that bad, he told himself as he eyed the mostly still waters. He'd managed the twenty minute boat ride to Venice itself, he could handle an hour on the extremely calm canals.

Honestly, it really couldn't be that bad.

* * * * *

It was as bad as he thought.

"Will you," he gritted through clenched teeth, "stop moving about so much. You're like a child on Christmas morning instead of a woman of twenty-seven."

Jenessa scowled at him. "Don't be a git, it's not attractive."

Victor scoffed but remained quiet, trying his best not to focus on the ripples in the water or how they were literally in a boat.

If he imagined himself on dry land, he could force back the way his gut was churning and how close he might be to hurling his guts out.

Seasick.

No one would ever associate that with Victor Ashford, but here he was, holding onto the side of the gondola with all of his strength while trying his best to focus on the sky.

Unfortunately, he hadn't accounted the fact that he'd ran out of those motion sickness pills he'd taken like drugs while on the boat to Venice.

Inhaling shakily, he squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced as Jenessa snapped endless photos of her surroundings while conversing animatedly with the gondolier.

The gondola lurched for the barest of moments and he dug his fingers on the side of the boat as though he was hanging on for his life.

Which, he was.

"Oh, would you mind stopping for just one moment to help take a photo for us?"

What? He forced an eye open. To his horror, the boat halted and he was just in time to see the gondolier moving closer to them.

The boat rocked as Jenessa settled on his right and shifted a tad closer to him. "Victor, smile," she murmured while grinning broadly.

With a shaky inhale, he moved closer, ignoring the roiling in his stomach as he forced a slight smile on his face before wrapping an arm around her waist.

There.

If his wife was surprised by the action he'd done, she didn't show it.

"Oh, this looks great," she said, smiling at the photo in her phone. "Thank you very much, kind sir," she cheered.

The gondolier gave a nod of acknowledgement, making his way back to his post, resulting in the boat rocking unsteadily.

Sod it.

He had enough and so did his gut.

He really didn't think he could last an extra thirty minutes more. Any longer and he might actually get sick.

It was time for an intervention.

"Jenessa," he growled and forced himself to straighten from his seat. "I'm going to ask you three questions and it is in your best interest that you answer them quickly and truthfully. Is that clear?"

Victor didn't give her a chance to reply when he trudged on. "Are you fully satisfied with this trip on the gondola?"

His wife blinked owlishly. "Yes, I suppose-"

"Are you done taking photos?"

"Yes, it should be, we're halfway through and after awhile, the buildings look the same, so yes, I think-"

"Do you want to eat anything?" he interrupted.

Jenessa furrowed her brows. "Perhaps. A drink would be lovely but I didn't pack anything with us-"

Immediately, he turned away and removed his sunglasses to glower intimidatingly at the gondolier. "Take us back now and I'll give you extra euros if we're on dry land in ten minutes," he barked.

* * * * *

"I wish you've told me that you were seasick," Jenessa said reproachfully, biting her bottom lip.

"Now I feel really guilty."

He shot her a glower and glanced away. "It isn't public knowledge."

"Clearly, but now that I'm privy to that, I still feel awfully bad," she continued, furrowing her brows, abandoning the pasta in front of her.

On the other hand, he'd resisted ordering anything except bread and wine. He didn't think he could stomach anything else; his stomach was still too queasy.

Apparently, getting back on dry land had both its advantages and disadvantages.

Victor had managed to spare himself twenty-five minutes more on the cursed boat. However, the speediness in which the gondolier had delivered them made his stomach twist. He'd held on for dear life, his knuckles turning white from the sheer force he'd gripped the sides of the boat.

"Just drop it," he grunted, resting the side of his head with his fist. "I just want to forget that buggering boat."

"Alright, but I really am sorry."

"Woman!" he snapped, lifting his eyes up to see Jenessa gnawing on her lower lip. "Just-stop. Eat your pasta."

She sighed, pursing her mouth and nodded grudgingly, turning her attention back to her food. But for him, Victor can't seem to tear his eyes away from her.

Or more pointedly, her mouth.

Damn that red lipstick of hers.

The bold shade had complimented her pale delicate features, and had drawn his attention more than once. Not for the first time, he was reminded about the chaste peck he'd given her on their wedding day.

A part of him wondered what would happen if he was to lean over and kiss Jenessa right here and right now.

Would she respond? Or would she draw away and mumble some excuse to turn him away.

No. He stared at her through half-lidded eyes. Jenessa would undoubtedly respond. Most likely, she would return his kiss with short eager movements of her mouth against his before letting him lead.

He'd almost regretted the pathetic brushing of their lips on their wedding day.

Victor stopped and drew his brows into a frown. Was that really only two days ago? For some odd reason, it felt longer-like he'd been married to Jenessa for a greater period of time than that.

In fact, he darted his gaze to his left hand where the gold band rested snugly on his fourth finger, he was already accustomed to the weight of the ring.

It was...alarmingly odd.

"Well," Jenessa began, looking contrite and yet unbearably pleased. "It really was lovely of you to accompany me when you have this...strong aversion to boats. I did appreciate it because you didn't have to."

Hadn't he told her to drop the topic? But of course, Jenessa wouldn't listen to him. The last thing he wanted was anymore reminders about it.

Victor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose and grunted in response and with mild exasperation.

"Eat your food."

* * * * *

If that mess with the accountant was bad, the current work dispute going on was a fucking disaster. It was only two days and already, things were going into chaos.

Un-bloody-fucking-believable.

Clearly, everyone they'd hired was an idiot.

The moment they returned to their hotel, Victor had taken a quick shower and delved straight into the unopened emails.

He scowled at the reports and ran his hand through his hair, mind whirling to come up with a cutting response that would determine sheer compliance that resulted in a suitable solution.

But none came to mind.

Not when his attention is captivated by Jenessa reading in bed.

No, this wasn't the first time he'd seen her reading. But he snorted at the title, Macbeth.

Of all the things she could be reading, it had to be a book of tragedy and people going mad. Some would claim his wife was mental for bringing such a book to their honeymoon. A bad omen, the superstitious would claim.

But Victor wasn't superstitious. He was practical and he could only shake his head. It was very like Jenessa to bring and read such a book, he thought almost affectionately, eying the way she wrinkled her nose as she read.

Truthfully, he did feel a tad guilty for leaving her to read while he worked. But he told himself that didn't matter because they weren't a regular lovesick couple on their honeymoon. They had an arrangement and that was all.

Anyway, he did risk his churning gut for her today so the fucking gondolas more than made up for it.

Satisfied with his logic, Victor turned back to his work, but not before he did a double take when he caught sight of what she was wearing.

He inhaled sharply, eyes following the length from her dainty feet to her calves, and then up her shapely thighs. Jenessa was reclining back and it was then that he realised she was just wearing a large oversized shirt and shorts.

Something primal and dark within him rears its head and he swallowed hard. Victor's mouth went dry at the sight of a bare shoulder, exposed from the drooping neckline of her shirt.

And that is when it hit him.

He wanted her.

Victor Ashford wanted his wife with an intensity that made his chest tighten and ache.

He wanted her beneath him, above him, or actually anywhere, he mused, eyes dark as he ran his gaze over her hungrily.

He wanted to know the sounds she would make, how her hair would feel like in his hands as he threaded through them, how deep her fingers would dig into his shoulders.

Would her pale skin be flushed? Would those expressive soulful brown eyes of hers turn darker? Would her lips part, breathy moans and whimpers escaping her throat when he laved at her neck? Would she respond eagerly to his attention?

For an idle moment, Victor wondered whether her mouth would leave lipsticks stains on him, and maybe lower down south...

No. No.

Victor shook his head vigourously. He shouldn't want her.

There were a million reasons why, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember a single one.

He scowled furiously in her direction-not that Jenessa noticed, considering her attention was captured by that ruddy book.

He shouldn't want her, he thought determinedly, looking away and slamming his laptop shut with more force than necessary.

It was just the madness of the day's events, he convinced himself, refusing to look in Jenessa's direction as he stomped towards the bed.

It was the hot weather, being on three different boats, almost getting his guts hurled out on all three different trips and having to deal with an apologetic Jenessa.

Ironically, Jenessa feeling guilty was somehow worse than his bouts of seasickness. The woman wouldn't stop apologising and asking if he was alright and if he needed a break from walking and would he require any drinks or medicine and good lord, he was really pale.

To which, he'd responded with mutinous glares and grunts.

All he truly needed was a hell of a night's sleep and everything would be back to normal. They could go back to their easy friendship that comprised friendly chiding banter and snarky comments.

He ground his teeth, slipping into the bed and refused-he absolutely refused to think of the woman he was hungering for just a few inches away.

"Goodnight, Victor."

He tensed and agitatedly ran his hands through his hair.

"Goodnight," he replied tersely and turned away and forced himself to sleep.

And if Victor hoped that she would creep back to his side of the bed in the middle of the night, he denied it.

He thought he might die from the sheer torture if she did anyway.

* * * * *

A/N: I'm late! sorry!! ive been super busy, life has been out of control and to make it up, this is 4K and full of sexual tension and pining *evil cackle* i've also put up the english meanings of the chapter titles because some of you have requested for them! anyway, have fun with this and please, please let me know what are your thoughts! they really do give me motivation to write! Nonetheless, thanks for reading! 

P16/4/19