Penny for your thoughts?

And hopefully he tastes just as he looks - as sweet as sin…

You continue to drink to the sight of the man before you, biting your lower lip unconsciously.

Standing tall, around 6 ft, he is wearing a black three piece suit, accented with a metallic black tie and a red handkerchief within his breast pocket, the fabric fitting his subtly muscled form impeccably and providing a tantalizing juxtaposition to his messy man bun and the stubble framing his chiseled jaw.

Trying to stifle the sudden rush of irrational nervousness, you take a sip from the flute of champagne you snagged earlier and look to the sea instead of the man before you. You allow yourself to be distracted with soft-white glittering waves under the shine of the moonlight, as it continues to gently rock the yacht. You take a deep, fortifying inhale and then exhale slowly, allowing yourself to get lost within the velvet pulse of the waves as it blends with the soft jazz at your back.

“Penny for your thoughts?”